Page 1 of One Hot Moment

Chapter One

Spencer

I settle onto my new chair, which sits in my new office, and glance around furtively to make sure no one else can see me. The office door is shut. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind me are mirrored on the outside for privacy. I'm also on the seventh floor, so it's unlikely anyone will catch me in the act.

Ready. Set. Go.

I push my chair back, fold my knees up, and spin the chair around and around, over and over, while grinning and laughing like a moron. For the pièce de résistance, I fling my arms wide.

"Mr. Halfenaked? Are you okay?"

Oh, bloody hell. I've been caught bang to rights, though I doubt anyone would arrest me for this ridiculous crime. I slam my foot down on the floor, halting my chair, and face the woman who spoke to me. She's lovely. Her green eyes sparkle, and her pale red hair hangs down her back in a long braid. An image flashes in my mind of this woman straddling my lap while I tug that braid, exposing the sensual column of her throat.

"Mr. Halfenaked?"

I clear my throat and straighten my tie. "Yes, that's me. But I would prefer it if you called me Spencer."

"All right." She settles her lovely arse onto one of two chairs that sit opposite my desk. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Tabitha Remington, your corporate administrative assistant."

Should I reach across the desk to shake hands with her? I've no idea. None of my previous jobs included an assistant, not even a secretary. When I finally got the promotion I'd been hoping for, it came with one large string. I had to move to America.

Well, this country is looking bloody fantastic to me right now. Or rather, the redhead smiling at me does.

I adjust my tie, though it doesn't need adjusting. "No one told me I would have an assistant."

"You are the chief financial risk analyst at Bramson Feigenbaum Investments, one of the largest companies of its kind in the US."

"I see your point. Sorry. I've never been important enough to rate an assistant, so it might take me a while to get used to the idea."

"Sure, I get it." She smiles brightly. "I'm here to help you in any way I can and provide whatever you might need."

My cock has loads of ideas about what I might need this woman to do for me. But I tell it to bugger off. "Did you say your name is Tabitha Remington? That's quite unusual. But as a man with the most ridiculous surname in history, I won't hold your name against you. I like Tabitha. It's rather sweet."

"Thank you. Did I pronounce your name correctly?"

"Yes, unfortunately you did. It's just like it looks. Half-naked. But I promise I will never be half-naked in your presence."

She laughs again. "I think you and I will get along swimmingly."

"I don't know how to swim."

"Don't worry. I can give you lessons."

Now I'm picturing Tabitha in a bikini, helping me master the breaststroke. Bollocks. I shouldn't have imagined that. Never in my life have I behaved like a randy schoolboy, not even when I was one. Maybe it's just been too bloody long since I had a good shag. All work and no play makes Mr. Halfenaked want to become Mr. Allnaked.

I set my elbows on my desk and tap my fingers on the desk calendar. "So, how do we begin? I've never been in charge of an entire department before, and I will need shedloads of help from my assistant."

"Don't worry. I can handle your needs." She points at my computer. "We can begin by going over the new system. It's different from the one you used back in London."

"Of course it is. Having the same system for every office around the world would be too convenient."

"Well, the tech folks have to justify their high salaries somehow."

I grin at her. "I like you, Tabitha. You're straightforward, unlike most of the people I've worked with."

"Thank you, Spencer. I like you too. You're funny and sweet."

Well, if she likes my humor... "Your last name is Remington. Is that like the American artist? Or like the guns?"

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