His Temporary Assistant

There was no missing the tension in his tone.

Not that I empathized with him. Of course not.

I hated him. I was almost sure. Not including his mouth—at least when it was on mine.

I turned back to him and cocked my hip against the bar. “Did your coffee come in?”

“Not yet. I have one last pod.” He grimaced. “I was saving it for an emergency.”

Today qualified on all levels.

Without him even having to ask, I retrieved a clean mug and put it on the Keurig pour tray. Then I reached into the sad, empty coffee pod basket and found one last caramel-coconut shivering under a neatly folded napkin. He’d even hidden it from view not to be tempted.

I put it in and started the machine. “I’ll call about it again on my way out as a parting gift.” I tapped the mug. “And look, I’m even making you coffee before I go.”

“You can’t go.”

“I can and I will.”

“Hear me out. As I was trying to explain to you, the filing system you started is inspired. It’s efficient and makes it easy to find files. It’s even a perfect way to do digitals so we have backups.”

“I know.”

He frowned. “You know?”

I nodded. “Look, I used to work in an office much like this. It was insurance instead of law, but the basic principles apply when it comes to documentation. I set them up for digital filing as well.”

He smiled. Actually smiled.

That he hadn’t even looked that pleased after kissing me was something I was not going to examine.

“See, this is perfect. I’m prepared to give you a very nice bonus to do April’s standard duties, which isn’t much this week since she prepped most of the clients. It will mostly just be manning the phones and greeting my clients. Maybe some light transcription.”

“What about the list of doom?”

He waved his hand. “You can shred it. Well, at least the last few pages. The first is made up of perfectly valid tasks.”

“If you say so.” I narrowed my eyes. “Did you say bonus?”

He stood and came toward me. “Yes. A sizable bonus.”

“Does it come with orgasms?”

He halted in his tracks. “April returns next Monday.”

“That wasn’t a yes.”

“April returns next Monday,” he repeated as if that weighty sentence was the answer to all the world’s problems.

Or at least ours. And maybe he was right.

We could handle dealing with each other for four more days. Slightly less than that because we were already into Tuesday. Surely we could manage that much.

Possibly.

I gave his tie a lengthy stroke before I walked to the door and delivered one last parting shot on my way out. “The best way to get rid of temptation is to give into it, Preston.”

Nine