Page 73 of Desperate Measures

I wished Liam was as hung up on me as I was on him.

Shit.

I was spiraling. I needed to focus on the good. I liked my job. ODI was awesome and working side by side with my sexy as fuck husband was easy.

I mean, I hardly saw him lately. Liam was completely locked in, dealing with our partners overseas, and from the little I knew it was bad.

Yeah, sometimes I left before him, but more often than not I remained at ODI until he called it quits.

I had a lot of catching up to do myself, and I was still finding my way with my team. The task we were working on was testing to ensure the nano batteries themselves seamlessly integrated into computing systems and devices.

Designing power management systems that effectively interface with nano batteries was just as important as manufacturing the things themselves.

I was waiting in the lab for a last-minute test result with Clint McCombs, one of ODI’s original employees. I was still sorting through resumes to add to the team, but saw no reason to move anyone around just yet.

Clint was capable and intelligent, but he had a strange aura about him. Like he was always looking too long or hard, but I just wrote it off as a quirk. His peers seemed to get along with him just fine. But they were all men.

That was something else I was working on at ODI as far as the computer engineering team went. We needed more diversity. But of course, it was all about quality and capability with me.

I wanted the brightest and the best working for us. Everything else was second place. A shiver ran through me, and I cursed myself for the second time, wishing I’d brought my sweater.

Computer labs were always frigid for the health of the machines, but my tired ass forgot my cardigan upstairs and I was shivering as the system finished compiling the data.

“Cold? Here,” Clint grabbed his zippered hoodie off his chair and held it out to me.

“Oh, um,” I froze for a second, but the goosebumps on my arms in the ivory shell top I wore with brown pointe pants was not enough to ward off the chill.

“Here. Seriously, you’re making me cold watching you shiver,” Clint joked, and shook the sweatshirt.

I laughed and shook my head.

“No, really. I’m fine.”

“Don’t be silly.”

He stood up, draping it around my shoulders.

“Really, Clint, I appreciate it, but no thank you,” I said, and removed the sweatshirt, handing it back to him.

There was something about wearing another man’s clothing that just didn’t feel right.

“Suit yourself,” he replied and shrugged, refilling his coffee at the small station in the corner before circling back to his desk.

I crossed my arms and waited, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the bigger man. It wasn’t that he was being creepy, but he kept looking at me and I wondered if maybe I’d done something to give him the wrong impression.

“Done! Check this out,” he said, and I leaned over to read the results with him.

“Everything looks great,” I said, eyes on the screen.

I felt Clint’s attention on me and when I turned, his face was way too close. His eyes were on my mouth, and I backed up immediately.

“Clint, I think maybe you’ve gotten the wrong impression?—”

“You don’t have to play coy, Michaela. You know, ever since you came here people haven’t stopped talking. Like they can’t figure out why Mr. O’Doyle married you. But I see it.”

“Excuse me?” I scoffed, backing up farther.

“It’s the perfect merger. Volkov Industries and ODI! Plus, you’re brilliant and hot. We all know O’Doyle has a thing going with Chen, so I take it yours is an open marriage,” he said like it was nothing.

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