The Boss's Son Box Set

“I was glad when I saw you work here. I thought if I saw you enough, if you got used to me, then maybe I’d have another shot. Clearly I didn’t do very well with the last one.”

“You did. You were fine. Really. I just don’t want to get involved with a coworker and make my professional situation as uncomfortable as it was before when Freeman was here.”

“The fact that you’re comparing me to your ex-boss the groper is insulting. I think you may need to get the rudeness sticky note out of the trash at this rate.”

“Thanks. I’m struggling here.”

“There’s no reason to struggle. You don’t have to be upset and nervous around me. Even if I am the living proof of the only sin you’ve ever committed.”

“Not the only one.”

“The worst one?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Probably the best one, but still better forgotten.”

“Ouch. I think I liked the Freeman parallel better than being forgettable.”

“I’m screwing this up. I’m not good with people. I’m better with numbers.”

“Keep practicing then, and you’ll improve with time.”

“I think I should give up and get a goldfish. Less work than a cat, but it’s companionship,” she said wryly.

“You’ll need sticky notes to remind you to feed it and not be rude.”

“Just save your receipts, okay?” she said, hoping to cut him off.

“We were amazing together. You were so...relaxed and frank and open. I couldn’t take my eyes off you the entire night. I’d never been with anyone so smart and sarcastic and sexy. I loved that you felt a little bit out of my league.”

“Right. Because the accountant who got dumped in Tamarind is supposed to be high above you? Save the flattery, Jack. You’ve already gotten into my pants without it.”

“Oh my gosh, where is that sticky note about being rude. I’m going to wave it at you every time you are, I swear. Let me finish. You’re beautiful. You’re eager and daring in bed. You’re the woman who holds the purse strings at my dad’s company. That’s not a complication. That means that you’re a competent professional and you have a job. I don’t date girls who don’t have jobs. I was done with socialites by the time I was twenty. I want a woman who thinks for herself, about something more than designer labels.”

“I like designer labels. I don’t have any, but I do like them,” she confessed.

“You think about other things, though. You said yourself you’re good with numbers. The other thing is, you were brilliant with me.”

“So I can add decimals and drive you wild?”

“That’s a fantastic dating profile if I ever heard one.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said, smiling despite herself.

“Do you have plans for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“What are they?”

“To eat dinner, stalker,” she teased.

“Let me take you out. We had a great time at Tamarind. Should we go there?”

“I’m not going back there.”

“I’ll take that as encouragement since you denounced Tamarind but not me specifically.”

“I don’t think....it’s a good idea,” she said half-heartedly.