Page 18 of Foreplay with the Boss

He swept his arm, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

Probably so he can stare at my ass.

I shouldn’t enjoy knowing that he was such a fan, and I definitely shouldn’t walk with a little extra oomph in my step. As we neared my desk, I slowed my stride. I knew if I glanced his way, it’d make it harder to stay as strong as I needed to.

Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look at him…

“By the way,” he said, and then I couldn’t not look at him without seeming rude. “How’d you know the car analogy would work on Walker anyway?”

I liked that he didn’t ask why I thought it would work. I’d taken one look at Randall Walker and knew without a doubt that it would. He screamed the type who flaunted a masculine ego that didn’t quite match his actual masculinity. “Another case of trying too hard, and it actually annoys me a little when I think about why it works so well with guys like him.”

I could see the wheels in Jameson’s brain turning as he tried to come up with why himself. “He’s into status symbols? But I tried mentioning those before.”

“Sure, because that’s only half the equation. I didn’t just use a Cadillac, I compared it to a VW Beetle since people view it as a girly car. An Escalade on the other hand says something like, I might be missing my balls, but I have lots of money and can afford an expensive SUV with cushy leather seats that have the ability to heat your ass when it’s cold.”

He looked at me like I was a puzzle again, only this time, one that highly amused him.

I leaned in and whispered, “You don’t drive a Caddy, do you?” I knew he didn’t. Since men liked to do so much business during their games of golf and putting me on a course with a glorified stick involved an exposition of all the ways I could embarrass myself, my in with the “good old boys club” was cars. I’d peg Jameson Stone as someone who was more into sexy and fast, and the former bad boy edge meant he wouldn’t want anything that’s selling point was safety. Something like a Porsche 918 or the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren.

“No, I don’t drive a Caddy.” He leaned closer and kept his voice low. “I assure you I’m not missing my balls, either.”

“I’d say I need to check for myself, but after that moment walking to the office, I’m convinced.”

Jameson muttered a harsh curse and then straightened and raised his voice. “Before you leave for the night, I’d like to see an updated report with the new CTRs and STRs.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Stone.” There. Sticking to the guidelines.

Keeping things professional.

A muscle flexed in his jaw and his gaze turned heated. It made my self-control wilt, and now I was questioning my decision to not indulge in some temporary fun once again.

I wasn’t sure how many times I’d rethought everything since putting down our guidelines this morning, but it was a significant amount.

How was I ever going to survive another month of it?

CHAPTER 11

Jameson

Sitting across from Vivienne, I didn’t feel more than a general, mild attraction—certainly not the intoxicating, all-encompassing attraction that pumped through my body whenever Kat was around—and the thought of taking Vivienne home to relieve my sexual frustration no longer appealed to me.

In fact, I was pretty sure that was guilt pressing against my chest, which made no logical sense. Kat made it clear how she felt about crossing lines, and it boiled down to she wasn’t going to. I had a feeling that a few minutes alone, somewhere away from the office, and our off-the-charts chemistry would persuade her otherwise, but that added some messy ethical issues, and I wasn’t one to keep on pushing when a woman said no.

I thought about Kat’s face earlier today in my office when she was giving me a rundown of the weekly reports, the way it’d dropped when she looked at her phone. “Oh, that’s your calendar alert. For your dinner tonight.” Awkwardness crowded the space between us. “Did you, uh, need me to make reservations or anything?” She’d swiped a hand through the air like she wanted to shove that thought away. “I mean, it’s probably too late, and that’s not really what I do. Shit, I just added ‘I mean.’” She stood. “I’m going to go.”

“Kat,” I’d said, even though I didn’t know what I was going to say after that. When she’d looked at me, the only thing I could come up with was: “The way you compiled all the reports together makes it much easier to get a quick snapshot of everything, and the numbers on the ads you switched up are good. Better than good, actually. Best CTRs and STRs I’ve seen in a while. Admittedly, I was struggling to have faith without proof first…” I’d shot her a teasing smile, but she didn’t smile back. “But you certainly proved yourself, and any other changes you want to talk about, I have faith they’ll be good ones.”

“Thank you. Two whole goods—that’s high praise coming from you.” Before I could figure out if that was a slam or a compliment, she’d tucked her hair behind her ear and said, “So I guess if that’s it, I’ll see you on Monday.”

I didn’t want it to be it, and Monday suddenly seemed forever away—evidently I was losing my mind.

“JT?”

I jerked my attention to Vivienne. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She stuck her red lips out in a pout and patted my cheek. “That’s why you’d make a shit boyfriend. You never stop thinking about work.”

A statement I couldn’t usually deny, but as of late, a lot of my after-work hours had been spent on my sexy assistant as opposed to what she and I needed to accomplish at the office. I can think of about a dozen different positions we need to accomplish all over the office.

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