Play with Me

With him. Relief washes over me. “Thank you.”

“See if you still feel that way in a few days from now. I’ll let Maggie know about the changes.”

“Why is she Maggie and I’m Ms. Miller?”

“Because she’s expressed a dislike for formality, and she and I are not you and me. If we are going to work this closely together, we have to go back to formality and stay there.”

“Translation,” I say. “No …”

“Licking, touching, or fucking,” he supplies. “Nor will we talk about it again. You have my word. Everything from this point forward is about the job.”

A pang of disappointment fills me and I shove it aside. “Thank you, Mr. Ward, for the clarification.” And the promise of many thigh-squeezing, miserable moments. But I will prevail. My gut tells me this is where I belong.

“Just making sure we both know the rules,” he replies.

“I guess now we’re clear.”

“I guess we are,” he murmurs softly, and there is an undercurrent to his words, a heat to his eyes that holds me captive. The air is suddenly crackling with the possibilities we never explored. With the desire we still share for each other. I want to press myself to him and beg him to fuck me and get it out of our systems.

Abruptly, it seems, his phone rings, a magnified sound that nearly makes me jump. Damion shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “That’s our time-out buzzer. Let’s hope we don’t need it often.” He rolls to the desk and his shoulder brushes my leg, and it is like an electric shock wave shooting straight to my sex.

His gaze lifts to mine, barely banked passion in its depths. “Correction,” he says softly. “We most definitely are going to need a lot of time-outs.” He answers the call.

I start to leave, but he motions me to stay.

“Yes, I have a new assistant handling the coordination,” Damion replies to something his caller has said. “We’re getting things together. I’ll have my new assistant, Ms. Miller, call you back with the confirmation.” He hangs up the phone and reaches for the offer letter and a pen, scribbling something on it. “This will make things easy.” He turns the paper around for me to see. “Sign it and initial by my changes. Call Maggie and tell her you need her to pick it up and get you online officially this time.”

I glance at the paperwork and see that the title has changed but nothing else. “My pay—”

“You can keep the raise.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. Don’t argue. I’m the boss. Remember?”

“Yes, but—”

“Boss, Ms. Miller,” he says, tapping the pen to his chest. “That’s me. You do what I say. And I have a feeling I’m going to have to remind you often.” He glances at the silver watch on his wrist. “I have a Skype call in five minutes. Text me your business email when you get it live.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a folder, offering it to me. “This is the information on my pet project, a charity poker tournament here at the casino the weekend after next, benefiting a local shelter. Supposedly it’s completely in order. At this point, I do not want to trust that anything that was supposed to be done is really done. When you have your email, I’ll get you the spreadsheet to go with the file.”

His phone rings again and he reaches for it. Our conversation is over, but I don’t feel dismissed. I feel as if I’ve just arrived, and I’m not sure if it’s about the job or the man, or both. I have a feeling I’ll be finding out sooner rather than later.

Part Eight

Mr. Ward…

Maggie shows up at my desk as I hang up with my cell provider, and I take the opportunity to give her my new local number for the files. After jotting it down in a file she’s holding, she gives me a keen inspection. “So you’re staying in this job?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“You didn’t want the other job?”

“No.”

She frowns. “You do know I’m being nosy and you aren’t cooperating, don’t you?”

I laugh. “Yes.”

She looks aghast. “Give me a pebble.”