Page 5 of Miss Typed

No wonder Chloe had seemed relieved when I’d said I wouldn’t be putting any of my personal shit on her. The poor girl was probably looking forward to a boss who wouldn’t make her cover for him with the wife and girlfriend.

The waitress returned with the tumblers and took our orders for steaks before disappearing again.

I took a drink of my Scotch, enjoying the burn. “Tom is lucky she didn’t out him in front of his wife.”

“No kidding. And keep this conversation between us. Sometimes I forget that as the acting HR director I probably shouldn’t spill the beans.”

“Yeah, probably not.” Reid was counting the days until the regular HR person, Helen, returned from maternity leave, and he wouldn’t have to deal with personnel issues.

He took a sip of the Scotch and made a face. “This is awful, and all yours.” He scooted it across the table toward me. “In any event, I’m happy you agreed to hire her.”

“I appreciated her honesty. Plus, we both know Tom is, in fact, a pussy.” I was chuckling yet again at the thought of him receiving those words via instant messenger.

Reid barked out more laughter. “It was all I could do to keep from cracking up in front of her. And although I can’t condone her behavior, I also don’t blame her. I can’t fucking stand that prick.”

“Neither can I.” I’d only met him once, but it was enough. Tom was, for lack of a better word, a douche. Constantly flaunting his money and trying to exert power. It was ridiculous. Reid and I both came from influential, wealthy families, yet you didn’t see us trying to impress people with it. If anything, we were both determined to work hard to prove ourselves on our own merit.

“You know, this is the most I’ve heard you laugh in months.”

“Yeah, well.” What could I say? Laughter had been hard to come by over the last year of hell.

He fastened me with an uncharacteristically stern look. “Aiden, be nice to her. This may be her second chance, but it’s your third, buddy. I can’t keep finding you assistants if you continue making them cry.”

A heavy sigh left my lips. “I certainly don’t enjoy making women cry. They’re just too damn sensitive,” I grumbled, feeling guilty. That’s why I’d laid down the ground rule of no chitchat. My last assistant had prattled on about everything and anything and then would be hurt when I’d ignore her or ask her to stop. I didn’t want to know about anyone’s life, let alone have them ask me questions about mine. It might be a dick move to have said so, but it seemed easier to be up front with my expectations.

“I realize you don’t have any bad intentions, my friend. But fair warning: if Chloe doesn’t work out, there are no others waiting.”

I wasn’t convinced I needed an assistant at all, considering I didn’t have much for her to do. “She seems like a good kid, so hopefully there won’t be a problem.”

He chuckled. “Surely all those years in the desert sun didn’t blind you. She’s twenty-two and hardly a child.”

“Yeah, yeah.” No, I certainly wasn’t blind. Truth was I preferred to think of Chloe as a kid. It was better than thinking of her as a gorgeous woman with big brown eyes on a flawless, heart-shaped face. With a killer body accented by her dress, she played with her hair when nervous and had an adorable habit of biting her lip when trying to keep herself from saying the wrong thing.

But it had been her honesty and bluntness which had spoken to me. Professionally, of course, I reasoned. Here was hoping she wasn’t as sensitive to my lack of social graces as my last two assistants had been.

* * *

I spent the next morning as I did most. By staring out of my office window after a brutal workout and a shower. I liked to watch the sun rise over this foreign landscape of flashy, tall buildings. During my three tours in Iraq as a Marine Corps officer, I assumed the desert heat was all the same, but after moving here and experiencing the humidity from the nearby ocean, it was clear Dubai was different.

How ironic to have spent so many months deployed in less-than-ideal conditions, longing for the green trees and gentle hills in New Hampshire to now find myself taking comfort in returning to the desert. Of course, this time I was on top of the world in a suit and tie instead of on the ground in desert fatigues, and carrying a seventy-pound pack.

A knock on the door snapped me out of my reminiscing.

“Come in.”

Chloe poked her head in, flashing a smile. “I, uh, hoped you might have some time this morning. Would it be okay to ask some questions? Professional, of course. Not chitchat.”

She was dressed in a black pantsuit with a crisp white shirt. I wasn’t much on fashion these days, but I’d grown up around it enough to recognize she wore it well. Yet it was a shame the outfit hid her sexy legs which had been on display in her skirt yesterday.

Shit. I needed to stop my train of thought. Pronto.

“Yes. Take a seat.” The sooner she familiarized herself with my routine, the easier it would be to get along.

She sat down with a pen and notebook. “Please forgive me if this sounds like a speed dating round. I simply want to learn enough so I can service you—” She suddenly stopped as if she’d replayed the words coming out of her mouth. “Oh, crap, I mean be of service, or I should say, help you any way I can.”

I had to hold in my chuckle. The way she blurted out the wrong words and turned pink with embarrassment was far too charming for comfort.

“Okay. Go ahead.”