“I don’t know,” Jules blurted out. “I want to be with you, I know that much. You’re right. But I didn’t expect any of this.” Something Vivian had just said struck her. “Wait—did you say I’m a good writer? You’ve read my work?”

“You’ve only amassed a couple of bylines, so it didn’t take long. The Working Girl article seemed a bit on the nose.”

The sudden amusement in Vivian’s eyes made Jules’s cheeks heat. “It wasn’t about us! It’s about a boss and her employee, but I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sure.” Vivian’s bland tone disguised whether she believed her or not. “The Salon piece had a little more meat to it. I agreed with most of it, although you missed the mark in a couple of places.”

“I did? Where?”

Vivian gave her a challenging look. “Give this a chance and find out.”

That was one of the most tempting things Vivian had offered so far: the chance to pick her brain. It was a prodigious brain. “I have to think about it,” she forced herself to say.

For real. She had to consider whether she wanted to change jobs and have dinner with Vivian Carlisle instead of scheduling her appointments, whether she wanted more than this platonic…whatever she was being offered here.

For a second, the light in Vivian’s eyes dimmed. Had she expected an instant answer? Probably. Vivian didn’t like indecisiveness or dithering.

Too bad.

“Give me the day,” she said firmly. “There’s a lot to think through, and you’ve already had a chance to do that. I need one too.”

“Fair,” Vivian conceded, although she still didn’t look happy about it. “I don’t want you to make a decision you’ll regret.”

“I won’t.” Jules squared her shoulders and met Vivian’s gaze head-on. “I’ll think about it, and I assume you’ll cut me a little slack if I’m not laser focused on everything today.”

“Take the day off.”

There was a moment of utter silence during which Jules decided that, yes, someone at the party definitely had slipped her an acid tab.

Vivian, however, looked completely serious.

“Take the day off,” Jules repeated. “On the last day of Fashion Week.”

“I’ll survive somehow. Even assistants get food poisoning. That’s your cover story. Stay here and text whomever you text to make things happen.”

This was Vivian proving she could have Jules in her life as something other than an assistant. That was clear, but she was already cringing at the idea of Vivian trying to make it through the busiest day of the week without Jules at her side. It wouldn’t be that much more restful to stay in the townhouse texting and calling people all day.