An Instant Connection (Insta-Spark)

“Keep your head up and be proud, Mandy. We haven’t done anything wrong. Don’t let anyone make you think we have. Nothing has changed except you have a far better pay grade and your new boss appreciates you. Understand?”

I squared my shoulders. “Got it.”

Each day, he was driven and passionate. He worked hard, and I loved being part of his creative projects. He was professional at all times, never displaying over-the-top PDA or drawing attention to the fact that we were a couple, but he was vigilant and fast to shut things down if he heard unkind remarks or witnessed something that displeased him. He was protective and strong but allowed me to find my own path in the office, which I appreciated. I knew he didn’t care, and if he had his way, he would demonstrate his affection openly, but he toned it down for my sake.

Behind closed doors was a different story. He often kissed my cheek, trailed his fingers down my face, touched my arm or hand while we were working, and his praise was lavish. His good-morning kiss was long and deep, and I learned not to bother with lipstick until after it happened. Regardless of the fact that we might have spent the night together, or even arrived at the office hand in hand until we entered the building, he refused to start his day without his kiss.

“I have to hold back for ten hours,” he grouched when I told him he was being silly.

“I am here all day. You see me all day,” I stressed. “You even kiss me at times.”

“Not like this,” he had countered, sweeping me into his arms and covering my mouth with his. I forgot about the office or anything else when his tongue slid along mine, sensuous and wicked. He kissed me until I was breathless and trembling in his embrace, then released me.

“That is how I want to start my day,” he insisted. “After that, I’ll be your boss. But until that very second, I’m your Mitch, and you’re my sweetheart. Got it?”

I lifted a trembling hand to my mouth, feeling his possession.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He dropped another kiss to my lips with a grin. “I’ll dial it back a bit, Mandy. I don’t want you distracted and eyeing me in an unprofessional manner, now do I?” He winked with a leer.

I had to laugh. “Heaven forbid.”

I had feared Michelle would be the hardest to deal with, and I was right. I had just refilled my pretty bowl of toffees, which I’d found upside down in the garbage can, when she stormed in, her face like thunder. Mitch appeared instantly, standing beside me.

She placed a pile of paperwork on my desk, which was empty except for my candy dish.

She stated that, given I was now Mitch’s employee, my computer and supplies would be provided by him, and I was not at liberty to remove office supplies. Anything I used would be charged to Mitch. He had perched casually on the edge of my desk, snagging toffees and opening them with gusto, humming over their flavor and forcing me to hide my grin at his actions. He interrupted her tirade.

“What does a stapler go for these days, Mildred? A good quality one. I like a good, solid stapler.”

She frowned, perplexed. “I have no idea. And it’s Michelle.”

He rubbed his chin. “Any thoughts on paper clips? I like those plas

tic-coated ones—the kind that don’t leave rust spots if you spill something on them.”

She shook her head, unsure if he was being serious. I was trying my best not to laugh.

“Huh.” He shrugged. “I thought you’d be more up-to-date on supply costs, Milly. They certainly seem like a priority to you.”

He unwrapped another candy and handed it to me. “Your favorite,” he said with a wink. “Be sure to order more of these, okay? And get a dish for my desk too. On my bill, of course.”

“Of course,” I murmured, my lips twitching.

Michelle tapped the paperwork. “These forms must be filled out immediately. If they aren’t completed today, there will be consequences.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Mitch nodded and patted his pockets with a frown.

“Okay, I’ll get Mandy on those straightaway. You got a pen, Matilda? We seem to be out.”

“No,” she snapped.

Then she went over rules and regulations, office etiquette, and guidelines—and informed me, in no uncertain terms, I was no longer an employee of Parson Planners, therefore no longer had access to the staff lounge or the perks of being a staff member.

“Don’t overstep your position.” She sniffed, glaring at me. “You have lost all your privileges here with your foolish behavior.”