Love Script

Circle 1 Publishing, LLC

P.O. Box 181389

Arlington, TX 76096-1389

www.circle1publishing.com

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, events or actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental. The publisher assumes no responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2007, 2011 by Tiffany Ashley First Printing: February 2007

Second Printing: February 2011, Deluxe Edition Cover design by Reese Dante.

Cover models: Jimmy Thomas and Tiffany Belle.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system without expressed permission from the author and the publisher in writing. For information, please contact Circle 1

Publishing, LLC, P.O. Box 181389, Arlington, TX 76096-1389.

ISBN-13: 9780983034018

ISBN-10: 098303401X

Manufactured in the United States of America.

WARNING: The following material contains adult situations and language and is meant for mature readers. We recommend storing this book in a place where it cannot be easily found by young readers. That being said, happy reading...

Love Script

— Deluxe Edition —

Tiffany Ashley

Trademarks Acknowledgment

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the fol owing wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Schlumberger Bud Ring: Tiffany & Co.

Princess Cruise Lines: Princess Cruise Lines, Ltd.

A special note...

to my family

to my friends

to my readers

...thank you.

“When are you coming back?” Mary-Knight whined.

Laney sighed heavily. She was seconds away from wringing her manager’s neck. “I’l be back on the twentieth. I put a reminder on your calendar last week.”

“The least you could have done was taken a four-day cruise. How am I supposed to get anything done while you’re on vacation?”

Laney didn’t have to tel the snooty bitch if she didn’t use her wel -earned vacation she would lose it.

Mary-Knight already knew this but she insisted on muttering about it. It was pointless for Laney to mention she’d only used two days of vacation last year. She would have used more if it weren’t for Mary-Knight cal ing her at al hours of the night, barking for her to complete projects, projects she would present to the “big wigs” as her own. It was only by sheer grace that she and Laney hadn’t had an al -out catfight by now. Lord knows it had been building up for years.

Mary-Knight Tyler had been Laney’s manager every since she’d transferred into the art department two years earlier. Their relationship had been toxic from day one. Mary-Knight had a bad habit of delegating her entire workload to her subordinates, namely Laney. This was unfortunate because, when pressed, Mary-Knight was very talented. But instead of actual y working, Mary-Knight fil ed her days sucking up to members of upper management, circulating office gossip and, of course, lusting after the company’s young (and very single) CEO, Mr.

Sinclair. Laney could think of a dozen more productive things Mary-Knight could be doing with her time.

“You do realize,” Mary-Knight continued, “you’l have to do some serious overtime when you get back, right?”

“I know.” Laney sighed under her breath. “You’ve mentioned that twice already.”

“I just want to make sure you understand how much we have to do.” Mary-Knight smoothed back a stray hair. “We have clients, after al . They expect us to complete their projects.”

Correction
, Laney thought,
I’ve completed all my
projects.
Mary-Knight was referring to her own workload, a stack of incomplete files that would no doubt find themselves into Laney’s inbox by the time she returned from vacation.

“Make a list,” Laney said in a flat monotone, “and we’l work on it when I get back.”

She wouldn’t dare tel Mary-Knight her cruise didn’t leave until next Saturday. Laney needed the next few days off to relax and completely forget about work. If things went according to plan, she would be engaged next week. There was no way she was going to let Mary-Knight ruin it by stressing her out about
her
workload.

There was a beep from Mary-Knight’s desk phone, and a smooth, rich voice flowed through.

“Mary-Knight.”

Laney watched Mary-Knight’s eyes widen as she leaped closer to the phone. “Yes, Mr.

Sinclair?” she said in a breathless voice.

“We’re having a quick meeting about the prospect of the Zelman account,” the voice informed. “Can you join us?”

“Yes, Mr. Sinclair,” she chirped happily. “I’l be happy to help in any way I can. I’m on my way.” Apparently satisfied with her response, the speaker emitted a loud beep, signaling the cal had just been terminated. There could be no mistaking the seductive note in Mary-Knight’s voice. When it came to Mr. Sinclair, Mary-Knight was ravenous.

