Michael Taylor was sure- he was in love with Lydia Saunders, even if she was engaged to someone else. He had been for years and no one else came close. Not until that kiss happened.
Suddenly, Lyanna Saunders- the woman he vowed to hate forever- was...
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I thought that having talked to Lyanna about the kiss, things would get back to normal at the office. It didn't. If anything, it was worse. Now that we'd spoken, it was impossible to ignore the fact that it had actually happened and whenever we passed each other or happened to be in the staff kitchen at the same time, the air was awkward and one of us- usually me- would walk off after a very uncomfortable stare-off or prolonged silence. I should have listened to my mother when she said that if the kiss was meaningless, why raise it?
Thankfully, I had enough work to keep me occupied but I hated the new look office I'd been given. When I asked the interior stylists for something modern and practical, I wasn't expecting this end result. They took away my comfy office chair, for crying out loud. And there was this stupid decorative lamp or vase or some fertility statue or whatever it is now creating a tripping hazard in the middle of the room. Who puts something like that in a free-standing position two feet away from the nearest wall or desk? I've since moved it and use it as a doorstop but the rest of the office, I'm stuck with. It's not like I can go and ask Lucy and Russ to put it right less than a week after they did it in the first place.
Ignoring the finer details of my workspace, I crack on with the plans for a project John Saunders had handed me. I wasn't sure who the client was but I know that it's someone that Lyanna has previously dealt with because her handwriting is all over the previous design concepts. One thing I admire about Lyanna is that she's a heck of an innovator with original ideas and bucket loads of imagination. She can design a building in seconds, sketching it on a corner of a napkin and scribbling a list of materials around it. Her work is always evolving, too, as I could see while going through the client's file. The first concept was way out there, the client's idea most likely, although, as I flicked through the amended versions, I could see more of Lyanna's own aesthetic coming to the fore. I really don't know how John expects me to better her plans without taking the project in a completely new direction.
"Good morning," Andie Hamilton breezed into my office and dropped into the seat opposite my desk. She had a notebook in her hand and a pained expression on her face as she scanned the work before me. "Isn't that the Casek Development file?"
