Bossman (Dirty Office Romance 1)

Opening the email, I verified I was definitely at the right address…but then I saw the problem. The email read, Dress comfortably, come hungry, and bring only your creativity. See you at 1! Shit. I had looked at it too fast the first time and mistakenly read the one with an exclamation point as an eleven. I was two hours early. No wonder no one was here yet.

I’d made it halfway back down the stairs when I heard the clank of a lock behind me. Glancing back as the door opened, I froze mid-step at the sight of Chase wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

***

“No, really, I can go. I have errands I’ve been avoiding forever, and it was my screw up. I’m two hours early, and I’m sure you have things to do.”

Chase had insisted I come inside.

He put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re staying. I’m going to go upstairs and get dressed, and then I’ll make us something to eat.” He motioned to a huge living room off to the left. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be down in a few.”

I nodded and did my best not to check him out. But he was only in a towel, for God’s sake, and a girl only has so much discipline. Against my better judgment, I did a quick scan of his chest. When I caught sight of a noticeable bulge in that area of his towel, my eyes lingered, and Chase noticed.

He arched an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like me to stay this way.”

Embarrassed, I shook my head and walked into the living room to hide my blush. I thought I heard him chuckle as he went up the stairs.

While he was gone, I took the opportunity to check out the living room. There was a huge fireplace with a mantel above it. A few framed pictures were displayed, and I lifted each one to take a closer look. Chase and what must have been his parents at his college graduation—they beamed proudly, and he wore his signature messy hair and a crooked grin. There were a few other family photos and a photo of him with the mayor. But the picture on the end of the shelf stole my heart. It was a sonogram dated two weeks earlier, bearing the patient’s name Anna Parker-Flynn. He’d complained about his sister to me at happy hour, yet framed her baby-to-be photo.

Behind the couch was an alcove with the tallest windows I’d ever seen—at least nine feet in height, and they started two or three feet off the ground. The glass had colorful leaded panels, and light streamed in, beaming a kaleidoscope prism of colors across the room. Beneath the windows were built-in bookshelves. I checked out the titles—you can tell a lot about a person by what they read. Steve Jobs: American Genius, Stephen King, David Baldacci, a few classics, and…Our Endangered Values: America’s Moral Crisis by Jimmy Carter.

Huh?

Now dressed, Chase came into the room and groaned when his cell phone immediately rang. He apologized, saying he needed to take an overseas call. I really didn’t mind. I’d intruded two hours early, and snooping at glimpses of his private life was fascinating to me. He was barking at someone on the phone from the other room when I picked up an old, beat-up Gibson acoustic guitar that was leaning against the corner of the alcove.

I strummed lightly, and the sound brought back old memories. Owen and I used to have the same guitar when we were kids. Instinctively, my fingers began to press down on the chords to “Blackbird” as I strummed. It had been years since I played, yet it still flowed from my memory with ease.

When I was done, I found Chase standing in the archway, watching me. His face, which was usually easy to read, was impassive, stern almost. He just stood there, staring at me. Maybe I’d overstepped my bounds by picking it up.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched it.” I gently placed the guitar back where I’d found it, leaning in the corner.

“It’s fine.” He turned abruptly and walked out of the room.

I opened my mouth to call after him, but could find nothing to say.

When he came back a few minutes later, he smiled, but still wasn’t his usual flirty self. “Come on. I’ll make us a bite to eat.”

I followed him into the kitchen. The historic architecture of the brownstone had been carefully maintained, yet the entire kitchen was stocked with high-end, modern appliances and granite. Somehow the old and new blended together beautifully.

“Wow. This is amazing.” I looked up at the soaring ceilings and all the tile-work on the walls. There was an island with copper pots and pans hanging from a rack above it. Chase grabbed a pan and started taking things out of the refrigerator.