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He swung his arms from side-to-side as he rattled off the different departments within Moore Industries.

Several doors lined either side of her, and Blythe snuck a peek inside the ones that were open. A copy room, lounge, and conference room were just a few she had been able to make out as the receptionist took her farther down the long, never-ending hallway.

“Mr. Moore is in a meeting right now but will be finished shortly. He’s instructed me to have you wait in his office.” He pushed open the double doors that were located at the end of the hall.

“Okay, thank you. I didn’t catch your name.” Blythe turned around, but the receptionist was shutting the door.

Alrighty then.

The office was massive, probably the size of half the floor. One whole wall was made up of glass that gave an outstanding view of the city. Skyscrapers towered high for as far as the eye could see, their mirrored, iridescent windows casting rainbows across the glass.

The rest of the office was just as expensive and immaculate as everything else, but she didn’t expect any less, especially when stepping into the office of Dietrich Moore. His desk was to her right, but “desk” didn’t quite describe the mammoth piece of glass and chrome that had to be over seven feet in length.

She let her gaze travel the rest of the room. Black and white abstract paintings lined the walls, but the one above his desk was huge and painted an angry red. Swirls and splashes on the canvas reminded her of blood being sprayed.

She pulled her cardigan tighter around her chest. The rumors she had heard about “The Bear” were enough to give anyone nightmares, and now she had agreed to work directly for him.

Blythe went over and sat in one of the two black leather couches several feet across from the desk. A bar fully stocked with liquor was to her left, and the idea of taking a few shots to help ease her nerves sounded glorious at the moment.

Shifting on the leather, she felt heat spread through her. At twenty-three, she shouldn’t be getting hot flashes, but the prospect of whom she was about to meet scared the shit out of her. She swept her gaze back to his desk.

The standard equipment lined the glass: top-of-the-line computer, a few stacks of files, and a phone. It was bare, for all intents and purposes, given the fact this was the CEO of one of the country’s most affluent corporations.

A Newton’s Cradle caught her eye, and she stood. When she was in front of his desk, she reached forward and grabbed the small metallic ball at one end. It was cool and heavy between her fingers, and when she let it go and watched the hypnotic momentum of the two end balls swinging in tandem, she became lost in thought. Intense heat seeped up her back, and the sense of no longer being alone invaded her.

Blythe spun around and came face-to-face with a very wide, suit-covered chest. She gripped the edge of the desk behind her and craned her neck back. She had seen plenty of pictures in the tabloids of Dietrich Moore, but standing right in front of him did not do him justice. The click, click, click of the cradle filled the room.

He leaned forward, and his scent invaded her nostrils. His cologne was subtle yet powerful, and when he was so close that the tanned flesh of his neck was inches from her mouth, she had to hold her breath or make a very embarrassing moan.

The mesmerizing noise stilled seconds later, and he pulled away. His dark blue eyes regarded her silently. In person, he was even more gorgeous. Dark hair cut short, yet long enough to sweep over his forehead, had her fingers itching to brush the strands away.

“Do you know what Newton’s Cradle demonstrates?” His voice was deep and sexy, and she could imagine he sounded like that in the bedroom. Blythe found herself shaking her head in response. “It demonstrates conservation or momentum and energy by the series of swinging spheres.” Blythe didn’t respond because, honestly, she didn’t know how to. He took several steps back, and she finally exhaled. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath that whole time.

For several long moments, he watched her, and Blythe felt like an insect under a microscope. The awkwardness grew inside of her until she started to shift on her feet.

“Didn’t anyone ever explain to you that you shouldn’t touch others’ belongings, especially if they are your boss’s possessions?”

If Blythe hadn’t been speechless before, his words would have shut her the hell up right then.

She knew exactly what she was getting into when she agreed to accept this job, but damn if he didn’t bring a whole new level to the word asshole. She dropped her head and clasped her hands behind her back. “I apologize, Sir.” For several long seconds, he didn’t respond, and Blythe was struck with his commanding aura.