Page 256 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Nothing!” I shifted my chair to block Trent’s view of the sketch, but I must have moved too quickly, creating a draft, because the paper fluttered out from behind me and landed on the floor.

Trent reached down and snatched it up before I could.

“No—” Too late. My blood ran cold.

“Well, well…” His expression turned smug. “What do we have here?”

“Give it to me,” I demanded, thrusting my hand out. “It’s not finished.”

“I’d say it looks like something’s about to finish,” he teased.

I rose, half out of my chair, trying to grab it. Trent was taller, holding the sketch out of reach. “Just a second,” he said. “I haven’t finished admiring the proportions of this very lovely chaise.”

“Trent,” I said, annoyed. “I’m serious. Give it here.”

He lifted the paper higher, obscuring his face. “I can tell just how serious you are.”

“It’s just a little warm-up drawing,” I muttered, slumping down in my seat. Mortification surged through me.

“I’d say it looks pretty warm already.” He lowered the paper enough to waggle his eyebrows over the top of it. “Anyone I know?”

I clenched my teeth. “No.”

“Just saying…this guy looks great.” He shot me a smug grin. He knew damn well it was him. “The girl too,” he added, making me flush and squirm in my seat. Did he really think—No, bad thoughts, I scolded myself. You absolutely do not care if your boss thinks you look hot naked.

“Can I have it back now?”

He dangled the sketch out in front of me. “You want that badly to keep staring at it?” he teased. “Can’t say I blame you. It’s pretty hot.”

A blush washed across both my cheeks. This was literally the equivalent of him reading my diary. Now we both knew I was thinking about him a lot more than I should be.

I snatched the sketch back. “Can you go annoy someone else? I have work to get done.”

“I believe I was asking a valid, work-related question,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “But you clearly have more important work tasks to be getting on with. Or should I say getting off⁠—”

“Don’t even!”

He mimed zipping his lips shut, shaking with laughter as he backed out my door. “Can’t wait for you to present this piece at the next team meeting.”

“Out!” I ordered. He disappeared, but I could hear him laughing all the way across the conference room. Probably all the way back to the elevator. I picked up my water bottle, taking a couple of big swigs. My whole face was on fire. The red could probably be seen from space.

“Hey, Nat, how’s it going?” I turned to find Sheila poking her head through my door. She’d taken to calling me Nat recently. I didn’t love it, but I was rolling with it. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” I assured her. “Just chatting with the boss.”

“It sure is nice to hear Trent laugh like that.” She shook her head fondly. “He used to walk around here glowering. Now I catch him smiling to himself in the hallway.”

“Mm-hmm,” I said.

She came in and sat down. “It’s obvious how good you are for him. I still can’t believe he won’t play ball on that PR campaign. Marketing could do so much with the two of you. The public would eat you up.” She leaned toward me, like we were sharing a secret. “In the best way possible, of course.”

“Yeah, I got that.” I forced a smile, not wanting to seem like I wasn’t a good sport. In truth, I was grateful for the way he’d defended me in the meeting, because he was absolutely right: even if we had been dating for real, that kind of campaign would still have made me uncomfortable as hell.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that it’s been a rough few years for Saunders. And obviously, Trent’s had to bear the brunt of that—stepping into the role of CEO, managing the transition with his parents. I can’t even tell you how many fires he had to put out when he first took on the job. Managing public affairs took up half his time in the beginning.”

“Right…”

“I guess it’s just nice to know he has someone in his corner. I’ve always thought he takes on too much himself. It’s a lot for one person, and I know it’s hard on him.”