Page 42 of Without Apology

I rewarded him with a smile for his effort in steering away from work. “Good. I was in my PJs and did nothing.”

His confusion almost made me burst out laughing. Clearly, he wasn’t one to lounge around in his PJs on a weekend. “What does doing nothing entail?”

“Sleeping in, binge watching episodes of Big Bang Theory and Shark Tank. Eating cereal for dinner, then reading a good book before bed.”

His forehead furrowed. Then he surprised me. “What kind of cereal are we talking?”

“Frosted Flakes.”

“Chocolate or white milk?”

“White, but the chocolate milk sounds amazing.”

“It is. I heard they were planning to make chocolate Frosted Flakes.”

“Shut the front door. When?”

Now he was fully laughing at me. It reminded me of the carefree version of Simon I’d met at the grocery store. “You’re adorable. And I don’t know. Emma told me the news since she ensures I stay supplied in chocolate milk and Frosted Flakes when I travel.”

I loved learning this unexpected tidbit about him. “Your guilty pleasure?”

He leaned over, reaching out with his thumb to swipe the side of my mouth and causing my breath to catch. “You could say that. You had some sauce there.”

My eyes widened as he then sucked his thumb in between his lips. Good Lord. If this man could get this much of a reaction from me with such a simple gesture, how would he be in bed?

Nope. Nope. Not going there. But, oh, how I wanted to. With a yearning which took me off guard. He did this to me. Whether it was because we were denying ourselves or not, I couldn’t refute the instant connection I had with him. The craving to find out more about what made the man tick.

I cleared my voice, trying to find casual words. “Guess I should buy some chocolate milk.”

“Definitely. Tell me something. Are you a drink-the-milk-after-eating-the-cereal kind of girl, or do you pour it out?”

Why was my face heating? Maybe because it felt like a metaphor for a blow job. Desperately trying to crawl out of the gutter my mind was in, I finally answered. “Depends on how good the cereal is. If it’s Frosted Flakes, then definitely. Corn Flakes, probably not.”

He smirked as if he could read my dirty mind. “Makes sense. You want another beer? You just drained yours.”

I looked at the empty glass, hardly believing I’d chugged a whole beer within the last minute. “No, thanks. You want seconds?”

He patted his stomach, making me wonder what he had under his suit.

“No. I’m full. Thank you for dinner. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.”

“You’re welcome.”

He polished off his garlic bread before dabbing his lips with the napkin. “Now that my garlic bread is safe and—hold up—” He finished off his glass before continuing. “My beer is, too, can we talk about work for a moment?”

I sighed but figured he’d held up his end by leaving the job alone while we ate. I busied myself by moving to the other side of the kitchen island where I began putting away the leftovers. “What about it?”

“I’m no longer interviewing you or Jeff for the CFO position. I’m only doing the retainment interviews which, frankly, you most likely won’t need. Even if you don’t get the promotion to CFO, there’s not a chance in hell they wouldn’t want you to stay as the accounting director.”

That got my attention. I stopped what I was doing, my gaze meeting his. “Does it mean Tom will be conducting my interview instead?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance. It’ll be the board who interviews all of the CFO candidates.”

“What board?”

“My boss has a board of directors as part of his investment company. Four of them have agreed to conduct the interviews.”

“How did you do that?”

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