Page 12 of Keeping Denver

He takes the cup from me, his fingertips brushing mine and my lips part. I can't seem to take my eyes off his striking features—his hard lines and chiseled jaw. When he still doesn't respond, which is nothing new, I swallow the lump in my throat and brush past him. "I'll get back to work."

After dropping off some files to Frances, I head back down the hall and notice Lucas standing by my desk. "Are you waiting for me?"

Lucas grins. "Some of us are going out after work for drinks. There is a bar down at the end of the block we all go to once a week. Do you want to join us?"

My mood deflates when I realize I have to turn his invitation down. I'm just about to decline Lucas's offer when Mr. Hawk's office door opens. His eyes dart between Lucas and myself standing within inches of each other, and his eyes narrow. I'm thinking he's going to be an asshole to Lucas again, but instead, he diverts his attention to me. "Grab your things, Miss Hollis. We have a meeting, make it quick."

My brow scrunches with confusion. "You don't have another meeting scheduled for today."

"I do now," his curt reply rubs me the wrong way as he heads for the elevator. "Now, Miss Hollis."

"Okay." Walking around my desk, I quickly grab a notebook, pen, and the new tablet Frances gave me this morning for taking notes and dash past Lucas in a hurry to catch up with my boss before the elevator door closes. "I'll catch you later, Lucas," I toss over my shoulder. Mr. Hawk's scowl turns into a look of irritation by the time I step beside him. As irritating as he can be, Mr. Hawk has an effect on me. My heart races and my palms become sweaty. I peek at him through my lashes, letting my eyes roam over his body. Lifting my chin, I catch his eyes on me as well, and my face heats. What is wrong with me? He is your boss. Relief washes over me the moment the elevator doors slide open, and I feel like I can breathe again.

"Miss Hollis," he waits for me to exit, then follows close as we make our way through the first-floor lobby. When the two of us step outside onto the busy street, Mr. Hawk's driver is waiting for us beside a black car parked on the curb.

"Mr. Hawk, Miss Hollis," he dips his head. A cold breeze causes me to shiver, and Mr. Hawk takes notice.

"Where the hell is your coat?"

"I forgot it," I lie.

Mr. Hawk grits his teeth. "Get in."

Because I'm cold, I ignore his poor attitude, and slide into the back seat. Once Mr. Hawk climbs in, he addresses his driver. "Mitch, stop by the nearest department store. Miss. Hollis needs a coat."

"Yes, Sir."

"You don't have to buy me a coat. I'll be fine," I protest.

"It's not up for debate." At his last statement, he lifts his phone to his ear and turns his attention elsewhere, effectively dismissing me.

By the time we get to the restaurant, we're fifteen minutes late and I feel a tad guilty for being the cause. Nevertheless, the cream leather coat, with sherpa lining, is one of the warmest pieces of clothing I've had against my skin in a long time.

The hostess greets us the second we walk in, her eyes drinking in the sight of the man next to me. My lip curls at the way she eyes him, and an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy settles in my stomach. "Good to see you again, Mr. Hawk. Your party is already here. Follow me, and I'll take you to your table."

The hostess sashays, adding an exaggerated sway to her hips as she leads us to our table. The older man already seated at our table stands. His eyes light up as he offers his hand. "Mr. Hawk, thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

Mr. Hawk doesn't offer any pleasantries in return. He nods and gestures for me to take a seat. "My apologies for being late, Mr. Dennis," Mr. Hawk tells the man. "This is my assistant, Miss Hollis," he introduces me.

Mr. Dennis, who has yet to take his seat, lingers at my side and places his hand in front of me. "Miss Hollis. It's a pleasure."

Not wanting to be rude, I tip my head back and look at the man. The vibe he gives causes me to recoil. Especially with the way his eyes linger on my breasts instead of my face. "Nice to meet you, too," I say, accepting his hand, and he holds on a little too long for my liking. Luckily, Mr. Hawk interrupts.

"I'd like to get on with the meeting."

Slipping my hand from Mr. Dennis's grasp, I maneuver my seat a few inches closer to my boss. I don't miss Mr. Hawk's look of approval at my action. Mr. Dennis chooses to take his place next to me instead of the one across the table. I look at Mr. Hawk. The set line of his jaw indicates he is not pleased with Mr. Dennis's behavior.

A few seconds later, the waiter arrives, takes our drink orders, and I take the opportunity to excuse myself. "I'm going to the ladies' room. I'll be right back," I whisper. Moments later, when I return to the table, Mr. Dennis has abandoned the seat next to mine and is now seated across the table. Both men are wearing tight expressions.

Over the next hour, I listen to both men talk. Mr. Hawk grills Mr. Dennis about his wife, whom he is divorcing. Along with asking him a multitude of personal questions. From what I've gathered, the guy sounds like a complete tool. He's painting himself as a model husband while making his wife out to be a cheating gold digger. I don't know Mr. Dennis or his soon to be ex-wife, but something tells me that everything coming out of his mouth is a lie. I secretly hope my boss doesn't take his case.

"Excuse me." I look up from my computer hours later, to see a woman standing at my desk.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"I have an appointment with Mr. Hawk. My name is Louise Dennis," she offers her tone soft. I immediately recognize the woman's name. This is the wife of the man Mr. Hawk met with earlier.

"Yes, ma'am. If you'll come with me, I'll show you to his office." I knock on Mr. Hawk's door.