I liked that she didn't know who I was. It freed me in a way. In a few days, depending on how fast Marcella worked, I'd be evaluated by a bunch of high-income, well-bred women with dynasty-building on their minds. It was nice to be just a bike courier who was being kind to a damsel in distress. But I didn't want to lie to her.
"They work in the company's accounting office," I replied and folded my arms on the tabletop. "They're suits. Look, Ella, " I said and leaned closer. "I have a confession to make."
She leaned forward. "Yes? I'm all ears."
I cleared my throat, feeling bad that I'd led her on so long. "I'm actually not a bicycle courier."
"You aren't?" she said and frowned, her pretty brows knitting. "What do you do for a living? Why were you riding your bike?"
"I'm a pretty serious cyclist. I do races and marathons. I trained a few years ago for an Iron Man. I run MBC. My name's Joshua Macintyre."
Her mouth dropped open. "What?"
I nodded, feeling like a total cad for letting her believe I was a bicycle courier for so long. "My father started MBC and I took over as CEO when he died."
She sat in silence for a moment. "That means…"
"It means what?"
"I work for Sharon Rogers at Dominion Publishing."
"Oh," I said, finally putting two and two together. "You're Sharon's new intern…"
"The very one."
We both sat there, saying nothing for a moment. Her cheeks were flushed bright red.
"This is awkward," she said finally. "You’re my boss."
"Technically, yes," I said.
The cocktail waitress took our food order and we turned and looked at each other. I smiled, hoping we could get past the whole boss-employee thing quickly. She was a pretty thing, with a sweet face.
"So, tell me about Ella."
"Is it legal for us to be having a drink together? I mean, fraternizing?"
"Well, I'm the CEO of MBS, but I have no real role in Dominion. I just pop by now and then to get a quarterly update and say hi. I'm not hands-on at all. I had to make a choice about what I could manage once it was clear that my father would pass. I had to let Dominion go so I could focus on the Chronicle."
"You bought the Chronicle," she said and smiled, glancing away for a moment like she was embarrassed. "I read about that a while back. I thought it was your father who bought it."
"No, we share the same name. But enough about me," I said. " My life has been pretty much an open book. Tell me about yourself. What are your aspirations? What makes you tick?"
"What makes me tick? Hmm. I thought I had my life all planned out. I was going to get married, start a family and I was going to be the wife of a Senator, and maybe the future President of the United States of America."
"Really? Your ex was a senator?"
"No, but he had aspirations," she replied. "I was going to be the good wife."
"The good wife, huh?" I said, surprised. "But he didn't turn out to be the good husband-to-be."
"Nope," she said and paused when the waitress brought our drinks. Ella took a sip of her bottle of black cherry vodka cooler, then turned back to me. "He turned out to be exactly the bad husband-to-be. I should have known, but I was naïve and starry-eyed at the whole get married and have a perfect life dream."
"And so when the dream died, you decided to come here," I said and sipped my beer. "Live life in the Big Apple."
"Exactly," she said with a laugh. "I'm going to start over. I'm just a slush and submissions reader, but some day, I hope to move up. I may go to Columbia next year, but right now, I'm keeping all my options open." She smiled. "I grew up watching Sex and the City and maybe I'll have my own ‘single girl in Manhattan’ adventures."
"Maybe meet your own Mr. Big," I replied, smiling inside because Christie had loved that series and used to talk about it to me.