Page 12 of Starting Over with Her Billionaire Boss

“Maybe you're not as intimidating as you think,” she replied, immediately wondering if she'd been too bold.

But Mr. Westerhouse just laughed, a rich sound that made her stomach flip. “Maybe you're braver than you think.” For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself, expression shifting to something more guarded. His eyes flicked to her hands as she adjusted his jacket, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before he turned back to grab his coffee.

When her latte was ready a minute later, Mr. Westerhouse grabbed it. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, and a warm spark ignited beneath her skin, surprising and exhilarating.

The walk back to the office seemed shorter than the walk there, filled with comfortable silence and sideways glances. At the building entrance, Kinsley began to shrug off his jacket.

“Keep it for now,” he said. “You can return it later.”

As they walked through the reception area, Kinsley caught Laurel’s raised eyebrows. Laurel's gaze shifted from Kinsley's borrowed jacket to their boss's relaxed demeanor. As they passed her desk, Laurel picked up her phone, quickly dialing a number. The unspoken question in her gaze made Kinsley’s stomach twist. Office gossip wasn’t just inevitable—it was dangerous. She couldn’t afford to give them anything to whisper about.

As they rode the elevator back up, Kinsley caught their reflections in the mirrored walls—her in his too-big jacket, him with his shirtsleeves rolled up despite the chill, both holding coffee cups. They looked right together—almost too right. The thought terrified her; things could never be that simple. The closer they got, the messier it would inevitably become.

Back in his office, Kinsley handed him the files she'd quickly organized while he hung up his phone. Their fingers brushed, and that same electric current she'd felt on the first day surged through her.

“Thank you, Kinsley,” Mr. Westerhouse said softly, his eyes holding hers for a moment longer than necessary.

“For doing my job?” she laughed.

He smiled. “For doing your job well. Now, let's see what we can get done before the day ends.”

As she returned to her desk, wrapped in his suit jacket, Kinsley realized she was in dangerous territory. This man was her boss; she needed to maintain professional boundaries. This job was her chance to rebuild her life, to fund her dreams. But every moment with Mr. Westerhouse pulled her closer to a line Kinsley wasn’t sure she could walk back from.

One coffee run wouldn’t change anything. But as she draped his jacket over her chair, the lingering warmth and scent told a different story—one she wasn’t sure she could ignore. As she settled back into her chair, she realized this wasn’t just about her and Mr. Westerhouse. Others were watching, and she couldn’t afford to give them anything to talk about.

When Daegan returnedfrom lunch a few hours later, his suit jacket was neatly draped over his chair. On his desk beside it were the files he had requested earlier, along with a handwritten note on company stationery. It read: “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll be back from lunch at 1.” Kinsley’s signature was at the bottom.

He picked up the jacket, and the faint scent of her sweet perfume caught him off guard. It lingered on the fabric, a reminder of how the oversized garment had made her seemsmaller and somehow even more alluring. He found himself holding it longer than necessary, breathing in that subtle fragrance before he draped it back on his chair.

He didn’t know what had come over him earlier. It had felt natural. Innocent, even. Yet it was dangerously close to crossing a line. This wasn't like him—losing focus over an employee. Especially not over an assistant he barely knew.

But even as Daegan tried to focus on the files at his desk, his mind kept drifting back to their coffee run. The way she'd raised her eyebrow at him, challenging his authority with a playfulness that made him want to earn more of it. The slight flush in her cheeks when he'd insisted on paying. The way she'd unconsciously leaned closer to him in line, as if drawn by a magnetic pull.

A knock at his door broke through his thoughts. Kinsley stood in the doorway, a package in her arms. Her hair was slightly tousled from the summer breeze, and that candy-sweet scent drifted toward him again.

“Welcome back,” Daegan said, hoping his voice didn't betray how much time he'd spent thinking about her.

“Miss me?” she grinned, her eyes sparkling as if daring him to admit it as she walked toward his desk.

Daegan couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. “The office was certainly quieter,” he teased, though the truth was he'd felt her absence like a physical thing.Even though I shouldn’t.He loosened his tie slightly, the office suddenly feeling warmer. His pulse quickened whenever she was near—a reaction he hadn't experienced in years.

“Quieter isn't always better.” Their hands brushed as she set the package down, a brief, electric moment that neither acknowledged but both seemed to feel.

Daegan opened it to find a few pairs of socks sent from Aunt Tilly.

“Socks?” Kinsley asked, eyebrow raised. “I thought CEOs only received fancy pens or new gadgets, not cozy footwear from their aunts.”

“I have a tendency to mismatch socks. I usually keep a few extra pairs in this drawer, just in case,” he said, opening it to deposit them before swiftly shutting it again. He’d never told anyone that.

“So you asked your aunt to send you socks?” she laughed.

“No,” Daegan grinned, “she just knows.”

Kinsley looked confused for only a moment, before her eyes locked onto his suit jacket behind him. “Thanks again for earlier. Though I think you might have started something dangerous—that coffee shop’s iced vanilla lattes are addictive.”

“Sounds like I'll have an excuse to take more coffee breaks then,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. The implication lingered in the air.

Their eyes met, and for a moment anything seemed possible. Kinsley's lips parted slightly as if she might say something, but then she seemed to think better of it.

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