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“Is there a reason yer on the floor in me office, lass?”
The man had a sensual, deep, rugged voice. Is that a thing? Anyway, God. My brain short-circuited with that accent! I knew from the initial interview that he was Scottish, but sweet heavens. That voice could make my senses go blank and my panties fall completely off.
Mayday.
Woman down.
Send help before he calls the cops. Or the psych ward!
“Um…” Oh yeah, Ella, sounding like a doofus, that makes it all the better.
You know, my inner voice was a big cantankerous turd.
I couldn’t say I was a fan of her right now.
“I’m sorry. I just…” That was the moment things went further south. The kindness I saw in his eyes as tears started rolling down my cheeks was too much.
“Here,” he said, squatting down before me. His handkerchief extended. I took the square of fabric and wiped at my face. It was a good thing I didn’t wear a full face of makeup because this thing would have been ruined. As it was, my tears and snot soaked it in no time. “Take a moment and tell me what happened to ya, lass.”
“Mr. Ferguson, your father—oh, dear, pardon me.”
“May, could you give us a few minutes, please?”
“Yes, of course.”
When she left out the door, he spoke again, his voice soft, kind. “Now, come on, tell me what happened.”
Why was he being nice? Was it a ruse? I’d heard that men like him—handsome, wealthy, and in charge of multi-million-dollar businesses—were jerks. Was he hiding that side of him or was I just overreacting?
Door number two was my safest bet.
Neurotic as I was, this was probably entertainment for someone like him.
With all of that in my head, I still opened the dam and let my words fall free. “I almost missed my bus transfer because the first bus was late. I was running and broke a heel. I was in such a rush to get inside and not be late that my jacket got caught in the elevator and ripped. I slipped on the wet floor and hurt my neck when I cartwheeled to stay upright.” I covered my face with my hands.
That dang vibrator was now buzzing against my cheek.
Kill me now.
I was going to strangle my mother. She thought it was a good idea to drop this ratchet thing in my bag. The note on the bag said, “Good luck today. Be the buzz of the office.”
I was, and the work day hadn’t even started yet.
Dead. I was so dead.
Guess I couldn’t blame her fully. I was the dope who had brought it out, but my neck was really hurting. It was all I had, and it just happened that it was helping. Now I was just more embarrassed than the law should allow.
I asked again, was it too late for someone to put me out of my misery?
“I’m a mess. I’m so sorry. I can just go.” I got up on my knees, ready to hop up and make a run for it, but his hand on my forearm drew my gaze to his.
“It’s just yer first day jitters, aye?”
He helped me up. His eyes took in all of me, which only added to my sudden mortification. I was standing in a multi-million-dollar building with a man dressed in a perfectly tailored, designer suit—and…I was in tatters.
Was this what Cinderella felt like when the crones tore her beautiful dress?
God help me.
