Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(10)

The nineteen-year-old’s face telegraphed his distress. “God, Charlie.”

“It’s okay. I’ll come see you afterward.” If she was even allowed back on the floor and not just shown the door.

People didn’t stare at her this time. She might’ve taken that for a vote of confidence if not for the funereal gloom on their faces when they glanced at her out of the corners of their eyes. Most of them had already been through the gauntlet, come out safe on the other side.

Most of them weren’t in a redundant position.

The walk upstairs and down the corridor felt like it took an eon, and then she was entering the T-Rex’s den, his door having been open. He was standing with his back to the glass wall with its incredible view, his cell phone to his ear. Today’s suit was a deep charcoal gray paired with a steel-gray shirt and a charcoal tie. Austere and dark, it threw his features into stark relief.

Gabriel Bishop was a gorgeous man.

Charlotte could admit that in the privacy of her own mind. Too big and muscled and dangerous, but gorgeous. Like a tiger was gorgeous. Right before it ate you.

Walking over to his desk, still involved in a discussion that—from the context—she guessed was with one of their South Island store managers, he picked up a cup of takeout coffee and held it out to her. She took it on a surge of hope. Despite her thoughts when they’d first met, T-Rex didn’t have a policy of offering his victims a last meal—or last drink. Since she wasn’t sure her jelly knees would continue to support her, she took a seat while he paced and talked.

After she girded herself to sip at his version of coffee, having glimpsed the tar-black stuff in the open takeout cup on his side of the desk, she found her taste buds blooming. He’d handed her a frothy, creamy latte—one of her favorites.

At this point, Charlotte had given up guessing how he knew things. But surely he wasn’t planning to fire her… unless he got off on being cruel. On raising hopes only to dash them. There were men like that. She knew. God, she knew.

Stomach a ball of ice between one thought and the next, she held on desperately to the cup as he ended the call and pinned her with his gaze.

“Ms. Baird, we need to have a serious discussion about your future.”





5


CHARLIE-MOUSE VS T-REX: ROUND 1





GABRIEL WATCHED CHARLOTTE’S SLENDER fingers tighten around the takeout cup so hard that she dented it.

Her cheeks had gone pale, but she kept her shoulders up and she found her voice. “Yes, sir?”

Good, he thought. The fact she was shy and uncomfortable around him was a distinct negative when it came to the position he was about to offer her, but she had guts and she had brains. He could work with that. “I need a new PA.”

She blinked, her fingers easing their death grip on the takeout cup. “Do you want me to help HR screen applicants?” The faintest hint of a relieved smile. “I have a good idea of what Anya’s job entailed.”

“No,” he said, taking a seat since he could tell his size intimidated her. Not that he was much smaller sitting down. “There won’t be any applicants. You are going to be my new PA.”

She just stared at him, her soft pink lips parted in a silent gasp. Bitable lips. That, he told himself, was a highly inappropriate thought, but for some reason, he couldn’t wipe it from his brain. When she wasn’t quivering in terror, Ms. Baird with her agile mind and her sparkling eyes was very, very intriguing. As for the rest of her—her shapeless clothes couldn’t hide the fact she was built like a pocket Venus. Undo her ponytail, take off the glasses—or maybe he’d leave them on—and she’d be a petite, curvy, bitable package.

Of course, his attraction to this pretty mouse wouldn’t have saved her position if she’d been incompetent. Though had the latter been true, he wouldn’t have found her anywhere near as intriguing. Smart women were his catnip.

Too bad he was her boss. “You’ll take over Anya’s role, effective immediately.”

Eyes going wide, she squeaked out a protest. “I can’t do Anya’s job!”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Really? Strange, since it appears you have been doing it for the past three years.” There was nothing he hated more in the business world than people who took credit for the hard work of others. “Anya couldn’t answer the majority of the questions I posed to you yesterday.”

Worse, unlike Charlotte, the other woman hadn’t known where to go or which files to access to get the information. She’d just smiled serenely and said she’d have the research on his desk first thing in the morning, then had no doubt gone out and e-mailed Charlotte the work requests.

Gabriel’s suspicions had been roused Monday—by the fact his PA was always available and smiling and put together in spite of the fact he’d thrown an avalanche of work at her. Any other man or woman in her position would’ve snapped at him at least once, and never, never would she have been able to leave the office at a reasonable hour. It had taken him less than five minutes to access the file records of the memos hitting his desk.

The last access code was always Anya’s—when she’d printed out the document. Everything below that linked back to Charlotte’s workstation. It was to make dead certain of his suspicions that he’d put both women through the same interview yesterday. He didn’t need a polished liar by his side; he needed Charlotte with her intelligence and her deep knowledge of the staff and their skills. Without her, it might’ve taken him weeks to discover Sinclair.