Simply Irresistible: A Totally Sweet Love Story Read online

  He left with the too thin girl hanging on his arm and as soon as the elevator doors slid closed behind them, I popped earbuds in my ear, choosing a nineties pop playlist on Amazon Music. Spice Girl’s “Wannabe” started playing, and I was immediately in my happy place. There was nothing the nineties couldn’t cure, in my opinion.

  I worked all morning, making notes on article submissions and reviewing ad copy; things Roger was supposed to do yet never did. He reviewed what I put on his desk and approved my changes, rarely ever making additional edits or giving me proper credit. I didn’t care though, not really. This job was just a stepping stone to a career as a journalist. I wanted to be the one writing the articles and making the submissions. I wanted to see my work with red ink splattered all over it…well, maybe not all over it.

  I only thought about elevator girl once. It had been two days since I’d seen her last and I wondered when I’d see her again. I decided I’d ask her to lunch the next time I saw her.

  Speaking of lunch…I paused my music app and pulled out my earbuds, deciding it was a good time to eat. I logged off my computer and stood, pocketing my cell phone. Since Roger was out of the office, I didn’t have to report my departure to anyone, so I took off across the floor towards the elevator, weaving through the dozen or so cubicles filled with writers and ad staff.

  Someday, I promised myself, you will be part of the pit.

  Once in the elevator, I punched the lobby button and the doors closed. I watched the numbers change on the small screen above the doors as the elevator descended, then paused at the floor below.

  Could it be? I hoped it was her…

  The doors opened, and a couple models walked on barely sparing me a glance. I took offense to it in the beginning…the whole being blown off thing. I’d always thought I was a good-looking guy, and when these women wouldn’t even look my way, it was a major blow to my ego. Then I realized that most of the models were so self-absorbed (or hungry) that they didn’t pay attention to anyone around them, not even male models, so it wasn’t just me. Ego restored.

  Just as the doors were about to meet in the middle, a slim hand slipped between them, causing them to reopen. I was met with those wide greenish-brown eyes, and I couldn’t help but smile. She smiled back. What was odd was that both models smiled and said hello to her when she stepped inside.

  Who was she?

  My mystery woman looked like a pin-up girl. She was wearing a black dress with a high neckline. It fit tightly around her chest and flared out from her waist, stopping just above her knees. She had a long, hot pink scarf tied around her trim waist. She sidled up beside me, giving me another shy smile, another peek at those beautiful eyes. I wanted to ask her to lunch right now, but I didn’t want to do it with an audience. What if she spooked? Or turned me down in front of people? So, I waited. I wanted nine whole floors, three of which we stopped at. As soon as we reached the lobby and the car unloaded, I reached for her arm.

  “Excuse me?” I said softly, and she turned to look at me, a question in her eyes. “I’m Tyler,” I said, feeling like an idiot, but knowing I had to at least tell her my name before I asked her out.

  “Melanie,” she said, and I smiled again. Her voice was soft and angelic. Well, maybe a little huskier than an angel, but still sexy.

  “It’s nice to officially meet you, Melanie.” Her cheeks pinked when she realized I’d noticed her before that moment. “I’m heading to lunch, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”

  She looked towards the door briefly, as if seeking out an escape route, and my heart sunk. Then she looked back to me, her cheeks redder than before, and she smiled a beautiful smile.

  “I’d like that.”

  I exhaled the breath I’d been holding and returned her smile. “Great. There’s a little Thai place up the road that’s pretty quick.”

  “Thai Two?” she asked.

  “You know it?” I asked, turning towards the door.

  She fell into step beside me. “Know it? I think I’ve probably single-handedly kept their delivery guy in business over the last couple years.”

  “Ah, I’ve never ordered delivery from them.” She looked at me, surprised. “I prefer to leave for lunch.” I almost said escape, but I held back since I wasn’t sure what her role was yet with Leading Lady. No matter how much of an asshole I thought he was, I wasn’t about to bad mouth my boss to one of his colleagues. I had a great reputation at You’re the Man and I wasn’t about to ruin that.

  She nodded, and we exited the building onto the crowded city street. The heat hit me as soon as I’d stepped outside, that and the smell of pretzels and hot dogs from the nearby street vendors. It made my stomach growl, and I was thankful we were headed to lunch.

  “What do you do at Leading Lady?” I asked, breaking the silence as we waited on the corner for the signal to walk.

  “I’m Brianna Heatherly’s executive assistant.” I stared at her, speechless for a moment. This girl was the equivalent to me at her magazine, executive assistant to the editor-in-chief. The reaction from the models made sense now. Melanie was a gatekeeper.

  “Wow, that’s pretty cool.”

  She shrugged off my comment as we crossed the street. “What do you do?” she asked.

  “I’m actually the executive assistant to the editor-in-chief of You’re the Man.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “You work for Roger Hoffstadt?”

  “I do,” I said, wanting to deny it.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, then she slapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes went wide, like she couldn’t believe she’d said the words aloud.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I take it Roger’s reputation is well known?”

