Page 28 of Obsession

Unlike me. Since I hadn’t straightened my hair today, I could feel it increasing in size exponentially each hour that passed. “Hi.”

“What are you doing, Ms. Copeland?”

“Working.” I twisted away and tapped on a few keys of my laptop set up beside me on the floor. “I just sent you the transcripts for your London and Paris calls. I’m working on the projections right now. Your spreadsheets are pretty genius, actually.” I looked up at him when he didn’t reply. “What?”

“You’re on the carpet.”

I glanced down at my skirt to make sure it covered my legs. “I am. I needed a break from the desk.”

“That chair is perfectly ergonomic. If you need additional supplies?—”

“I’m fine. I don’t care how ergonomic a chair is, seventeen hours requires a change of scenery.”

“Right.” The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed. “I didn’t see you at your desk. I thought you’d gone home.”

“Nope. I refuse to take work home. If I work late, it’ll be here.” I folded my knees to the side and tucked my long skirt over my gray knee socks.

“I’m sorry to keep you here so late. It won’t happen all the time.”

I grinned up at him. I had the strangest urge to get up into the chair behind me, but I didn’t want him to know just how uncomfortable I was. “But I’m sure it’ll happen often.”

“Being my assistant is…difficult.”

My lips twitched. “I’m just about done.”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to my feet then returning to my face.

I curled my toes and tugged my skirt down farther. “Did you need me to do something?”

“No. I’ll be ready to leave as well.”

“Good. I’ll just finish up then.”

“Right.” He turned on his heel, and I heard the soft hiss of his door close.

Yeah, this ridiculous effect he had on me had to end. I peeled off my cardigan and balled it up, pitching it into the chair behind me. I grabbed my water and finished it off.

Now I had to pee.

I pushed my hair out of my face and stood. Cripes. Why was it so hot in here?

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into my boots, but I left them unzipped, and clunked my way to the bathroom. The executive floor bathroom was unisex, but since there was only Jack, his still-honeymooning assistant, me, and Mr. Carson, I was the odd woman out for the most part. I backed into the swinging door as I twisted up my insane hair and tucked it into a messy bun with one of the half dozen rubber bands on my wrist.

Mr. Carson was leaning over the sink, water dripping from his bearded chin and nose. Our eyes met in the mirror.

“Sorry.” I dropped my arms and winced. My cute, smudgy eyes from this morning now looked more like a coed on a bender, and my hair was still wild, even in the bun. I laughed a little. “Too much water.”

He ripped off a towel from the dispenser and blotted his face. His cuffs were rolled back a little. Just a tease of skin. The sepia tones of the ink were unusual enough. Most people went with black ink, but his was definitely not.

He crumpled the towel and shook out his sleeves. Again, he hid the design.

I don’t know why it drove me crazy to know it was under there, but it did. “Is that a sleeve?”

Seventeen hours at the office meant I’d lost all control of my manners.

He paused in the buttoning. “Yes.” He smiled thinly and covered the tattoo completely. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Okay, so it really wasn’t cool to say “Hey, boss—can you roll your sleeves back?”, but dammit.

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