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“I mean, it’s not his fault that Marie is pregnant. She’s starting next week, you know.” Her eyes widen as she leansforward. “And I heard that she and Gabe are not exactly getting along that well.”

“What do you mean?”I ask.

“I don’t know, but supposedly, he had some sort of meeting with her to discuss the parameters of her job, and she got really upset. I heard—now don’t say anything to anyone.”

“Who am I going to say anything to?”

“Well, I heard,” she whispers, “that maybe they had a fling, and maybe Gabe is…”

“Gabe is not the father of her child. I know that for a fact.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because contrary to popular belief, Gabe is not a dog.”

“No one thinks he’s a dog.”

“Well, I know for a fact that Gabe has not slept with her because I made a comment to him once about a woman, and he said that he would never, ever date or sleep with anyone that was related to one of his friends or partners.”

“What do you mean?”

“Marie is Max’s sister, remember? “

“Yeah, and?”

“His little sister. There’s no way Gabe would have slept with her.”

“Well, fine. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’s not the father, but that doesn’t mean Marie doesn’t have a crush on him.”

“That’s something very different. I’m sure plenty of women have a crush on Gabe. He’s a handsome man, so I’ve been told.”

“Yeah, yeah, I mean, he’s all right.” There’s a dreamy look on her face.

“What do you mean, he’s all right?” My eyes narrow. “Do you think he’s handsome?”

“Well, yeah. He’s extremely handsome. He’s ridiculously good-looking, as some women would put it.”

“I see, so if he had asked you to be his assistant, would you?”

“Oh, my gosh, Liam, what is this?”

“I’m just wondering if he had been the one in need of an assistant, would you have volunteered for that job?”

“Liam, are you jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” I say quickly, though I can admit to myself that I am. “Fine. I’m just wondering how handsome you think he is.”

“I don’t think he’s more handsome than you, dear.” She grins at me. “He’s not the one whose bed I’m sharing every night.”

“That is true. So, are you staying over tonight?” I ask her.

“I don’t know. I need to go shopping and start packing for next week. My dad also wants me to get a wedding dress, and well…” She pauses. “Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it?”

“What? Don’t fiancées often talk to their husband-to-be about their wedding dress?”

“Yes, but not when they’re not meant to know that they’re engaged to their boss.” She throws her hands up in the air. “At this point, I wonder if we’re just as bad as my dad.”

“I don’t think we could ever be as bad as your dad.”