If I didn’t know any better, I might say that he was trying to protect the hand that he shook like some kind of celebrity groupie. Can’t wash the hand that touched mine.
Oh my God, Chianna, get a fucking grip. He’s one of the tech industry’s top executives, not a singer in a boy band. But who am I kidding? With the way he looks—that smile, those eyes, that hair—he’d fit in with any boy band. He’d have women screaming his name and throwing their panties at him in no time.
I have a brief mental image of myself at this very same concert, with perfect aim, throwing a pair of panties to the rock god version of Kris. He catches them and inhales deeply. There’s no reason on this good earth that I should find that as hot as I do. All I know is that I do, and now I’m standing in front of the man himself, in the office and not a rock venue, with wet panties thinking about a fictional version of him.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what else you know,” Kris says.
“What?” It’s the first word out of my mouth, drawing me back to reality. My face flushes, but Kris just smiles.
“Since you’ve done your research, I’m excited to see what else you’ve learned.”
I swallow. “I hope that I do well.”
“I’m sure that I still have a few secrets that you don’t know yet. But while you’re here, I’d love to tell them to you.” He winks, and I feel that wink in every fucking cell of my body.
The blush that already started just intensifies. The way that he’s looking at me…I shake my head to clear it.
“Anything that you’re willing to teach me, I’m willing to learn.”
I realize too late exactly how that sounds, and I watch Kris’s eyes go dark. The intensity there absolutely steals my breath, and there’s no fucking way he missed my accidental double entendre. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay.” I press my lips together. “I should get back to work now.”
“See you around,” he says with a smile, and I practically flee down the hallway toward my cubicle. If anyone asks me, I’ll deny it, but I definitely spend a good twenty minutes just staring at the walls trying to catch my breath. I’ve never felt anything like that.
Hell, I didn’t even realize that people could have that kind of presence in real life. I thought that kind of thing was reserved for books and movies where everything is exaggerated and romanticized.
I pull up the document full of research that I put together before starting the job here. Kris’s photo is in there, and it doesn’t do him justice. The photo is of him on one of the balconies of this very building. He’s standing casually, arms crossed, red tie, classic power pose.
But in the photo, he looks like any other executive. Handsome, for sure, but in that way that most top-level execs are. All the stuff I’d found about him being extraordinarily compelling and a force to be reckoned with didn’t seem to match up with the photos that I found.
Of course it wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t just experienced it. Not only did the camera not accurately capture his looks—which is completely unfair, and Core Tech needs to find a new in-house photographer immediately—but it doesn’t capture his energy. The feeling that everything in his being is entirely focused on you and that’s all that matters in the moment.
The feeling was—is—intoxicating.
“Hey,” a voice says from behind me. “Ready for lunch?”
It’s Jenna, the other intern that just started. We’ve already decided to stick together. Two female interns at a big tech firm? The second we met we knew that we were going to need allies.
“Sure.”
I grab my phone and together we walk to the elevators so we can head down to the cafeteria. Normally an office cafeteria would fill me with dread, but this place is absolutely amazing. Delicious, free food. One of the small things that Core Tech does for its employees that makes it a good place to work.
“What were you working on?” Jenna asks.
“Nothing too important,” I say. “I just met Kris Canterbar, so I was brushing up on his bio so I don’t look like a complete idiot next time.”
She laughs. “I’m sure you didn’t look like an idiot this time.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“You’re fine,” Jenna says. “But the way that you were looking at that picture, I highly doubt that the man’s bio is what you were worried about.”
I blush in spite of myself. “It was, but you can’t exactly blame me, can you?”
Jenna snorts as we exit the elevator. “No, I can’t. But honestly, I wouldn’t get any ideas. Even if we’re kind of free to do whatever as interns, he’s a bad idea. I’ve been here two days and I’ve already heard at least four stories about what a player Canterbar is.”