Page 41 of Start Your Engines

Shit. I’ve never apologised.

“I’m apologising now. I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, and I want to say thank you for caring for Senna like you do and making sure she eats breakfast and lunch. Has she been receiving the dinners I’ve sent to her office in the evenings?”

“Yeah. I’ve worked late a few nights, and they arrived while I was leaving. She paces when they’re due and then beams and eats everything immediately. I’ve told her it’s not me, but she thanked me anyway.”

The corner of my mouth turns up. “Let’s keep it our secret.”

Jimmy nods. He cocks his head. “Where’s the real Connor Dane, and what did you do with him?”

I twist my mouth to the side. I am different, but I can’t tell him why.

“Antoine left after she shouted at him for fifteen minutes. He threw a tantrum and kicked over a potted plant. Senna helped me tidy up.”

My chuckle causes a wry smile from Jimmy. “A potted plant? He’s so badass.”

Jimmy laughs. “It was hilarious. The first time, he missed and nearly fell over. Then he threw his designer jacket across the room?—”

Senna opens her door and glares at Jimmy. “Get in here now, Dane. And, Jimmy, what have I told you about discussing my business?”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Senna, he?—”

I stop as soon as I see her outfit. The cream dress is tailored to her curves. The material stretches over her hips. I want to spend time with those curvaceous hips. The dress dips slightly in a V-neck, and there is a belt around her waist that I want to grab and drag her closer to me. Her heels are the turquoise of the team’s colours.

I turn back to Jimmy to compose myself and to remind my cock not to get the wrong idea. “Take care, Jimmy.” My mouth is so dry it sounds like I’ve just woken up.

“Hurry up, Dane.”

As I stride into her office, my stomach churns again. I take a breath as I face the door. I must remain professional even if I’m torn between bending her over her desk and pushing that dress up or finding Antoine and beating him with a plant pot.

I pull on the back of my neck and flip my cap backwards, remembering I’m here to protect her. Niki would kill me if he knew what I was thinking about her and that damn desk.

“Connor?” Her voice is a little softer.

She used my first name. She hasn’t used it like that since I was eighteen.

I sigh and turn, holding my hands up in surrender. “Before you fire me, I want to say?—”

“I’m not firing you.” Her blank tone and wide eyes confuse me.

“Did you fire Antoine?”

She perches on the edge of her desk. I get a flash of getting on my knees and pushing up the hem of her dress. I should stop sleeping with the soft toy that smells of her. My dreams are like pornos.

“I’m not firing anyone yet, and my conversation with Antoine isn’t your concern.”

I scratch my chin. Material rustles. My eyes flicker to the corner of the room, where a stranger tracks my movements. I was too distracted to see him before. He better not be who she dressed up for today.

“Who are you?” I say frostily. He doesn’t respond, and the churning in my stomach turns so fiery I tighten my stomach muscles. I flip my attention back to Senna. “Who is he, and why is he staring at me like that?”

Please don’t say another friend with benefits. I don’t want to meet another one.

I peg him as late thirties. He’s got a young George Clooney thing going on—all piercing dark eyes, chiselled jaw, and casual stance. The stranger is another guy with noticeable gym-built muscles.

I bristle and then internally shout at myself for bristling.

“He’s here to help you.”

“What?” I push up my sleeves, and Senna tracks the move. I grit my teeth. I’m seeing what I want to see. “What do I need help for? My only problem is my sex drought, and he’s not my type.”

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