Page 14 of Foreplay with the Boss

I tensed, offense winding through me and replacing the momentary skip of my heart over the thought of having lunch with him. There was learning, but being his glorified secretary with my degree and my experience ate at me, even as I told myself that I shouldn’t be above fetching coffee.

I might not be above “accidentally” dumping it on his lap, though.

“Relax, I’m not asking you to get me coffee,” he said, way too much amusement in the curve of his mouth. “I was only informing you of our lunch plans on my way to get it myself. If I don’t move around a little at work, I’ll end up with a trucker gut.”

My gaze dipped to his taught abdomen, the peek of his crisp white shirt making it clear he didn’t have a gut. “If you get that body from long walks to get coffee, I’m going to have to try it out. I’ve been attempting to jog a couple of miles every night, and all it’s doing is making me crave more dessert, which I then eat, because dessert is delicious, so that pretty much sabotages the losing weight part.”

When I realized I was still staring—and possibly drooling—over his far-too-covered abs, I glanced up. His eyebrows were drawn low.

“What?”

“I…” He closed his mouth.

“Who’s starting sentences without finishing them now?” I teased.

He straightened and shook his head, and I wondered if I’d managed to upset him again.

“Sorry, was that disrespectful?” I whispered, glancing around, but I didn’t see anyone within hearing range, which I thought meant joking was okay. “I know we have guidelines. Which might also mean that lunch isn’t a good idea.”

“The joke was fine. It’s what I want to say about your body that’d be crossing lines.” He smoothed a hand down his black silk tie. “As for the lunch, it’s a business meeting with a prospective client, and I think it would be beneficial for you to be there.”

In other words, he thought I needed to learn about how to conduct meetings with prospective clients. I might not be the best at being a stern, authoritarian boss, but landing clients was like shooting fish in a barrel.

What’s that saying all about? It seems like it would be kind of hard shooting fish in a barrel. Or does it mean that they’re all squirming around and squished in there, so you hit a lot of them?

“Katrina?”

Oops. Important barrel-fish-thoughts needed to wait for later. “Lunch. Of course. What time?”

“The reservation is at one, so we’ll need to leave at ten till.” He glanced down at my super-tall footwear—I’d worn strappy purple heels today. “Better make it twenty till. Unless you need me to call for a car?”

“I can walk,” I said, hoping it was true since he hadn’t told me how far away the restaurant was. “I’ll be ready then.”

He gave a nod and then he walked toward the break room, where the coffee pot would be. And I tried not to wonder what he’d wanted to say about my body.

And failed.

Maybe he was going to give me some workout tips. Or tell me that I should skip dessert now and then…

My stomach dropped and my lungs felt too tight.

With my thoughts on all my body’s flaws, that lingerie idea was definitely out, so it was a good thing that it was just a joke. One he’d seemed to find as hot as it was funny, but I was probably deluding myself again.

There was a big difference between being okay with fucking a girl and loving every inch of her body. A couple of my boyfriends had proved that much. It was another reason I almost felt guilty for asking for what I wanted—I knew I wasn’t a ten on the scale, but they weren’t, either.

Part of me thought if I got more in shape and worked on fixing myself up, then it’d be easier to find someone who’d be willing to experiment with me. Easier to say that I’d like to do stuff that was more acrobatic and less lying there.

That’s it. I’m having a salad for lunch, and when I get home, no matter how late it is, or how tired I am, I’m going to jog for at least three miles.

CHAPTER 9

Jameson

I rose to my feet once Randall Walker approached the table Kat and I had just settled into. I’d wanted a couple of extra minutes with her, but it was probably better that I didn’t take it.

I’d barely resisted the urge to put my hand on her back the entire walk here.

I shook his hand and then made introductions. “Katrina, this is Randall Walker, owner of Walker Hospitality. Randall, Katrina Taylor. She’s working with me in my office right now and helping me up my marketing game.”

---