Page 8 of Beauty and the Bosshole

“We’re leaving first thing in the morning,” he corrects me, and my heart drops. Oh, no way. There’s no way I want to go out of town with my yummy, grouchy boss. It’s a recipe for disaster. “I need you to come to Las Vegas with me. We shouldn’t be gone more than two days.”

“Uh…” I’m thinking fast. “I can’t leave my cat alone that long.” That’s one lame ass excuse, but it’s all I could come up with last minute.

“We’ll only be gone a few days. Surely, you can find someone to check on your cat.” He’s right, my neighbor will gladly take care of Max for me if I ask.

“Why do you need me to come?” I need to know more about this trip so I can find a way to avoid going out of town with my smoking hot boss. Talk about a recipe for disaster.

Chapter Three

Reese

Cumulatively speaking, I don’t know Ava all that well. In fact, in the roughly ninety-six hours that she’s worked for me, I’ve come to realize precisely three things about her. First, she makes a damn fine cup of coffee. Second, her repressed librarian look is sexy as fuck. And third, she’s not afraid of anything.

After this morning, I have to amend that last one. She’s not afraid of anything, except flying.

“What do you mean you’ve never been on a plane?” I ask.

She glares at me. “I’m not speaking in code, Reese. I have never flown anywhere,” she repeats, exaggerating each word ofthe sentence. “I’ve lived in Porter my entire life and so far have never needed to fly anywhere. Cars are perfectly adequate.”

“We arenotdriving to Vegas. That would take two days. You should be excited to fly in the company jet instead of coach.”

She points over my shoulder. “That is not a full-grown plane. That is, at most, a toddler plane. Where is its mama?”

I swallow a chuckle. “Cessnas are widely used and safe. And I am an excellent pilot.”

Her hands fly up to her throat and she starts shaking her head. “No, absolutely not. You know that’s the kiss of death. Eccentric billionaires who fly their own tiny planes are notorious for crashing and dying in said planes.”

“I don’t think that’s a statistic. Also, I was kidding about being the pilot. I have too much work to do during flights to waste my time in the cockpit.” I nod behind her. “There’s our pilot.”

“Morning, Mr. Donovan. Got her all gassed up and ready to go,” Andrew says as he walks over to us.

“Did you have to get a note to miss gym class to make this flight?” Ava asks.

“Ms. Matthews, this is Andrew, our pilot. Andrew, this is my new assistant, Ava Matthews. I don’t suspect she thinks you’re old enough to fly this plane.”

“Is he even old enough to gamble in the casinos?” she asks.

Andrew laughs but doesn’t answer her.

“Are you old enough?” I ask her.

She rolls her pretty blue eyes.

“I can assure you, Ms. Matthews, I’m old enough.” Andrew pats the side of the plane. “The excuse was for Biology class, not gym,” he says with a wink.

I reach up and cup the back of Ava’s neck, giving her a gentle squeeze. I don’t question the movement or touching my assistant so intimately. In that moment, all I can think about issoothing her worries. “He’s a married father of two. He’s like Paul Rudd; he just doesn’t age.”

“Big Ant-Man fan, are you?” she asks, slipping out of my reach.

“He was awarded Sexiest Man Alive a few years ago. It’s my job as the CEO of Aurora to keep my finger on the pulse of what the general public finds sexy,” I say.

A laugh bubbles out of her, and it feels like I just got hit with a defibrillator. “That sounds ridiculous enough to be true.”

“Come on, let’s board. I need to get this meeting over with before I just hire a hitman to take Leon out.”

I let her pick her seat and then, for reasons I do not wish to analyze, I sit right next to her.

Her eyes narrow and she leans over close to me. “Do you really know any hitmen?”

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