His Temporary Assistant

Irritating Miss Moon would be worth it.

“Perhaps you’ll be able to speak in coherent sentences once we get some food into you.” And into me, since my stomach was roaring loudly enough for the other patrons to hear.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself. Watch me eat.” I put my hand on the small of her back and nudged her forward to speak to the maître d' when it was finally our turn. “I’ve already done that once today myself.”

“You weren’t watching me eat. You were just watching me.”

The sleek redheaded maître d' cocked a brow. “Mr. Shaw, how lovely to see you…and your companion.”

“My assistant, Tanya. I have a reservation. We’re regrettably late.”

“Egregiously.” Ryan tapped her nails on her huge green bag and flashed me a wholly insincere smile.

“Ah, yes. We reserved your table. In fact, I was about to phone you. You’re never late.” Tanya shot Ryan a look.

“He got the dregs from the temp pool.” Ryan smiled again. “But considering what he’s paying me, can’t really be too surprised.”

“You don’t even know what I’m paying you.” I gazed at the side of her stupidly beautiful face. “But I can still pay you less, so keep it up,” I added against her ear.

It required me not breathing in her sex scent, but I was devoted to the cause.

She stared straight ahead. “I don’t need your money, Fancy Pants.”

Tanya cleared her throat and grabbed a pair of menus. “Lee, can you see Mr. Shaw and his assistant to the free table near the fireplace?” Her lips curved. “Mr. Shaw always likes to sit near the fire.”

Lee stepped forward and aimed a devastating smile at me. “Mr. Shaw, this way, please.”

“Do I exist? Do I still have a corporeal form?” Ryan patted her sides and slapped at her arms as if she was fighting off a bug infestation.

I fought a grin as I nudged her forward on her unsteady heels. “Don’t worry, Miss Moon, I see you quite fine,” I said in an undertone.

The glare she sent my way made my grin widen.

Then I looked up, and the person I saw wasn’t Ryan. Wasn’t anyone I wanted to see, especially in that scenario.

My father was seated in a cozy booth on the other side of the fireplace. And he wasn’t alone. A gorgeous blond who looked young enough to be his daughter—young enough to be my sister—was feeding him shrimp. The smile he had for her was one he hadn’t given my mother in ages, if ever.

Wait.

Not just any blond.

She threw her head back with a throaty laugh. A very put on one that she never used in the office. My father’s administrative assistant, Courtney, was smoothing her fingers down the lapel of his suit in a far too familiar way.

Lee said something as she brought us to our table. I didn’t hear her. Didn’t hear Ryan though her lips moved as I unbuttoned my suit jacket and took the seat opposite her.

My head was full of white noise.

“Are you listening to me? Preston.” I glanced up as she leaned over to place her hand on my arm. “Are you all right?”

Same white-hot electric reaction as earlier, I noted dully.

I had to tell my mother.

She couldn’t live with a lie. I couldn’t be complicit in it.

“Preston,” Ryan said gently, curling her fingers around my rock-hard forearm. It felt as if all my muscles were locked for battle. “Look at me for a second.”