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We’re playing on opposite sides and are enemies, I remind myself. I had my fun with her and now is the time to outmaneuver her. I have some ideas about how to improve the money situation here and I make a call to a friend in the tech industry. We talk for a while and share some ideas and potential ways to increase revenue. After we set up a meeting, I hang up and stretch my arms above my head. It’s almost noon and I’ve been hiding in my office all day. I suppose I should probably get up and get moving. Go greet at least a couple of people out there then go down and grab a sandwich from the cafe. The last thing I want is for the employees to go back to Doug and tell them I never socialized or made an effort to get to know them.
My strengths lie in making money, though. Not chatting about someone’s kids and getting all chummy, pretending I care about some little league game. It’s too bad Gabriella couldn’t just handle all the social butterfly obligations and I could handle the business part of it. But, no, good ol’ Doug wants a well-rounded boss who actually gives a shit. I get it. I really do. It’s just exhausting when I have so many other things to do. This place isn’t my sole focus, but I guess it’s going to have to take up the majority of my attention for the next two months if I want to win.
Standing up, I button my suit jacket and grab my phone. Bracing myself to be assaulted by the honey scent that Gabriella leaves all over the office, I step out and find myself breathing in deeply. Her lusty scent fills me and I let out a soft sigh. Instead of saying hi to anyone, I find myself peering into her office, but she isn’t in there.
Curious, and against my better judgment, I start walking down the hallway, looking for her. I spot her deep in conversation with one of the tech analysts and I frown, crossing my arms. It’s clear by the way he’s looking up at her with googly eyes that he’s infatuated. Can’t say I blame him. Today, she’s wearing a slim-fitted charcoal gray suit, the jacket open, matched with a pink pin-striped blouse with a couple too many buttons undone. My scowl deepens when she throws her head back and laughs, her full breasts straining against the pink fabric.
Dammit. Turning, I discreetly adjust myself then stalk over. “Hey, Josh,” I interrupt, “what’s new on Wall Street?”
As if I don’t know. I’m always up to date on everything and I can pick stocks and decide how to invest money better than anybody. But, I had to interrupt this little party here. I don’t like the way he’s looking at Gabriella with little hearts in his eyes or the way she seems to be flirting back. Christ, he’s just a kid. Probably not even twenty-five. Bri needs someone older, a man who can take care of her needs.
Josh instantly turns all business now that I’m standing here and starts pitching some new tech stock. I’m only listening with half an ear, my gaze moving over Gabriella, wishing I could reach over and button a couple of those buttons up on her shirt. It gaps open slightly and my eyes zero in on a pale pink lacy bra strap. Christ.
“Sounds good,” I say, cutting Josh off, and focusing on Gabriella. “Can I talk to you?”
Before she can respond, I turn and head back down to my office. My pants are uncomfortably tight and I drop down in my chair, using the desk as a cover to hide my raging erection. I hate that I’m so damn attracted to her. Normally, I move on quite easily, even if a woman is beautiful. But, Gabriella is so much more than that. She has this alluring charm that draws me in and won’t let go. I’m beginning to want her on a level that borders desperation.
So fucking pathetic.
I don’t understand. One night with her should’ve satisfied me. But, instead, I find myself wanting more. Just another kiss, another touch, another night. Maybe the problem and the thing that bothers me so much is that she left. I didn’t get my closure, my way.
God, that sounds weak, even to my own ears.
When Gabriella appears in the doorway and leans that curvy hip of hers against the frame, crossing her arms, I inwardly groan. How one woman can be so ridiculously attractive to me is insane. What is happening? I’ve never been like this before. Almost like I’m obsessing.
It needs to end, I tell myself. And the best way to do that is to piss her off. She’s been going out of her way to be sickeningly sweet to me, probably because Doug’s employees are reporting back to him, and she wants to make sure he hears what a team player she is. Grinding my teeth, not willing to let her outsmart me, I narrow my eyes and let loose about what’s bothering me the most.
“You and Josh seem pretty chummy.” I don’t mean to sound like a jealous school boy, but that’s the way it comes out. So much for easing into this conversation.
She tilts her head, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk. “And what’s your point? I’m getting to know my new employees.”
I snort. “They aren’t yours yet. No need to get ahead of yourself.”
“What can I say? I’m a positive, forward-looking kind of gal.”
“Who’s slightly delusional,” I finish and shoot her a grin.
“Maybe.” She leans forward and lowers her voice. “After all, I did sleep with you. Clearly, my head needs to be examined.”
I stand up, stalking closer, drawn to her like a magnet to metal. Or, in this case, a better analogy might be a bee to a flower. “You’re a riot, honey,” I say dryly.
“Don’t call me honey.”
“Why not?” I ask, stopping directly in front of her.
“Because it’s derogatory to women in the workplace and I don’t appreciate it.”
“The reason I call you honey,” I murmur, my voice dropping as I lean forward, getting into her personal space and breathing deeply, “is because you smell like it. It’s not an insult. It’s a compliment.”
She hisses in a sharp breath at my nearness and I notice her chest begins to rise and fall faster.
“Can I make a suggestion?” I ask softly, my voice low near her ear, my breath rustling her hair.
“What?” she whispers.
“Button your shirt up. You were giving Josh quite a show.” I stand up straight and adjust my shirt sleeves beneath my jacket, back to being a professional rival.
In response, she sends me a piercing glare. “You are such an asshole.”
