“You can if you’re strong enough to say no. I mean, I’ve never been particularly good at that, but I’m sure it’s on your geek gene somewhere.”
“Out of all our siblings, you are my least favorite.”
“I can live with that,” he laughs. “I gotta go though. I have a meeting in a few. I’ll call you tonight.”
“Call while it still qualifies as night and not morning, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
The line goes dead and I realize I’m still standing behind my desk, looking at the door.
Mallory
THE WATER IS HOT, NEARLY scalding, lapping against my chest. The air in the bathroom is steamy, fogging up the mirrors as I relax in a blissful, lavender-scented bath. All thoughts of the day—the insane tempo of Landry Holdings, the exhilaration of a first day, my sexy-as-hell boss that I can barely look at with a straight face—begin to melt into the water.
Filling my body with the lovely mist, I feel Graham’s hand on my—
“Excuse me.”
“Oh!” I yelp, jumping in my office chair and bumping my knee on the underside of the desk. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Because your eyes were closed,” Graham points out. My cheeks flush as I wonder how long he stood there and watched me. It’s a full minute before I realize he’s awaiting an explanation. It’s another minute before it’s obvious he will either get one or he’ll keep standing there.
“I was visualizing,” I say, hoping we can now move on.
“Visualizing what?”
Getting ready to visualize you naked, but you ruined that. “I was doing a quick relaxation technique. Walking through what I plan on doing when I get home to relax from the stress of the day.”
His sun-kissed skin pulls together along the ridge of his forehead. He looks at me like I’m crazy. I return the favor as a buzzing noise quietly sounds from my desktop phone, alerting me it’s five o’clock. The light at the top dims. How efficient.
“Was today stressful for you?” he asks.
“Kind of.” I rub my knee from the ding to the desk and stand. “It was my first day. Aren’t they always stressful?”
“I haven’t had a first day in a long time,” he grins.
“That’s probably true,” I admit. “Trust me, they stink.”
“‘Stink’? Are we back in high school?”
“Would you rather me say ‘suck’?”
I don’t mean it to come out so sassy, so much like an innuendo. I guess that’s just what happens when a man stands before you in a suit and looks so good, you aren’t sure he could look better stripped down.
His shoulders are wide, filling out the top of his jacket, his trim waist fitted with a brown leather belt. Everything fits him so perfectly, I’m sure it’s custom-made. So many men get worn by the suit. Graham Landry definitely wears his.
“I think we need to change the subject,” he says, clearing his throat. “How do you feel about your day?”
“Good. Gina, the girl from HR, trained me most of the day. There’s really not a lot here that’s different from any other administrative assistant job I’ve had. Just new systems, but they’re pretty easy to figure out.”
“Besides being late, I thought you did a good job. Gina said you caught on fast.”
He leans against the door, one foot over the other. I force myself not to let my gaze drop down the lines of his body and instead focus on the lines of his face. Not that it’s any easier, but more politically correct and it’ll be good to have a clear image for when I visualize it between my legs when I get home.
“I just drafted an email, defining what I’m going to need you to take on in order to make this an effective working relationship. I know it’s past five, but if you can peruse it before you leave today and send me a response, that would be helpful.”
“Sure.”