He leaned back in his chair and the studious look got even more . . . studious.
“Such a shame.” Lucas shook his head slowly back and forth, as if he was lamenting a great loss. “Well, if that’s how you want it, there’s nothing I can do to stop you. I’ll just take myself back to my desk.” He stood, but instead of moving toward the door, he came around the desk.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going back to my desk,” he said, as if I’d asked an insane question. I turned in my chair and he was leaning over me, both hands on the armrests of my chair. Seriously, what was happening?
“This isn’t your desk,” I said, stating the obvious.
“Oh, it’s not? I could have sworn my desk was around here somewhere. Perhaps you could . . . help me look for it?” He leaned closer and a smile danced across his lips.
“Mr. Blaine, stop. You are doing exactly what I just told you not to do. Anyone could walk in. And it’s wrong. So—“ I was cut off by his hand racing up my leg.
“Is this my desk? Is it here? Or maybe it’s further up?” His hand goes higher and I grab his wrist to stop it from going under my dress. Maybe I should start wearing pants. Then he wouldn’t have such easy access. That chastity belt would also be a good idea right about now.
“Stop.”
He stared into me with those eyes and it was like he could see into every corner of me, to see the things I kept hidden, the things I didn’t talk about, the things I wanted to forget. And then he pulled his hand back and stood up.
“I believe my desk is across the hall and I think I can find it on my own. I’ll send up a flare if I get lost.” Before I could respond, he was out the door and shutting it behind him.
It was time to take more drastic action.
“Sign this,” I said a half hour later as I slammed a few sheets of paper down on Mr. Blaine’s desk. He looked up in amused bewilderment.
Damn. Even that was sexy. Picture the belly. Gross beer belly with a crooked penis and saggy ballsack hanging . . .
Nope, still sexy.
“To what do I owe the honor of you bringing this to my desk and delivering it personally?” He kept his voice low as one of the other executives walked by for a cup of coffee from the break room.
“Read it. Sign it. Don’t speak of it again.” This time I was going to have the last word, so I stomped back to my office and purposefully left the door open to show him that I could do this. I could work in his vicinity without exploding into a lusty ball of . . . lust.
I went to my desk and got back to my real job even though I could feel it whenever he glanced at me. I did NOT look at him. Not once. Because I was a goddamn professional.
But then I had to look up when a paper airplane sailed through the air and landed perfectly on my desk. I snatched it and shot a glare in his direction but he was pretending he was busy with something.
I unfolded the paper, which turned out to be the Code of Conduct that I’d written earlier.
It was pretty lengthy, and added to my verbal list from earlier, greater defined what was off limits. He’d signed it, but folding it up into an airplane kind of defeated the purpose of that.
I slid the paper back and forth on the edge of the desk to smooth out the creases and then took it and held it up for him to see while tore it in half and then tore it in smaller pieces and then shoved it in my paper shredder, hoping the sound carried to his desk. Then I pretended to dust my hands off and went to get some coffee, my chin in the air.
“You didn’t think you were going to get off that easy, did you?” He was close, but not too close. Still, my skin shivered in response to his voice. Like I was a robot programmed to react to him. How had that happened so fast? The sex probably had a little something to do with it.
I turned slowly, holding my coffee in front of me as if it could protect me. As a last resort, I could always throw it in his face, but that would probably result in a lawsuit.
“Look. This,” I motion between us with the hand not holding the handle of the coffee cup, “can’t happen. Period. It’s best for both of us to just pretend nothing happened and move on. So, how are you coming with organizing those reports?”
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.
“I’m having a little trouble with some because they’ve been updated and I don’t have access to the folders where they’re stored.”
See? We could do this. We were talking about reports and I didn’t want to rip his pants off and mount him at all.
Well, maybe just a little. Or a little-lot.
“Hm, let me see what I can do about that. You’re still technically in training until your three week review and then you can ask for additional access, but maybe I can fast track that. I’ll talk with Mr. Clarke and see what I can do.” I always called my father Mr. Clarke in front of other people. I’d been doing it for so long that I was used to it.
“Thank you, Miss Clarke, that would be fantastic.” He sounded completely unenthused.
“Good. I’ll get right on that for you, Mr. Blaine. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped around me and went for the Keurig without another word. Ugh. I wanted to smack him in the back of the head, but that wouldn’t be very professional, so I went back to my office and dialed my father’s extension.
“Hey sweetheart, how are you?” I will always be my father’s little girl.
“Hi Dad, I’m good. I’m actually calling you on official work business.”
I proceeded to tell him about the issue with Mr. Blaine’s access issue.
“Hmm, I’m not sure what I can do to speed that along. The auditors would have my hide if we didn’t follow our written procedure. Let me speak with Laurie and I’ll get back to you.” Laurie was basically the Chief Rule Follower and it was her job to make sure we all followed the bazillion rules that we had to follow to stay in business and not piss off the government.
“Okay, great.” Despite working just down the hall from one another, we sometimes went an entire day without seeing each other.
“So how is your new sidekick working out? It must be weird having someone other than Sal at that desk. I know it’s strange for me.”
Oh, Dad. If you only knew.
“He’s been great so far. Quick learner and he finishes everything before I even know I want it.” Mind out of the gutter, mind out of the gutter . . .
“I’ve been meaning to have a chat with him myself, but I just haven’t gotten around to it. Why don’t you send him down this afternoon?”