  She made a face. “There’s a lot of talk around the water cooler about him.” I shook my head, surprised he still had a job given his notoriety. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again.

  “No need to apologize,” I told her, stepping ahead to pull open the restaurant door.

  “But if you like him…”

  I laughed at that. “I don’t like him, Spice. Not even a little bit.” She frowned, and I could tell she wanted to say more but we were interrupted by the hostess.

  We were escorted to a small table in the back, and I held out Melanie’s chair for her. Her long hair moved over her shoulder, and I caught scent of strawberries and peaches. It smelled delicious—she smelled delicious.

  4

  Melanie

  “Why do you work for Roger if you don’t like him?” I asked once we’d placed our orders.

  “You don’t waste any time, do you, Spice?” I looked down, embarrassed by my boldness. I felt his finger under my chin, lifting it. “I’m just messing with you,” he said, smiling. “I want to be a writer--a journalist--this job just got me in the door. Something to look good on my resume.”

  “So you’re like the male version of Andy Sachs.”

  “Andy who?”

  “Andy Sachs…The Devil Wears Prada?” How could he work in the industry and not know who she was?

  “I guess so,” he said, shrugging.

  I raised my eyebrow. “You’ve never seen it?”

  He shook his head. “No. I prefer nineties movies.”

  “Nineties movies?” Who actually liked nineties movies? “Were there any good nineties movies?” I asked with a laugh.

  “Were there any good nineties movies?” he scoffed. “Pulp Fiction, Jurassic Park, Forrest Gump, Clueless, Home Alone, Titanic, The Matrix…need I go on?”

  I shrugged. “Those are some good films, but the eighties totally beat the nineties for entertainment.”

  “Excuse me?” he shrieked. The waitress, who had been placing our plates on the table at that very moment, jumped back. “Sorry,” he told her. “Not you.”

  I thanked the server, then looked at Tyler. “The eighties had better movies.”

  “I beg to differ,” he interrupted. He looked…green…but I didn’t let that deter me.

/>   “Back to the Future, The Goonies, E.T., The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Ghostbusters, and, my favorite, Stand by Me. Those are only a handful of the best movies ever. Don’t even get me started on the music.”

  “And what’s wrong with nineties music? N*Sync and the Backstreet Boys started in the nineties. Chicks love that shit.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he apologized.

  “I don’t really like boy bands,” I told him, and he winced liked I’d slapped him.

  Was this really happening? Did someone put me up to this? Meredith? I started to look around for someone I knew. I was being punked. It was the only explanation. This was the weirdest date I’d ever been on, if I could even call it that. The super-hot guy from the elevator finally spoke to me, asked me to lunch and I didn’t stumble over my words, then he turned out to be a complete weirdo.

  Several awkward moments passed and neither of us said a word, or made eye contact. When I wasn’t scanning the restaurant for a camera crew, I studied my nails. He was staring down at the table. He looked sick…maybe a little constipated. Was he breathing?

  “Are you okay?” I asked him. He still looked green. More so than before.

  He shook his head. “I was just expecting this to go differently, I guess.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I put my napkin on the table, having lost my appetite. “You’re pretty passionate about the nineties.”

  “You’re pretty passionate about the eighties,” he said, leaning back in his seat.

  We stared at each other across the table, the ridiculousness of the situation settling between us. I wasn’t sure who laughed first, but pretty soon we were both in hysterics.

  “I’m pretty sure my love for nineties pop culture is on my sister’s top ten list for why my relationships fail,” Tyler confessed once we got ourselves under control.

  “That bad, huh?” I asked.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “I believe you’re the one who said ‘don’t even get me started on the music.’”

  “Touché.”

  He looked at his watch, causing me to do the same. I noted that my lunch hour was almost over.

  “Can we maybe try this again sometime?” His question surprised me. Our lunch had been a disaster, and yet he wanted to do it again? He must have read my expression because he smiled and shook his head, looking down at his half-eaten plate. “Look at that…we survived our first argument. Next time we get together, we’ll know not to talk about movies or music.”

  I laughed softly. Did I want to see him again? Yes, I did. Despite his terrible taste in music—boy bands? really?—he seemed like a nice guy. He was attractive and we had some things in common, like our jobs and our desire to do something more than what we were currently doing.

  “I’d like to see you again,” I told him, and I was glad I did because his eyes lit up a bright blue. He was so handsome.

  “Can I get your number? We could try to run into each other in the elevator again, but I’d kind of like to see you when we don’t have a time limit.” He held out his cell phone. I smiled and took the phone, tapping in my number. He laughed when he looked at what I’d entered. “Eighties Girl?”

  I shrugged. “Seemed appropriate. Wanted to make sure you remembered.”

  “I don’t think I’d ever forget,” he said. And something told me he was talking about more than just our little decade feud.

  ***

  “What’s happening, chica?”

  “Hey, Mer. Nothing much.” I turned my cell phone to speaker mode and set it beside me on my bed. I was sketching out some new designs and wanted to keep my hands free.

  “How’s work?”

  “The same.”

  “You’re sketching, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “I knew it. You always give me short answers when you’re sketching.”

