Page 33 of Hot for the Boss

“To the public, yes. Not for me.”

When I knock twice on the glass, a ginger with a bushy beard wearing a black button-down shirt stitched with the museum’s logo lets us in, then locks the door behind us. “Welcome, Mr. Cook.”

“Thanks, Aiden.” I read his nametag. “Where do we start?”

“Everything you requested has been arranged. Come this way…”

I gesture Nia in front of me to be a gentleman…and because I can’t resist the view of her ass. Soon, we reach a door tucked into a back corner of the museum, and the guide ushers us upstairs, into a private room with lights dimmed. Candles flicker on a table set with crisp linens for two against the window overlooking the museum relics of machines from bygone eras.

Nia takes in the room. “This is amazing. Wow…”

After I pull out her chair, she slides in. As I do the same, a waiter brings us wine—I remember she likes reds—along with our salads.

Across from her, I can’t stop staring. How did I see her for three years without seeing how beautiful she was? “You’re surprised?”

“Shocked. You did all this just for our date?”

“I did it for you.”

“Without help?”

“Well, not exactly,” I admit wryly. “When I called here to ask about a private, after-hours tour, they connected me with the catering manager, who was full of suggestions. So we’ll have dinner, then the guide will show us around. I’m hoping you’ll see why this place fascinates me.”

Machines make sense. No emotions. No gray areas. No unpredictability. Just binary code. Just black and white. When I’m here, I forget my problems and lose myself in the technology that has transformed the world.

“I’d like that. Thanks for going to so much trouble to make this special.” She rims her wineglass with one finger, then looks my way. “It’s interesting, dating you suddenly.”

“I was thinking the same thing earlier.”

“There are things I know about you and lots I don’t. I think we should treat this like any first date. Talk and learn about each other. I’ll ask you some questions. You feel free to ask some, too. You know?”

Not really, but I’ll play along. “All right.”

Nia finishes her bite of lettuce. “So, how did you meet Becca?”

I wasn’t sure what I expected her to ask first, but that wasn’t it. “In high school. We found out we were both foster kids. I was in a good home by then, but her situation was terrible. We started talking because I was a little older and she wanted advice about how to handle her foster parents. I quickly realized she needed way more than someone to offer an ear every now and then. I was sixteen, so there wasn’t much I could do to intervene, but I stayed on her guardians’ radar. Things were always tenuous. She was afraid.”

“They were abusive?”

“He was. When stuff happened, the wife was suddenly blind, deaf, and mute. I did the best I could to look out for her, but Child Protective Services never seemed to have a spare caseworker to investigate Becca’s claims. We got married the day she turned eighteen. She went straight from being their ward to being my wife. From then on, I took care of her, and she took care of me.” I wolf down a bite of salad and regard Nia across the table. “What about your first boyfriend?”

“Serious one? Not my middle school crush, right?” At my nod, she swallows another bite. “I was a cheerleader, and Jayden played running back. His senior year, he put up more points than any other high school football player in the state. We dated for almost two years and broke up just before graduation because we were both going to college hundreds of miles apart. And because I found out the football wasn’t the only thing he was scoring with.”

“He cheated?” I dive into my salad, unable to imagine why anyone would so intentionally and flagrantly break his bond with Nia. Besides being beautiful, she’s interesting, genuine, and smart. To risk losing her for fleeting pleasure seems illogical.

“Apparently a lot. I think I knew on some level. I wasn’t in love with him or anything, so I probably didn’t care as much as I should have. Anyway, when I realized we were going in different directions and that being without him was actually a relief, I broke it off.”

“I’m glad. I don’t understand people unable to keep their commitments. You deserved better.”

“Thanks.” She cocks her head. “After him, I dated off and on in college—all kinds of guys—black, white, ambitious, lazy, snarky, sweet, smart, and some less bright…who had other attributes to make up for their lack of brains.” She laughs at herself. “But I started going out less frequently when I hired on at Stratus. I was too busy to put up with guys who were either self-absorbed, wanted to party, seem married to their careers, or only looking for a hookup. The dating pool out there is terrible.”

“Based on the women I met yesterday, I’m glad I’m here with you, rather than swimming in it.” Before I can say more, a waiter wheels out a cart with two domed dishes and a basket of steaming bread, then takes our salad plates away. “I didn’t expect you to find candidates for me while I was in LA. I certainly wasn’t expecting to interview anyone yesterday.”

“I figured that if you want to be married before you move, we couldn’t afford to waste time.”

It’s not an illogical conclusion. “You didn’t know I’d changed my mind.”

We pause as the waiter sets our dishes in front of us and lifts the lid to reveal filet mignon, asparagus, and a steaming baked potato. The heavenly smells waft as the waiter walks away. I’m surprised when Nia doesn’t dig in.