Layers(4)

His eyes roam over me with a wicked glee, stripping off every layer of clothing I have on. The air escapes my lungs at the intensity of that gaze.

I gape back at him, my jaw slightly dropped. “Mmm … just made some coffee.” I mumble my lame excuse and follow it with a thin smile.

“So I assume it wasn’t a request, then?” His teasing eyes are on me, that sexy grin is still plastered on his face, and his expression insinuates pure sin.

“Too bad,” he murmurs, and I have to swallow hard.

“Is that your thing?” I ask, recovering.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Sneaking behind people and trying to engage them in salacious activities?” A low laugh, deep and hoarse, comes as a reply.

“No.” He scratches his amused lips with his thumb, looking at me with a slightly tilted head. “And just for the record, I believe it was you who started with the indecent proposals.”

I open my mouth, looking frantically for some clever comeback that doesn’t appear to come, and instead feel my face heat up. Again. Damn.

“You know you’re not supposed to be in the CEO’s private kitchen, right?” he mutters, that expression of ridicule refusing to leave his face. Private kitchen? So what’s he doing here?

“Neither are you,” I retort.

He frowns, briefly taken aback at my reply.

“Well, I don’t really care. You know, your CEO Mr. Stark sounds real condescending. Why would he need a private kitchen, anyway? Can’t he interact with the proletariat?” I tilt my head, challenging the attentive hazel eyes that stare back deep into mine. “I guess he could spare a cup of coffee, couldn’t he?”

Towering over me, he slides his toned arms to the sides of his body, hands in his jeans pockets, his eyes locked on mine.

~~~

The lazy curve that slowly forms on his lips encourages me and I go on: “I don’t think Mr. I-own-the-world would mind if I had a cup of coffee.” He shrugs, appearing to enjoy a private joke.

“We could always ask him, Miss …?”

“It’s Hayley Grace,” I reply and shift, a tad uncomfortable. “Hayley,” I murmur next as my courage gradually flees per Mr. Virile’s unconcealed attention. There’s a knot forming in my stomach caused by those naughty eyes of his.




He extends his hand for a shake. “Daniel,” he declares, followed by a lopsided smile. “Charmed,” he adds. I shake his large palm and flinch from the heat wave that crosses over me. He doesn’t seem indifferent, either. I look down at my shoes as he slowly examines me head to toe, causing my nerves to quake. Why these shoes? Should have listened to Tasha. What would hot-piece here think to himself about my juvenile red sneakers? For god’s sake, I never listen.

As if reading my mind he casually mutters, “Cool shoes.”

I stare up at him, slightly startled, though I rapidly compose myself and beam at him. “Thank you, Daniel. I think so, too.” I’m rewarded with gleaming eyes.

Catching a glimpse of my barely touched coffee cup, I scowl and look down at my blouse; the stains are evidently still there.

He watches and says, “Well Miss Grace, perhaps this stacked up CEO of ours has something especially for this sort of misfortune around here.” He nods at my blouse and pivots to the side. As he bends to one of the cupboards under the sink his arm accidentally rubs against mine, running electric vibes up my spine. What is this delish smell? I need to stop myself from leaning in for another sniff. He grabs a pack of wet towels, handing me the pack as he flexes to stand, facing me this time. He pauses long enough for my eyes to meet his. “These should do the job.”

“Thank you,” I reply, gaping at him, mesmerized. Control yourself, stop with the ogling.

Hastily I rub the little brown stains dotted on my shirt, disturbingly aware that I’m doing it under his unnerving, steady stare. Trying to make amends with my job-interview-camisole, I’m reminded that I should join my group. I glance through the dark glass walls, only to notice that the group has proceeded further away from where I originally left them.

I grimace, looking under my lashes at Daniel, whose piercing gaze makes me even more ill at ease, and start walking toward the door.

“Miss Grace, don’t forget your coffee,” he says after me, a wide smirk coating his too damn handsome face.

I look back at him, at the door and next at the coffee, weighing the situation. I quickly move a step back to take a sip of the coffee. Right after I stride toward the door, I say “Bye, Daniel,” over my shoulder and flash my most radiant grin.

“Goodbye, Miss Grace. It was an absolute pleasure.” He winks at me teasingly. Nearly reaching the group, I turn back to look his way, only to find him still watching me, shining hazel eyes accompanied by an up-to-no-good expression. Wow.

“Where have you been?” Tasha asks, scolding, accusing hands resting on her hips.

“Had a quick coffee.” My lips twist into a thin enigmatic line and I shrug.

At around noon, I’m summoned to Mrs. Greenich’s office for a quick interview while the rest of the group is gathered at one of the meeting rooms in level two.

“What can you tell me about yourself, Miss …?” She stretches the ending while looking at my CV, “Miss Grace.” She adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose; there’s a twist on her lips that resembles a smile. Mrs. Greenich is doing a good job at looking somewhat attentive as I fill her in on my academic achievements and occupational experience. To her next question I elaborate on my career goals, trying hard to somehow make it sound like I’m interested in working in the high-tech sector.