  “I’m sorry, Mer. I just got this great idea for a new collection the other day, and I haven’t been able to stop.”

  “That’s great, Mel. Have you showed your stuff to Brianna yet?”

  “No,” I said, knowing she’d give me grief for it. Meredith had been bugging me to show Brianna my ideas for ages. She had the utmost confidence in my talent and was certain Brianna would hook me up with my own spread in the very next issue of Leading Lady. Meredith had no idea how it worked in the fashion industry. I’d been working in it for two years and I was still unsure.

  “Come on, Mel. What are you waiting for?”

  I couldn’t answer that because I really didn’t know what I was waiting for. I didn’t fully understand the system, but I knew I had to start somewhere. And Brianna was a great place to start. “I wear some of my designs to work, Mer. If Brianna was interested, she’d say something.” That wasn’t entirely true. Brianna would have to pay attention to what I was wearing enough to notice it. She may have said I looked cute the other day, but I wasn’t wearing one of my designs that day, so it was irrelevant.

  Meredith sighed. “What else is new?”

  “I sort of went on a date.”

  “What?!” she shrieked, and I grimaced at the phone. “Why was this not the first thing you said to me?”

  “It didn’t come up?”

  “I asked you ‘what’s happening?’ That’s a general question that encompasses all recent activities. I’m pretty sure a date would classify as something happening. Tell me everything!”

  I set down my pencil and rolled onto my back on my twin-sized bed—it was all that would fit in my tiny studio apartment. I was all about saving money so I’d have a cushion for when I finally launched my own fashion label. It would happen, one day. Some day. Somehow.

  “It was awkward,” I admitted.

  “Of course, it was,” she groaned. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” And I didn’t. Not really. He started it…

  “You went all crazy eighties on him, didn’t you?”

  “He went all crazy nineties on me first!”

  “What? That’s a thing?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Am I getting this right? You had a date with a guy who is hooked on the nineties the way you’re hooked on the eighties?”

  “I’m not hook-”

  “Answer the question, Melanie.”

  “Yes,” I said, not a hint of defiance in my voice. Not at all.

  “Aw, you found another decade geek. How cute! Maybe he’s your soulmate!”

  I rolled my eyes. “On that note. It’s late, I’m going to bed.”

  “It’s not late! It’s not even ten.”

  “Good night, Meredith.”

  “You’re not getting off that easily, Mel! I’ll see you soon! We need to go dress scouting!”

  “Yeah, okay. Bye, Mer!” I tapped the end button and rolled to my side, resting my head on my hands.

  Was Meredith right? Had I found my soul-geek?

  5

  Tyler

  I watched The Devil Wears Prada. My only takeaway from the movie was that I wished Roger was more like Meryl Streep’s character. At least she eventually acknowledged that her assistant was competent. I could only be so lucky, I supposed. I was blessed with good looks, so I obviously wasn’t going to have a great boss, too.

  It had been four days since my date with Melanie, and I wanted to see her again. I decided that telling her I watched the movie was the perfect opening and sent her a text when Roger left the office with his girl of the day.

  Tyler: I watched The Devil Wears Prada. I wish Miranda Priestly was my boss.

  Eighties Girl: LOL That’s very telling. I’m adding your name in my phone as “Andy Sachs.”

  Tyler: I’m changing your name from “Eighties Girl” to “Mean Girl.”

  Eighties Girl: Oh wow, isn’t that a 2000s pop culture reference?

  Tyler: Huh?

  Eighties Girl: Nevermind. How about I just call you Tyler and you call me Melanie.

  Tyler: I like that idea.

  I changed
her name in my phone. Melanie. What were the chances her name would be Melanie? My favorite Spice Girl was named Melanie.

  Melanie: I like it, too.

  Tyler: Are you free this week for our second date?

  Melanie: What did you have in mind?

  Tyler: Not dinner and a movie…

  Melanie: LOL Good call.

  A thought suddenly came to me, and I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t thought of it before. We didn’t have the obligatory sports conversation. All serious New Yorkers picked sides. It could make or break a relationship…none of that house divided crap.

  Tyler: Wait…I can’t believe I didn’t ask you this the other day…Yankees or Mets?

  Melanie: Wow. I also can’t believe we didn’t get this out of the way. Mets. You?

  Tyler: Mets. Giants or Jets?

  Melanie: Eh. Neither. I prefer hockey. And before you ask, the Rangers. The only New York hockey team.

  Tyler: Phew. This could have been over before it even started. I am a little disappointed you don’t like football, but I can live with that since you’ve got good taste in hockey.

  Melanie: Yes, we definitely dodged a bullet. The Rangers were ingrained in me at a young age.

  Tyler: Me too.

  Melanie: Your parents fans?

  Tyler: They were.

  Melanie: Were?

  Tyler: They passed away.

  Melanie: I’m so sorry, Tyler.

  Tyler: Thanks.

  Way to go, Ty. Mood killer.

  Tyler: About that date…

  Melanie: Yes?

  Tyler: When should I pick you up?

  Melanie: How about Thursday at 7:00?