The Boss Crush

She really doesn’t remember me. . .

“Dalia,” I say. “My name’s Dalia, and yes, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this job.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t have to worry about her bringing up all the shit from our past, and everything that has no place in my life now. We can just leave high school where it belongs, in the past.

Although as I’m standing here, staring into her stale pupils, listening to her snarl at me like I’m a maid and not the new employee of a high-end graphic design company, I’m not sure what’s scarier: being in her shadow now or being in her shadow back then.

Lyle’s watching, not saying a word, just lingering in the background, listening to his sister’s tirade. But that look, that look on his face is more than enough for me to know he doesn’t recognize me either.

He can’t, it’s not possible. The Lyle I remember would never look at me the way he is, not with this much lust, this much heat, this much desire.

Because this Lyle, the Lyle that I’m meeting here, is looking at me like hungry jaguar ready to pounce. His eyes rake my body, devouring every inch with greedy blinks.

Leaning against the wall, he tucks his arms under each other, and I’m floored by how strong he looks. The muscles under his sleeves threaten to bust free as they roll into solid mountains. The seams strain to stay connected, and the buttons bite into the fabric.

His eyes pierce me where I’m standing, squeezing around my lungs and making it hard to breathe. I’m trying, I’m trying so hard to not let my skin turn crimson. But Lyle Vox is a man who’s never made that easy.

And right now, there is no doubt in my mind that he has more than just thoughts about work going through his head.

Sandy takes a step toward the window, crossing her arms over her chest again. She lets her eyes drift to look out through the window as she keeps talking.

She hasn’t changed at all, that’s easy to see. Talking is something she’s always been good at. She always had a comeback for anything. I swear, she just likes to hear herself most of the time.

“If you want this job like you say you do, and you expect to go places here, I suggest you don’t start off by being late.” Scoffing, she looks down at the street. “If there’s one thing I find fucking rude and disrespectful, it’s an employee who thinks they can make their own schedule.”

I’m half listening to her, half watching Lyle from the corner of my eye. I feel like he’s undressing me with his eyes. They keep moving around my body. Over my face, down my chest and belly, then traveling back up.

Every sweep makes me excited, causing butterflies to explode and my nerves to jitter. I can’t focus on what she’s saying because I’m getting lost in the deep blue of his stare. The same blue that stopped my heart at seventeen years old is stopping it now.

Sandy turns in my direction quickly, causing me to stiffen nervously. She walks across the room, one hand on her hip, the other perched like a raptor.

Stopping a foot away from me, she tilts her head. “Don’t think I won’t fire your ass, remember that the next time you come through my doors half an hour late. I liked your résumé and your portfolio, but that doesn’t mean I need you. There are a million other people out there that can do what you do. It’s simple: you need me, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” Sticking her nose in the air, she brushes past me.

My eyes drop to the floor as she glares at me on her way by, and I’m trying not to make eye contact for fear she’ll turn around and snap at me. Her heels click as she walks out the door and disappears down the hall.

The air in the room is stifling hot, and I’m suddenly aware that Lyle is still here. He’s still standing in the same spot, his hands tucked into his pockets. He’s staring at me. . . Staring at me like I have something he wants.

Jesus, why is he staring at me like that?

Lyle takes a few slow steps in my direction, stopping at the edge of the desk. He drops to his haunches, picking up the pens on the floor, and putting them back. Keeping one, he rolls it between his fingers, and rests back against edge of the desk.

“So, tell me, why were you actually late today?” Arching a brow, his fingers keep spinning the pen around and around. “And be honest, let’s not make this worse with a lie.”

I’m mesmerized, suddenly oblivious of everything around me that isn’t him. He’s like a hypnotist, and his muscles are the secret words making me go numb. Everything I know is gone, blown away as if it never existed.