Page 20 of Foreplay with the Boss

Now I was jealous of fabric and jewelry.

“Morning, Mr. Stone.” She dumped cream and sweetener into her coffee, lifted her mug, and started past me.

I wanted to reach out and catch her arm—hell, I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to push that skirt up and settle myself between her thighs. Both of those options weren’t actually options in front of Debra, as well as in the office in general.

But while my brain said let her by, my body said block her exit, and my brain definitely wasn’t in control today.

She glanced up, her wide eyes and innocent face making me want to defile her in new and inventive ways.

I couldn’t very well tell her that seeing her made me feel happy about something for the first time in days, and confessing that I missed her over the weekend was also out. “I need to talk to you about a few things I noticed in the reports. Let me just get settled in and?—”

“Don’t you have that appointment in fifteen minutes?” Damn. I forgot about that. My alert should’ve gone off.

Her gaze dropped to my shoulder, her expression carefully neutral. “I peeked at your calendar a few minutes ago, and you’re booked back-to-back today. I’ll do what I can to make sure you stay on schedule, and if you get behind, I’ll make small talk with your clients. As long as that’s okay with you.”

It should be. She could charm all of my clients, and then I would want to murder them all for looking at her. Totally cool. “Of course. When’s my last appointment?”

She kept on stubbornly avoiding eye-contact and I fucking hated it. It made me want to cup her chin and tip her face up to mine so I could peer into those hazel eyes until she gave me something more than this robotic version of her. “Five-thirty, I believe.” Debra extended a steaming mug toward me. “Wow. She already knows your schedule as well as I do. She’s right. It is five-thirty.”

“Schedule Katrina for my six-thirty slot, then.”

“Katrina better get out of the break room and get to work, then,” Kat said. Something was up, and it frustrated the hell out of me that I couldn’t pull her aside right now and ask her what it was.

But I got the message loud and clear, and let her by. She took the no-touching guideline to the extreme and practically hugged the other side of the doorway, leaving as much space as possible between us.

Yeah, there was no way I was going to be able to wait until six- thirty to pull her aside and find out what the hell was up with her today.

CHAPTER 12

Kat

Sure. Just avoid the guy whose office is mere feet from your desk. The guy who takes up every inch of space whenever he’s near. Great plan, Kat.

In my defense, I came up with it before I’d had caffeine. The blinds on his office window were up, and I tested the bounds of my chair and leaned back until it wobbled enough to give me heart palpitations.

Yes, the chair was the only thing giving me heart palpitations. Not the glimpse of Jameson in his office, every inch of him screaming power and control as he talked to his eleven-thirty appointment—the as common, and unremarkable as his name, Bob Smith.

Debra came wandering over with a brown bag. “Is he still in there? I’ve got Jameson’s lunch from the deli. When he’s done, will you give it to him?”

“Um, actually, I’m going to sneak out to lunch real fast, while he has a break in clients and no one needs entertaining.” I knew I was being ridiculous. I couldn’t avoid him forever—we had a six- thirty meeting, after all. But I couldn’t go in and talk and pretend that I didn’t feel all mixed up about everything Jameson Stone.

Knowing he was on a dinner date on Friday night with someone named Vivienne ate at me, a scab I couldn’t stop picking.

I was sure they’d shared more than dinner together, and I experienced overwhelming amounts of jealousy and bitterness toward a woman I’d never meant. Which made no sense, because I had no claim on him. I’d told him that I couldn’t be a hookup girl without getting too attached, but there’d been no hooking up, and yet here I was, experiencing a mix of attached and pissed that he’d gone out to dinner with another woman.

I saw Bob Smith shift forward in his seat, and that was my cue to get the hell out of here. I turned to grab my purse, and when I straightened, my gaze met Jameson’s for one, electrifying second.

“See you after lunch,” I said to Debra, panic pitching my voice higher than usual. I strode across the office, head down, and when I heard people coming, I pushed the elevator’s down button repeatedly, as if that’d make it come fast enough for me to climb on and get away before they reached me.

Where’re the stairs?

Really, Kat? You’re going to huff it down twenty-five flights of stairs in five-inch stilettos and a binding skirt that doesn’t leave much wiggle room? I’d return drenched in sweat, but bonus, my workout for the day would be done.

Unless I fell halfway through my descent and ended up bloody and with broken limbs. Yeah. That’d be my luck.

Of course the elevator arrived at the same time Bob Smith and Jameson did. I assumed that Jameson would simply tell Bob goodbye and go back to his office.

Instead, he climbed on the elevator with us.

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