Melt for You (Slow Burn #2)(20)

He dissolves into gales of laughter that seem to continue forever. I listen, trying not to smile, until he’s caught his breath and comes back on the line. “Ach, you’re a hoora salty lassie. Pure dead brilliant.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“Now listen, this is important.”

I say drily, “I can hardly stand the anticipation.”

“When pretty boy asks you who gave you the flowers, just give him a little Mona Lisa smile and shrug. Don’t answer. Be coy as shit. If you can’t manage it, pretend you’re Mrs. Dinwiddle and do whatever you think she’d do.”

“I don’t have a mink coat and a silk fan handy. A girl needs props to make that kind of Scarlett O’Hara routine work. He’ll think I’m lame!”

Cam sighs. “He’ll think you’re mysterious. The less you say, the better.”

“Ouch. I know I’m awkward and weird, McGregor. You don’t have to rub it in.”

Over the line comes a blistering silence, then Cameron’s voice, hard as stone. “I don’t ever wanna hear you put yourself down again, Joellen. Don’t do it out loud, and don’t do it in your head, either. Show yourself some damn respect, woman, or no one else will.”

My cheeks heat. I chew the inside of my lip for a while, composing various scathing retorts, but none of them have any teeth because I know he’s trying to be supportive. Plus, he’s right.

Grr.

“Understood?” he prompts.

“Yes. Fine. Okay.”

“Good. Now get back to work. And Joellen?”

He still sounds mad, so I’m hesitant when I answer, “What?”

There’s a pause. He exhales, then says softly, “You’re not weird. You’re unique. There’s a difference.”

He hangs up before I can reply, leaving me staring at the phone in disbelief. What the hell just happened?

I can’t dwell on it, though, because Denny has arrived at my cubicle with a large cardboard box on a dolly. “Hey, kiddo! Special delivery!”

Shasta pops back up over the cubicle wall like a groundhog, eyes bugging out. “Another delivery? What is it?”

Why is this girl suddenly so interested in my business? “I wish I could tell you, but unfortunately my X-ray vision isn’t working today.”

She’s too busy ogling the box to be put off by my sarcasm.

Denny parks the dolly upright and removes a folding work knife from a pocket of his trousers. He slices open the tape on the top of the box. “It’s a new chair for you, kiddo. Mr. Maddox put in a requisition over the weekend.”

The breath leaves my lungs in a wheeze. Shasta and I gape at each other.

Denny makes a great show of unpacking the box, cutting at the cardboard so the chair is revealed all at once when the sides fall away.

“That’s the new ergonomic model,” whispers Shasta, agog.

I don’t know about ergonomic, but it makes my current chair look derelict.

“Oh, fantastic, you brought it up!” says a male voice to my left, and my heart stops.

It’s Michael, watching approvingly as Denny dusts off the chair with a rag taken from his back pocket, even though there’s not a speck of dust on the thing.

“Yes, sir! You said first thing Monday, so I made sure to do it before my regular rounds.”

Shasta and I share a stunned glance, and I know we’re both suffering the same brain meltdown. Michael ordered Denny to bring me a new chair “first thing.” Like it was a priority. And then he showed up to make sure it was done!

Don’t get ahead of yourself—he’s probably just about to tell you you’re not getting the raise you requested!

He looks perfect today, so perfect he’s almost blindingly beautiful. Smooth hair, gorgeous navy-blue suit, freshly shaven jaw. He obviously didn’t spend another night on his office sofa. He turns his gaze to me and dazzles me with a killer smile.

“Good morning, Joellen.”

I love you and want to have all your babies. “Uh . . . morning.”

He sends a friendly nod to Shasta, who giggles. “Hi, Mr. Maddox!”

“Good morning, Shasta. What a lovely sweater you’re wearing. That color suits you.”

I can tell Shasta wants to run over to him, throw her arms around his neck, and lay a big wet one on him, but she manages to control herself.

“Thank you. Blue’s my favorite color.”

“Mine, too,” says Michael, causing Shasta to furiously blush.

I’m not surprised. Making females swoon is his superpower.

Then Michael notices the bouquet of roses on my desk. He does a comical double take, blinking in surprise. “That’s quite the enormous bouquet. Is it your birthday, Joellen?”

It stings a little that he’d assume the only reason I’d ever get flowers is for a birthday, but who am I kidding? I don’t even get them then. “Oh, no, those are just from—”

I bite my tongue just in time. Then, frantically trying to think of how Mrs. Dinwiddle would handle this situation and remembering Cam’s suggestion that I should act “coy as shit,” I gaze fondly at the roses as if remembering a night of passion.

On a dreamy sigh, I say, “A friend.” Then I bat my lashes and look demurely at my feet.