Page 2 of Tempting All The Way

“Hi, I’m Lucy, probably the only decent human being wearing this shitty brown uniform. Well, that is until you stepped in here. Now I’m assuming they’re two of us… in this shitty brown uniform.”

“Um, I’m Shardonnay, but you can call me Shar. And how do you know I’m decent?” I asked.

“I have a sixth sense about these things.” She smiled a huge, bright smile.

From that day on, we’ve been inseparable. I do owe her a lot, and although I don’t fully believe the crap she made up about having to take this job, I will try to fill it so she doesn’t have to—on the off chance she’s telling the truth.

I just have to figure out what I’m going to wear. She said it’s an office job. Crap, the jeans and shirts stacked up in my wardrobe are not going to cut it. Picking up my phone, I type out a text to Lucy.

Me:

What do I wear on Monday? I don’t have officey clothes. Maybe you should just do the job.

Her reply comes in a minute later.

LuLu:

I’ll come by Sunday. We’ll go out and have lunch and sort out your wardrobe.

Argh, I throw my phone down next to me. It’s Friday. I’m working a twelve-hour shift tomorrow at the grocery store. The last thing I want to do on Sunday is go shopping for clothes I can’t afford to buy. Which means I have twenty-four hours to either come down with a deadly, communicable disease or find a way to tell Lucy it’s a definite no-go.

Chapter Two

“How many does that make it so far this month, Alistair?” Nathan asks, smirking around a crystal glass filled with rich amber liquid.

“Ten, pay up.” Alistair holds his hand out, and I watch in mock horror as Nathan passes him a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.

“You two are not seriously betting on my secretaries?” I ask, pushing to my feet. I walk over to the wet bar in the corner of my office and refill my glass.

Screw them. They can get their own.

It’s Friday night and we have this one little drink to conclude the working-week ritual. After the shitshow that was today, it’s going to take more than one to unwind tonight. A lot more.

“Of course not. We’re betting on how manyyougo through in a one-month period,” Alistair says.

“I have not gone through ten secretaries,” I scoff. I haven’t—at least I don’t think I have.

“You have.” Nathan nods.

“Shit. It’s not my fault it’s so fucking hard to get good help these days.” I sigh, leaning back into my desk chair.

Nathan and Alistair, my so-called best mates and business partners, sit in the two black leather couches opposite me, separated by a solid white marble coffee table.

“I’ve had Terri for three years, not one single problem.” Nathan laughs.

“Tracey has been going strong for five,” Alistair adds.

“They’re also both old as fuck and not trying to hump your bones every chance they get,” I complain. “If I had a dollar for every time one of my new hires batted their lashes or unbuttoned their blouses that extra button, well, I’d be a rich fucking man.”

“You’re already a rich fucking man,” Alistair says. “You just need to hire a secretary who doesn’t want to fuck you. I’m sure, out of the millions of women in this country, there’s bound to be at least one who can resist the charms of Xavier Christianson.”

“There is actually. She’s starting on Monday.” I smile. I have the perfect little secretary—one who won’t bat a single eye in my direction.

“Who?” Nathan asks with a raised brow.

“My sister.” I widen my smirk.

Both men share a look before bursting out laughing. “You hired Lucy?” Nathan attempts to clarify.

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