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His poor, frail gran comes to my head. I turn up the smile wattage. “Nothing. Cookie?”
He catches my arm as I go to slide by him, and though his hold isn’t tight, it’s firm and his touch sends tendrils of heat through me, coiling and spinning in my blood. Those onyx eyes are intense on me and it’s suddenly difficult to breathe.
Because that mouth of his is rich with life, and made for kissing.
I jerk back at the thought, but he doesn’t let go.
“I made macadamia, cacao, and pumpkin seed spiced cookies. High protein, full of healthy things.”
“Sugar?” Suddenly his gaze softens. “No. I just want to know what’s up.”
“There’s the meeting tonight about the bully of a billionaire’s take over, that’s all, and—”
“I don’t think it’s that.” He softens a little more. “If it’s me, tell me what to do to improve to keep the job.”
“It’s not in danger.”
“If I’m not doing a good job, it should be.”
“You’re fine.” It’s really hard to breathe and his thumb is drawing slow circles on my inner arm and the sparks those touches set off are like low lying electricity. “It’s just…”
Everything.
“Some of the books have been priced incorrectly.”
“You don’t charge enough.”
I go still. “Did you misprice them on purpose?”
For a long moment he doesn’t answer, then he drops his hand to his side and shrugs, looking sheepish and the whole intense moment is gone. “God, sorry, Zoey. I didn’t mean… I just thought the prices were old ones. I thought I was helping.”
“Well… ask.”
At that moment, the bell dings and someone comes in and the day begins.
Magnus is still there when I rush downstairs to make the meeting. We had a glut, and by that, I mean seven people right at the end of the day, each fussier and more indecisive than the last.
Normally, I don’t mind, but I want to get to the meeting.
I stop and stare. He’s got a feather duster in his hand and there’s some jazz playing low.
Magnus turns and gives a soft whistle. “All dressed up.”
“I put on lipstick. And heels. Low heels.”
“So I see.” The dimple appears.
“I thought you’d gone.”
“Well, I felt bad about the books, so I decided to do some cosmetic work.”
I raise a brow. “Dusting?”
“Dusting.” He looks about, then scratches his chin with the duster handle. “Zoey, do you want some company tonight?”
“Like a date?” The moment the words hit the air I want the ground to eat me. “No, of course not a date. Why would you want to go on a date with me? I’m your boss, and…” I stop. “Let’s pretend I didn’t just say all that.”
He smiles slow and my knees turn weak. “If you like.”
