Bewitching the Boss

Resolved, I open the door.

Gorgeous as sin in the sunlight, Jane smiles and bites her lip. “Hello again.”

And Jesus, my abdomen twists with such intensity, I can almost hear the muscles constricting. “Hello, Jane.” When did my voice get so scratchy? “Uh. Please come in.”

“Thank you.”

She pauses on the threshold to kiss me on the cheek and I inhale her scent greedily. What is that? Lemons and flowers and freshly laundered bedsheets. Damn, if I could bottle that up and sell it, the money I’d make would put the profit from my transportation app to shame.

I wouldn’t sell her scent, though.

I’d keep all the bottles locked up. All for me.

Shocked by a second wave of jealousy, I close the door behind Jane and lead her into the kitchen. Safest room in the house, right? No soft surfaces. Only cold white marble and sharp edges. Plus I’ll have the advantage of the big, granite island to hide what she does to my cock.

Oh my God, even the sound of her heels clicking in my wake is making me sweat. There are goosebumps running down the length of my arms, the collar of my shirt choking me. How am I going to get through this meeting without embarrassing myself?

We reach the kitchen and Jane spreads out the contents of her folder on the island. When I take a spot on the opposite side of the barrier, she wrinkles her nose at me but doesn’t comment. Within seconds, I wish I was closer, too. Wish I was close enough to smell her, see her pretty smile up close. Feel the warmth of her skin. I still remember the pleasure of being heated by her body when she got close to me yesterday.

Crossing her legs.

Uncrossing them.

Letting me see her wet panties.

Does the idea of being with a rich man make her horny, even if he’s an unrepentant dork? Does that mean she’d like having sex with me, even if she’s just interested in the comforts and security that a man with money provides?

You’re not going to find out.

I clear my throat hard. “Would you like something to drink, Jane?”

“Yes, please,” she answers with one of those bright smiles. “Anything is fine. Seltzer, soda, water…”

“Lemon lime seltzer?”

“Perfect.”

I take the can from my fridge and pour it into a glass, sliding it across the island in her direction, rather than get too close. But when I do that, when I avoid going near her, I watch her smile dim and sadness dance through her brown eyes. Painful, burdensome sadness that doesn’t belong anywhere in the vicinity of this bubbly girl.

My heart jolts up into my mouth at the sight of it.

What was that?

Did I cause it?

“W-well…” she begins unevenly. “Have you given any more thought to what you would like to see at the Halloween party?”

I want to address the sadness, the desolation I glimpsed in her, but it’s gone now. Did I imagine it? “Uh…no. Not really. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she says, straightening her shoulders. “I have lots of ideas. Why don’t I rattle them off and you can give them a thumbs up or down?”

“I’m going to choose all the wrong things.”

“No, you won’t, silly,” she giggles, taking a sip of her seltzer. “You know your employees and their preferences way better than I do.”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s true,” I say, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I don’t really socialize with them outside of work. That would be…”

“Enjoying yourself?” she finishes, her expression momentarily serious. Searching. “And you don’t allow for that.”

“Right.”

She nods once, her throat shifting as she looks down at her paperwork. Somehow I’ve remembered this girl all wrong. Yesterday in my office, I could have sworn she was a flirt. The playful type. And she is. But there is obviously a lot more happening under the surface that I wasn’t aware of until now. If I look closely at the base of her neck, there is a little vein there and it is beating as fast as my own. Faster? Too fast to be healthy? Is she nervous about something? If so, her nerves are totally at odds with the smile on her face.

“Well, I was doing some research on your apps and you definitely skew toward more vintage designs. User-friendly and modern, but with a retro twist. The fonts and language you use are almost a little…ironic.”

Surprised by her astuteness and the amount of thought she’s put into this, I nod. “That’s right. My sister used to say I had a dad jokes personality. I guess it rubs off on my work.”

Another flash of something in her eyes, something like yearning, is blinked away in a matter of seconds. “R-right. So I was thinking, why not go with an old-fashioned, spooky carnival theme?” She pushes some papers around and I notice she’s not wearing any jewelry. No necklaces, rings or bracelets. The lack of baubles is at odds with the rest of her glitzy, feminine appearance. This girl holds a lot of contradictions, doesn’t she? An image of me draping a gold necklace around her throat has me swallowing hard. “We could hire fortune-tellers, bring in some games and high-ticket prizes. I could even hire some characters actors to play creepy carnival workers and ghosts. I have a few venues in mind that would work great, if you like this direction?”