Catastrophe Queen

I didn’t think it was going to hurt if I told him I was attracted to him, but that had.

“I’ve only been here a week or so. Of course it’s going to hurt.” I hesitated. “It’s not like I’ve been here six months and we’re going on a date.”

“So don’t tell anyone.” He lifted the mug to his lips. “We don’t have to take out a billboard on the highway, Mallory. Didn’t you listen to my mom’s story about how she and her dad met?”

“Yeah, but I listened to like twenty of her stories that night, and they’ve all kind of blurred into one.”

He laughed. “True. They dated for a year before they told anyone. Dad didn’t know how my grandpa would react if he said he was dating his assistant, so they kept it a secret.”

“But didn’t they know each other before he hired her?”

Cameron shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. They weren’t close friends or anything—they knew each other in passing and because they moved in the same social circles.”

“Which we don’t.”

“True, but you’ve met the women who move in mine.”

“I have. Tall, slim, beautiful.”

“And total bitches,” he finished. “I prefer clumsy brunettes with crazy old relatives.”

I pursed my lips. He was trying to systematically wear me down, and damn it, it was working. I’d been adamant from the start that this wouldn’t happen because there was nothing more awkward than working with someone you’d broken up with.

“Okay, so we date. What happens if it doesn’t work out? If you decide that the clumsy brunette with crazy old relatives isn’t what you prefer?” I raised an eyebrow. “We still have to work together, right?”

He pushed up from his seat and walked around the desk, then perched on it right in front of me. “That might happen if you don’t put your shoes back on.”

I glared at him.

Laughing, he reached out and pushed hair behind my ear. “If it makes you comfortable, we won’t go on a date. We’ll just sit here in the office, behind our desks, constantly being attracted to each other while imagining the other naked.”

“You imagine me naked?”

“Do you imagine me naked?”

“This feels like a trap,” I said slowly. “I know—if we get to Friday and you still want to go out with me, I’ll let you take me on one date, in secret, after work.”

“You’ll let me, will you?”

“Yes. I’ll let you.”

His lips curled into a smile that said he was more amused by me than anything. “You’ll let me,” he drawled.

That was all the warning I had before he leaned down, cupped the back of my neck, and kissed me so deeply I felt it all the way down to my toes.

I almost moaned when he pulled away because his kiss had felt so good. It was unfair. He was playing dirty and he knew it.

“You know the problem with growing up with money?” he asked with a tilt of his head and a curve of his lips.

“There are only so many ponies your parents can buy you before you run out of stables?”

His smile got a little wider. “No. It’s that you’re used to getting what you want. So I’ll get you on a date. That, I can promise you.”

“If you say so.” I stood, then before I left, stopped right in front of him. There was a smudge of my lipstick on the corner of his mouth, and I didn’t even think before I reached out and rubbed at it with my thumb.

The move was horribly intimate, and I drew in a deep breath when I met his eyes. There was a fire in his gaze, one that made my stomach clench.

I stepped back before anything else happened. “Excuse me. I need to go fix my lipstick.”

“Music to my ears.” He grinned. “Also, you never did tell me why you were wearing heels today.”

Damn it. I thought I’d gotten away with it.

I stopped in the doorway and turned. “Honestly, I really did think that you’d fire me, so I wore them to be this strong, independent woman, but then I realized I was afraid of tripping over my own feet, so that kind of negated the whole thing.”

“You’re really selling me on your good points, aren’t you?”

“Eh, I make a mean sausage and bacon frittata. It balances out.” I shrugged and smiled. “Cooking is about the one thing I can do without disaster.”

“I like food. I’m sold.” He grinned and winked, then stood up. “Now, go get back to work.”

Rolling my eyes, I did just that.

***

The rest of the week felt like a breeze. We’d settled into a comfortable, slightly flirtatious relationship at work. It honestly helped that he wasn’t always at the office, and I would be a liar if I said I hadn’t been block-booking them so he’d disappear for a few hours.