Misadventures with the Boss (Misadventures #12)(16)

But no. I examined the calendar, the to-do list, everything. Not a single thing had been misplaced—right down to my haircut on the eighteenth. She’d taken care of everything.

I glanced up at the ceiling and then trudged back to my desk and sat again. I had plenty to do. I had no business worrying about what I was going to do about this assistant. Still, a part of me felt like I should have known this was a bad idea.

Considering how attentive and responsive she’d been on that rooftop, there shouldn’t have been a doubt in my mind that she’d be the same professionally. She did everything wholeheartedly—just like me.

I growled under my breath as I opened my emails and tried to focus on the many messages but found there was nothing for me to look at.

Nothing at all.

My inbox had been completely emptied.

Pressing the intercom, I waited as Piper said, “How can I help you, Mr. Dane?”

“What happened to all my emails?” I snapped.

“They’ve been coordinated to appear when you need them. I cleaned out the junk mail and scheduled the rest. If you prefer to see them in total, just click the check box to the right of your inbox. I hope I didn’t overstep…?”

“You—” I closed my eyes and then opened them again. If her email system was as foolproof as she said… I clicked the checkbox, and they all appeared. “No, you didn’t. Thank you.”

I released the button and glanced around the room again.

She was the world’s best assistant. And the best lover I’d ever had. In fact, I’d spent my entire weekend replaying my night with her over in my mind and my entire Sunday night trying to convince myself I had the will power to stop myself from jerking off while thinking about her.

Surely having her here would be total hell.

Unless, of course, I could have the best of both worlds…





Chapter Seven





Piper





“Tequila!” I shouted, both as an order to the bartender and in response to the catchy song blaring over the bar speakers.

I sipped the margarita in front of me, pushed my empty shot glass toward the edge of the bar, and then glanced around at my fellow businesspeople, all unwinding on Cinco de Mayo after a long day of work.

The past week had been a blur of activity and organization, but I was definitely falling into the swing of things. In fact, a few times, some of my officemates had stopped by my desk to offer their congratulations on my ability to “tame the dragon.”

And after working with Jackson all week, I could definitely see why. His moods were changeable to say the least. Driven one minute and frustrated the next. Sometimes he would fall into a trance so deep that I was sure he didn’t hear me when I spoke. But other times…

Other times, I knew he saw me. His gaze bore into me, and though I’d been careful to wear my drabbest business clothes, I was sure he was seeing right through them. That he could tell the way my nipples still stiffened to a straining peak whenever I set eyes on him. That he knew the way my knees weakened when he spoke. But more than that, I was sure he reveled in it.

A few times, he’d even called me into his office only to tell me to leave again, his question unasked. But I knew what the question was. I could see it in the tick of his jaw when he looked at me or the way he breathed in my perfume whenever I was near.

It had been so hard to leave that night on the rooftop. To walk away and not beg him to do it all over again. But I knew if I didn’t, I’d be in deep. Too deep. He’d made it more than clear he wanted to hook up. A one-night thing and nothing more. Once he’d rocked my world—twice, no less—I hadn’t needed much prompting to head for the hills. If I didn’t and we did that again?

I might have dropped to one knee and asked for his hand in marriage.

Okay, not really, but still. He was addictive. I knew it from one taste. Which meant I had to stay away.

Only now there was no escape, was there?

The bartender set another shot in front of me, and with the memory of Jackson’s dark eyes searing into me, I downed it in one and sipped my margarita as a chaser.

Tonight was not going to be about Jackson Dane. Truth be told, I already spent way too much time thinking about—and fantasizing over—him. No, tonight I was young and single in a new city and looking for someone to catch my eye.

Which, luckily, they did.

My gaze fell on a man staring me down across the bar, his red tie partially undone as he rolled the tip of his finger around his beer glass. He looked like a young professional, complete with the suit and slicked-back hair. The slightest bit of five o’clock shadow darkened his features, and I offered him a coy smile before turning my attention to my drink again.

He was handsome. Slightly out of character, maybe, but I had just enough liquid courage in me to consider crossing the bar and introducing myself.

As it was, though, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and did my best to squish down the fact that all I could think was how he wasn’t quite as good-looking as Jackson. Didn’t have that sparkle. That sexy charm that rolled off him in waves.

Not by a mile.

“Hey,” rumbled a deep voice near my ear. I glanced up to find myself practically nose-to-nose with this new handsome stranger.

“I’m Steve. What’s your name?”