“The carrot ginger, please.”

Mr. Friendly & Cute shakes the bottle and pours the juice into a tall glass. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip and check my watch.

“Waiting for someone?” the bartender asks.

“Yeah.”

“Are they late?”

“No, I’m early.”

“Better safe than sorry. When does your plane leave?”

“In three hours.”

He raises an eyebrow. “International?”

I shake my head.

The bartender lets out a low whistle. “That’s a big buffer for a national flight,” he says, and then pours me some tortilla chips.

The poor guy hasn’t asked why I’m so early, and Mr. Cute here probably doesn’t care, but I don’t know why I start spilling out all the details of my personal life. “Truth is, I have to go on a business trip with my boss. We’re going to LA for the weekend and I was nervous about this whole away-with-the-boss thing. So I came to the airport super early. Just in case. One never knows when traffic will go crazy in this city.”

“Is your boss the fastidious type?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I’m probably more fastidious than him.”

The bartender chuckles. “So what is it?”

Totally against my will, my cheeks heat up, and I try to hide the blushing by taking another sip of juice.

“Ah.” The bartender smiles knowingly. “I see. You have a crush on your boss?”

No point in denying it. Mr. Cute knows.

“Can I at least ask your name before I tell you all my darkest secrets?”

“Mark Cooper, pleased to meet you.”

Mark offers me a hand and I shake it. “Blair Walker. Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, this boss…” Mark lets the phrase hang.

“Do you ask all your patrons about their private lives?”

“Occupational hazard, I guess.”

Again, his kind expression compels me to talk. “Yes, I sort of have a crush on my boss.”

“Mmm…”

“And we’re going to LA for the weekend,” I continue.

“For?”

“A charity gala.”

“Oh, black tie event?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I run the women’s section of an online magazine.” I hand him a business card. Never miss an opportunity to market. “You should check us out.”

Mark takes it. “Inceptor Magazine. Cool name.”

“Yeah, Richard picked it.”

“Richard the forbidden boss?”

“The one and only.”

“So tell me.” Mark leans his elbows on the counter. “What are the obstacles for this impossible love story? Is the boss-man already taken?”

We chat a little and I explain the situation, even including the sordid details of the first time I talked to Richard—at least the one time I remember.

“So you’re hoping something will happen this weekend?” Mark asks when I’m finished.