A One Night Affair (Kissing the Boss Book 2) by Fionn Jameson

Author:Fionn Jameson [Jameson, Fionn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hanha Media
Published: 2017-06-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

I was still irritated about Nobuki leaving me to close the booth by myself and we didn’t talk much for the duration of the day. He vanished at lunch and I chewed on a rock-hard sandwich from the convention hall deli, which, consistency aside, was still delicious. The jaw workout was unnecessary, but, eh, when in Rome, right?

By four in the afternoon, I was exhausted from the mental effort of distancing myself from Nobuki. Meanwhile, he still looked refreshingly, well, fresh as he handed out samplers of our translated Japanese best sellers and chatted with other industry professionals with an ease that was awe-inspiring. He was in his element and I was starting to feel like he was wasted behind a desk in Tokyo.

I slumped into a chair, dead tired. The night before, I’d had a hard time falling asleep. When I finally did, I had nightmares of Haru cackling like a witch, calling me a slut, whore, a pervert, just about the worst things that even I wouldn’t have called her.

“Are you all right, Miss Hasegawa?”

“Fine, boss. But I’m surprised you’re still here,” I said. “No horror author to take you away early?”

I almost didn’t sound catty. Yay.

Nobuki didn’t react to my bitchy tone. “Heather? She said she had something else to do today. I think I’ll stay and help you close.”

“I am so grateful for your assistance, Mr. Miyano.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, checking his phone. “We are partners after all, aren’t we?”

He had loosened his tie, showing off the strong column of his neck, and undid the top button of his shirt. I kept glancing at that sun-kissed triangle of skin like I was a kid sneaking peeks at an adult magazine in the neighborhood bookstore.

“Is something the matter, Miss Hasegawa?” he asked after my sixth quick turn of the head to gawk at that exposed skin.

I flinched and turned back to arranging a stack of pamphlets. “Don’t be silly, Mr. Miyano. I just thought there was a stain on your shirt, but I was mistaken.”

“That’s good,” he said absentmindedly, swiping his phone screen with one thin finger. “I pride myself on my personal appearance. I would hate to disgust potential business contacts with an errant food stain on my collar.”

“Of course,” I growled. “How very thoughtful of you.”

I was facing the front of the booth, and I could see the people walking up and down the corridors. Our booth was at the middle of a T-stop, and my heart sank when I espied a brunette with wavy curls who looked terrifyingly familiar.

“Oh, look,” I trilled as Heather’s perfect, delicate features came into sharper focus. “It your lady friend, Mr. Miyano.”

He looked up from his phone and his lips spread in an easy smile that I was starting to despise. “I didn’t expect to see her until later.”

“I’m so sure,” I muttered as she arrived at our booth, all smiles and smelling like she’d rolled around in a bed of flowers.

She went on her tiptoes to

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