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“Sorry, Miss Tayla." Parker puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around.
“Stop calling me that,” I say in irritation.
“But that’s who you introduced yourself as,” he chuckles.
“Has anybody ever told you how annoying you are?” I glare over my shoulder at him as he opens a door that even employees aren’t allowed through.
“Constantly,” he says cheerfully, urging me through the door.
“I can walk by myself.” I shrug off his hands, annoyed.
“Fine.” He doesn’t look fazed by my small outburst. “The boss is waiting for you.”
To his credit, he stops following me but continues to watch me from the middle of the hallway. Having no choice, I knock on Mr. Middleton’s door.
“Come in.”
His voice is curt, and for some reason, my stomach does a complete somersault.
When I open the door, I freeze.
He’s standing in the middle of his office, half-naked.
“I – I can come back,” I try to get the words out as my eyes are drawn to the ripples of his defined chest. If I thought he looked good in a suit, he looks mouthwatering without one.
“Are you done looking?” He drawls. “Hand me my shirt.”
I feel numb as I look around blankly for a shirt, only to see a freshly pressed one hanging from the coat rack. I stumble towards it, eyes toward the ground, and drop my bag in the process.
I’ve just grabbed the shirt when I hear him say in an intrigued voice, “What is this?”
“What?”
When I turn around, he’s holding the laminated file that holds the charcoal drawing I made of him just a few hours ago. Dammit, it must have spilled out of my bag.
My heart climbs into my throat as horror fills me. “No, wait! Don’t look at that!”
I dart towards him, one hand holding the shirt, the other aiming at the file, but he holds it over his head, just out of my reach, studying it.
“It’s a remarkable likeness,” he comments as I slam into him in an attempt to get the file back, my face hot with embarrassment.
“Please give it back!” I half-demand and half-beg, mortified. But he stands still, tilting his head back to inspect my sketch.
“There are situations when I believe that college is a waste of good money, but you’re quite talented. I just didn’t know you had a habit of drawing me. But you should know, I don’t particularly appreciate you putting my face out there. Anonymity works to my benefit in my business.”
Without thinking, I put one hand over his chest as I reach up on my toes to grab the picture. It’s just then that he looks down at me, and I realize our position. My face goes slack, and I find myself unable to move. My eyes are drawn to his full lips, which are inches from mine. His breath wafts over me with the scent of fine whiskey and, I think, mint.
He also looks taken aback, but his eyes narrow, and the air between us suddenly becomes charged with electricity. I find it hard to breathe, unable to move back, and suddenly, my own body is not mine to control.
“You’re treading in dangerous waters, Miss Taylor,” he warns in a thick voice, his free hand curling around my waist in a grip that has me gasping. The way he says my name has my core contracting in need.
His eyes move to my mouth, and I can hear a small voice in the back of my head screaming for me to move, but my body isn’t listening. A pair of sexy lips are moving lower toward mine, and my heart is racing desperately in both fear and anticipation.
“I don’t have a habit of fucking my employees,” he whispers seductively against my mouth, our lips not touching.
I instantly feel the dampness in my panties even as the crushing humiliation makes me immobile.
Did he just imply?
