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I saw the moment of sheer panic in his eyes as soon as he realized I’d seen the feed. I read the deepening panic in his expression as he scrambled for an explanation he couldn’t find. And there was no hiding his relief when he settled on one he thought I’d buy.
I didn’t. It was a load of crap.
I tossed and turned all night, trying to sort out why he told it to me. I didn’t come up with an answer, at least not one that I liked. Best guess? He freaking watches me to make sure I’m not doing something I shouldn’t. God forbid, I take two minutes to myself on his precious clock.
I drop myself into my desk chair with a huff, my heart rebelling at the unkind thought. He may be cranky and growly, but the man isn’t unkind. In fact, he’s always been generous. He pays me far more than anyone else would to do the job I do. I always thought that was because he’s difficult. But maybe…
“Stop torturing yourself!” I cry, exasperated. No matter how many times I try to convince myself otherwise, facts are facts. And the fact is that I have a hopeless crush on a man who just isn’t interested. Even if he were, he’s my freaking boss.
“Torturing yourself?”
I jump, wheeling around with a little squeak to find him leaning against the door frame, watching me. My heart thuds against my breastbone, all the moisture evaporating from my mouth. Good grief. He looks edible. His hair is wild as if he’s been shoving his hands through it, and his sleeves are rolled up, showing off the corded muscles of his forearms… muscles covered in ink.
Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus…
I bite my tongue, fighting the urge to whimper as my core clenches hard.
His gaze runs down my body oh so slowly from head to toe, his eyes darkening as he takes in my outfit—a 50s-inspired fitted top and pencil skirt. On the way back up, his gaze lingers on my chest for a heartbeat before returning to my face. He stares at me for a long moment with that look in his eyes—the same one that sometimes makes me think he wants to bend me over his desk.
But then he blinks it away, his lips curving into a tiny grin. “What are you torturing yourself about, sweet girl?”
“Quitting,” I mumble.
Pure horror washes through his expression. “No,” he growls. “You can’t. I need you.”
My stomach turns a somersault as he pushes away from the door frame. I stand and stare wide-eyed as he stalks toward me like a predator hunting down his prey, a take-out bag clutched in his hands.
“I’ll pay you double your salary.”
“You can’t pay me double, Josh. Are you insane?” I gape at him. Wait. Am I insane? He’s offering to pay me double, and I’m telling him no.
“You can’t quit.”
“I’m not quitting,” I grumble, massaging my temples. “I’m just tired.” That’s an understatement. Did I even sleep last night? No. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his gorgeous face.
I narrow my eyes on him. “What’s in the bag?”
“A peace offering.” He holds the bag out toward me. “I brought you breakfast.”
I gape at him, caught off guard. “You brought me breakfast?”
“Yes.” He reaches my side and carefully nudges me back toward my desk. My body lights up like freaking fireworks as soon as I feel his hand on my shoulder. “Sit. Eat.”
“Why?” I bite my lip as soon as the suspicious question bursts from them.
He sighs heavily. “Because I upset you last night, and I feel like an ass about it. No.” He cringes, and that scar puckers. “I am an ass. You’ve been working two jobs just to take care of your family, and I spend all day barking orders at you like a dick. It isn’t acceptable, Lyric.”
“You didn’t know.”
“It’s not an excuse, sweet girl. Sit.” He nudges me again, his hand gentle on my shoulder. “Please.”
His lips brush the shell of my ear, and my knees lose the ability to function. I lose the ability to function. I drop heavily into my chair, my mind spinning.
Where is my hot, cranky boss, and what has this man done with him?
I’ve seen glimpses of this side of him before, like when he drove me home when it was raining so hard he was afraid I’d get in an accident. Or when I had a migraine, so he insisted I nap in his office, only for me to wake up to find him two seconds from dismantling the copy machine because it wouldn’t give him back his fax. But this side of him always throws me for a loop.
He’s so freaking sweet when he’s like this. It doesn’t seem natural on him. And yet, he tries so hard sometimes. I’ve never understood why. It’s one more mystery about him that makes him so damn compelling to me. How can he be such a grouch most of the time but so freaking sweet underneath it?