This wasn’t necessarily a crime, considering every woman at Sinclair Corp nursed an infatuation for the CEO. Mr. Sinclair’s effect on his female employees often mystified Laney. Since being handed the position from his father, Nicolas Sinclair was little more than a ghost to everyone but his executive team. He was rarely in the office for an entire day.

During the few occasions when he did grace the building with his presence, he locked himself away in his office, only emerging long enough to greet important clients and sit in on meetings. The end result was very few people ever saw him.

Mary-Knight continued the gaze at the phone a few minutes longer. Her eyes had gone slightly dreamy, and whether she was aware of it or not, she licked her lower lip nervously. For a minute, Laney thought she looked years younger, which was saying a lot; Mary-Knight was only thirty-five.

Laney fought back the urge to rol her eyes heavenward when Mary-Knight began prepping herself for her meeting with Mr. Sinclair. Watching her reapply her makeup and spray body splash along her neck and arms, Laney concluded Mary-Knight’s feelings for Mr. Sinclair surpassed any ordinary crush, they veered more toward obsession.

Seeming to have awakened from her love-struck stupor, Mary-Knight gave a smal cough and pul ed herself up tal er. Her eyes, now flashing with alert clarity, fixed Laney with a predatory smile. “I’l work on our list this evening,” she sang. “Are you working late today?”

After working with the woman for years, it stil amazed Laney how Mary-Knight managed to disguise her demands as harmless questions. It gave Laney great satisfaction to match Mary-Knight’s false smile with one of her own. “No, I’m leaving at noon, remember?”

Mary-Knight’s smile vanished. “But Laney, I need your help on the Moore project!” There was a definite note of desperation in her voice.

“Can it wait until I get back?” Laney asked.

Mary-Knight tossed a lock of auburn hair over her shoulder and fixed her assistant with a cold look.

“No, it can’t.”

❧ ❧ ❧

Laney didn’t get home until seven that night.

Damn Mary-Knight! Not only had she waited until an hour before she was scheduled to leave the office before surprising her with the Moore account; the idiot hadn’t worked on it at al . Once again, Mary-Knight was tossing her work at Laney. There was no justice.

Calm down, girl,
she soothed herself. Yes, Mary-Knight was a bitch, but if Laney could just hang in there for another year or so, her supervisor would eventual y be promoted and out of Laney’s hair.

Shaking her head, Laney forced herself to think of better things. No more Mary-Knight. No more Sinclair Corp. She was official y on vacation. The only thing she needed to concern herself with was what to pack.

Laney had just laid out several potential outfits when Danny sailed through her front door. She wasn’t concerned with his comfort in her home. Like clockwork, Danny had arrived on her doorstep at exactly eight p.m. every weekday for the last year. It had become quite pointless to lock her door around that time, so Laney had gotten into the habit of leaving her front door unlocked when she got home in the evenings, knowing Danny would lock it when he arrived.

“Hey, babe!” he cal ed out. “How was work today?” He floated into the room and kissed her on the cheek as he made his way to the kitchen.

She groaned loudly. “I’m trying to forget about that place, Danny.”

“Mary-Knight is a bitch,” he said automatical y.

“Always,” she agreed.

She knew he’d only said that to excuse himself from having to listen to her complain for an hour about how incompetent the woman was. Ordinarily, his ploy wouldn’t have deterred her, but today Laney decided to break from tradition. She was tired of wasting energy thinking about the office.

Daniel Rushmore was both Laney’s neighbor and close friend. The two had met soon after she’d moved into her smal but stylish flat over a year ago.

Danny ran his own interior design company.

Although she’d never tel him, for fear he might become even more vain than usual, Laney thought he was a darn good designer. Apparently, she wasn’t the only person who thought so. He worked for prestigious San Francisco residents and had built a reputable name as the leading designer for high-rises and condominiums. Normal y very private people, strangely Danny and Laney hit it off early in their friendship. Lately, Danny’s presence had become a staple in her life. Since his breakup with Bruce, a club bouncer he fancied himself in love with after four weeks of dating, Danny had become a permanent fixture at her place. Laney didn’t mind, though. Danny was always entertaining.