The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(19)

Jameson glares at the doors, and I twist my fingers nervously in front of me as we fly up through the floors. Oh man, he’s going to fire me. That stupid fucking Ricardo has gotten me into trouble. This is all his fault.

I wasn’t even talking back to him . . . you know.

When we get to the top floor, the doors open, and once again he strides off. I hesitate. Does he expect me to run after him? I’m not a fucking puppy.

Who in the hell does this asshole think he is?

I fake a smile at his receptionist and storm in after him. He holds the office door open for me, and I brush past him. He closes the door and flicks the lock.

“What are you doing?” he snaps.

“Is that a trick question?” I hold my arms out wide. “I’m standing in your office. What does it look like?”

“I mean, why the hell are you openly flirting with that idiot from downstairs?” he demands.

My mouth falls open in horror. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Bullshit. I saw it with my own fucking eyes.”

“What?” I snap. “Don’t tell me you dragged me all the way up here to chastise me about talking at my desk while I work.”

“I am not paying you to get hit on, Emily,” he growls.

I put my hands on my hips as fury begins to pump through my bloodstream. “Listen here, you.” I hold my finger up. “Firstly, I’ll get hit on by whomever I want.”

He narrows his eyes and puts his hands on his hips, too, mirroring my stance.

“Secondly”—I put my second finger up—“as my boss, you do not get to comment on my dating life.”

“Ha,” he huffs as he rolls his eyes in disgust.

“Thirdly”—I hold three fingers up—“I’m new in town, and I have no friends, so if he’s being nice, I’m not going to be rude, am I?”

“Not on my time,” he growls.

“Did you really drag me all the way up here just to say that?” I frown.

“No,” he barks. “I want to know why you won’t go out with me.”

My face falls. “Are you serious?” I whisper.

“Deadly.”

The mood between us changes and turns from anger to something else.

“Because I can’t risk losing my job if we don’t work out.”

He stares at me for a moment. “That job interview you were going for twelve months ago. Was it here?”

I pause for a moment. Now I’m going to sound like a loser. “Yes.”

“How long have you been trying to get a job here?”

“Three years,” I huff. “So forgive me if I don’t want to throw it away for a one-night stand.”

“Why would you think I would fire you?”

“Isn’t that what CEOs do when they have finished with their secretaries? Throw them to the side?”

He frowns as he watches me. “I wouldn’t know—I’ve never been attracted to someone I work with. And besides, I think this place is big enough that we could stay out of each other’s way.”

“You’re still attracted to me?” I whisper.

“You know I am, and it’s just dinner,” he snaps. “Nobody would even know, and I most certainly wouldn’t fire you in the morning.”

“So . . .” I frown as I try to work out what the hell it is that he wants. “You would keep me a dirty little secret?”

He steps forward so that our faces are only an inch apart; our eyes are locked.

Energy begins to spark between us, and I feel my arousal sweep in. “Were you in a relationship when we spent the night together?” I ask.

“What makes you say that?”

“You never asked for my number.”

He gives me a slow, sexy smile as he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Does everybody ask for your number, Emily?” His voice has dropped to a deep, sexy tone.

“Pretty much.”

“I wasn’t looking for anything back then, and I most definitely don’t tell people I’m going to call them if I’m not.” He dusts his thumb over my bottom lip as I stare up into his big blue eyes.

“Tonight,” he whispers.

I smile softly as his breath tickles my skin. He really is quite . . .

“I’ll pick you up. Dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant . . .” His voice trails off as if he’s imagining something else.

Oh, that sounds good. I smile as he leans closer. His lips tenderly touch mine as he holds my jaw in his hand. My eyes close as my feet lift from the floor.

Robbie . . . what the hell am I doing?

Damn this man. What is this spell that he has over me that makes me do the most random things? Like one-night stands and forgetting I’m in a committed relationship . . . and breathing.

Oh my God. I have a boyfriend. Shit. “I’m so sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.” I take a step back from him. “I have a boyfriend,” I blurt out.

His face falls in horror. “What?”

“I know.” I wince. “I . . . I . . .” I shake my head because I have no words that can get me out of this. “I have a boyfriend, and I can’t go out with you.”

“Dump him,” he fires back.

“What?” I croak.