s was absolutely delectable. He licked his lips involuntarily, and when he caught his inadvertent admission of his desire he covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. Damn it, he needed to get out of here!
“You have a secretary?”
“An administrative assistant.”
“What’s the difference between a secretary and an administrative assistant?”
“If I had a secretary, I’d be managing her time. My administrative assistant manages mine. You know, keeps track of my schedule, reminds me of meetings, gets me the information I need to handle presentations. That sort of thing.”
“Sounds like she’s your boss.”
Chrissy laughed. “Sometimes I wonder. But I’m lucky to have her. Even though she can be nosy.”
“Like wondering why her hard-driving boss is taking a day off?”
“Yes. I never do. But maybe it’s not so bad.”
“Why’s that?”
Chrissy’s expression turned thoughtful. “Just, well, the job didn’t turn out like I thought. I’m considering other offers.”
“What offers?”
“Who’s being nosy now?” she said with a smile.
“You’re right,” he said. To distract his lust-driven thoughts, Saks pulled out the discharge papers which he had folded into a square and tucked into his jeans. He studied them as if they held the key to the mysteries of life. But the only question his testosterone-fueled brain had was when he’d make a move on Chrissy. He cleared his throat. “According to the discharge papers, you should ask me questions to keep me awake.”
“Okay. How did you join that motorcycle club of yours?”
“That’s not much of a story.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Luke hired me at Central Valley Bike Repair, and I hung around with him, and then the club, and eventually they made me a probie.”
“Probie? As in probational member?”
“Yeah, sort of a prolonged hazing. A probie gets calls all time of the day and night. Get me this, get me that. After a while they decide to take you in or not, and then they’ll give you your colors if they do.”
“Sounds rough.”
“With this club, not so bad. With some of the one-percenters it can get really raw.”
“One-percenters?”
“Organized crime within a bike club.”
“But that’s a strange nickname.”
“You, madam, obviously don’t know your motorcycle club history.”
“History wasn’t my favorite subject in school.”
“So, the story is this. Way back in 1947—”
“1947?”
“Hush, woman. It’s a long story.”