Page 12 of Foreplay with the Boss

“I didn’t finish explaining how you’re right, but also wrong.”

She readjusted the files when they started to slip. “I made a goal to be better at taking your constructive criticism, so I’ll do my best to stand here and nod and agree.”

I clenched my jaw, the humor leaking out of me. “That’s not what I want.” I set my laptop bag on my desk. “You were right when you said that if you’re afraid I’ll snap at you, you might be too afraid to speak your mind. And maybe I don’t dish out compliments to my team as much as I should…”

She only arched an eyebrow, but I could tell she had a lot of thoughts on the subject.

“But if I’m too soft, nothing gets done. Isn’t that the problem you’ve run into? Isn’t that why you’re here working with me instead of running things in Hartford?”

She pressed her lips together, but I wasn’t going to let her get away with not verbalizing her answer, so I kept on staring until she got nice and uncomfortable with the silence. “Yes. It has been a problem for me—I already admitted as much.”

“I also can’t let people disrespect me in front of my employees, even if it’s supposed to be funny—even if it was kind of funny.” Admittedly, when I’d thought about her “That’s not really faith” comment last night, I’d accidentally smiled. I might be biased, though. If Rob or anyone else in that room had given me the same answer, I doubt I ever would’ve found it amusing. Not that most of them were that sharp-witted, although given enough time, they could come up with witty slogans and ads. “We need to figure out some guidelines and social cues. We need…something, anyway.”

“I trip over guidelines, and social cues have never been my strong point, but I can something pretty damn well.”

I didn’t bother to hold back my smile. “I guess we’ll start there, then.”

She leaned her hip on the corner of my desk. “I thought about it last night, too, and it’s possible that I am too used to being the boss, and I don’t exactly like that I’m not anymore. Like I said, I’m trying to be better about accepting that I do have a lot to learn, and guidelines are probably a good way, especially considering how we met. I think it’s the only way we’ll survive working together without killing each other.”

Or tearing off each other’s clothes. “I agree. See? We’re already starting off better than yesterday.”

“It’s kind of like being proud of beating a kid to the ice cream truck, but yeah. Better than yesterday.” She shook the hair that’d fallen into her eyes off her face, but it just fell right back down.

Without thinking, I reached up and brushed it behind her ear.

Her mouth dropped and the shallow breath she let out skated across my wrist. Then I was cupping her cheek, marveling at her soft skin. She licked her lips. “We should probably have a no-touching guideline. Or like, just hand shaking.” She readjusted the files to one arm, took my hand from her face, and gave it one firm shake.

I folded her hand into mine, holding it instead of continuing the up and down motion. “Good idea.”

“Jameson.”

Did I say it turned me on when she called me Mr. Stone? Because it also turned me on when she said my first name. Hell, this woman just turned me on, period. I knew she had a valid point, so I slowly released my grip. “And in the conference room, you leave out the sarcasm, as well as the backpedaling. The acquiescing we’ll take one situation at a time.”

She leaned in conspiratorially. “But I can use the sarcasm here in your office when it’s just you and me? What about if I disagree with you? Can I tell you in private without you going all grumpy pants?”

“No promise on the grumpy part, but you can disagree with me, and I’ll do my best to listen to your wrongness.”

Fire flickered through her eyes.

This was the most fun I’d had in a long time, and I was about to lose control of my body again. “As for the sarcasm, I think I might miss it. I’m sure you won’t give me a chance to find out, though.”

“Not a chance.”

“Let’s start there, then. If we need more guidelines, we’ll add them.”

“Deal.” Her gaze dipped, running down my tie to the situation in my pants I was trying to control, and then she bit her fucking lip and the thread on my control frayed. “I guess I better, uh, get to these files.”

I nodded because I didn’t trust myself to say anything that wouldn’t be heavy with innuendo.

I watched her walk across my office, my erection straining against the zipper of my suit pants, which were as shit at concealing things as I was at tempering my reaction to my surprisingly-feisty assistant. When she reached the doorway, I said, “Kat?”

She glanced over her shoulder at me.

“Don’t you have any skirts that don’t show off your assets so nicely?”

Pink crept into her cheeks—the ones I could see, but for the record, I’d love to see if that blush traveled across her entire body. Even commenting on her skirt was probably sexual harassment territory, and something I should’ve held back, but as I mentioned, I wasn’t very good at it when it came to the woman standing across the office from me. “Is that a guideline, Mr. Stone? Longer, looser skirts?”

“Hell no.” I swallowed, hard. “And I better not say anything else because you’re of course free to wear whatever you want to the office.”

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