I just wonder what sin I committed in some past dreary life to wind up at the mercy of Lincoln freaking Burns.
8
A Flirt And Flutter (Lincoln)
“Are we done here, boss? As much fun as it’s been, I have a mountain of work. Can I go?” She bats her eyes, utterly oblivious to what it does to me.
“No,” I say sternly.
“Why not?”
She has to ask? Like she doesn’t know she went peeping through a very dark, private window into my life, and I’m basically letting her off with a slap on the wrist?
“You remember earlier when you said we were even?” I ask.
Nevermore takes a deep breath. Her eyes narrow. Everything is effort with her, the little brat.
“Yes?” she whispers.
“We’re not, but we’re going to be even very soon.”
“Oh, yeah? What does that mean?”
“Did you notice Lucy wasn’t here when you came in this morning?” I look down, rubbing at this minor smudge on my desk.
“I didn’t have time to notice anything. This impatient nutter pulled me into his office and accused me of stalking and other high crimes.”
She gets my eyes.
My very tired eyes, thoroughly exhausted with this sniping back and forth.
“Well, she’ll be gone for at least the next eight weeks. Possibly longer,” I say.
“She had her baby?” Miss Poe smiles.
“Not yet, but she’s in labor from what I understand.”
That happy, well-wishing grin on her face fades instantly. Her eyes go wide with grief.
“Wait. Wait, now you want me to play secretary, don’t you?”
It’s hard to pull back my smile.
She’s good at catching on.
“I do have some additional work for you in the interim, yes. Don’t worry. It comes with additional compensation,” I say flatly.
She looks iced over and unamused.
“So I’m going from copywriter to your stand-in assistant?” she asks with a visible cringe.
“No. You’re going to be my right hand, and since you’re killing it on the wedding line, you’ll be doing both jobs. Doesn’t that sound like fun? I’ll spare you a chance to make more jokes about what my hands get up to when I’m hot and bothered. I’ve heard them before and they’re not goddamned funny.”
She glares at me like a desert sun wanting to make me a pile of parched bones.
“It’s like a two in one,” I continue. “Didn’t you tell me coffee duty seemed more like an assistant’s role? Maybe now—”
“Don’t even try it. You’re on coffee duty this week. A deal’s a deal!” she throws out with a desperate look.
“Go ahead and move your stuff to Lucy’s space. It’s a larger desk. You can write from anywhere, and it will be easier if my assistant is nearby,” I say matter-of-factly.
“And if I don’t agree?”
“Why wouldn’t you? I just told you it pays more.” Then I remember the day I met Dakota Poe. She turned down five hundred dollars for a cinnamon roll. “Right. I forgot you’re not motivated by money like the other ninety-nine percent of the world. You also promised me ninety days. Tell you what, help me out and you don’t have to write any runaway grooms. You’ll have full creative freedom to flex your muscles and produce whatever you want with my backing.”
In half a second, she goes from stiff as a board to a glowing red icon.
“Really? You’d better be serious.” She scratches at the corner of her lip, deep in thought. I try like hell not to stare, to acknowledge what her expressions do to me. “But what if Anna gets mad at me because I just came in and can do whatever I want?”
“I’ll talk to her. She won’t be upset. Anna loves your ideas, and if anything, this just loosens them up.”
She puffs out her cheeks and then gives me a satisfied smile.
“Fine. I’ll go move my stuff.”
Is it wrong that I can think of better things I’d like to move?
Yes, it is.
Still, I’d love to move her against the wall, hold her down, and teach those lips some sorely needed respect.
I watch like the half-mad asshole I am while she stands and walks to the door, her hips pumping, reminding me I’m a slave to thoughts I shouldn’t have.
“Miss Poe?”
“Yes?” She looks at me over her shoulder.
“You have me confused. I’m not sure which is nicer—the raven tattoo or the bird who’s wearing it,” I growl against my better judgment.
She blushes.
“Oh, shut up. That’s not even close to appropriate, Burns.”
I hold up a hand, hiding my smirk behind it.
“One more thing, Miss Poe.”
“What?”
“Since we’ve already made the mistake of getting personal, we’ll be doing a lot more of it over the next few weeks.”
“Whatever you think, bro.”
“Bro?” My eyebrows fly up and I hold in a laugh. “Did you just call me bro?”
She gives a rolling shrug.
“Yeah, you’re a bro. You’re acting like a big one today. Ciao.”
“Once you get your stuff moved, if I’m not in a meeting or on the phone, stop by my office. I’ll show you how to use Lucy’s EA Inbox.”