Page 20 of Like a Boss

I wave her goodbye and use my butt to open the door, as I have a coffee tray in one hand and my briefcase in the other.

“Well, that’s one way to open a door.”

I shriek, almost dropping my loot. “Jesus Christ! You need to wear a bell around your neck,” I exclaim, entering the office foyer and ignoring the eagle eyes of my boss. He looks exceptional in a navy pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt, and, gasp… a blood-red tie.

“Are you suggesting I’m to wear a collar, Ms. Young?”

Shrugging, I hope I appear unaffected. “Sure, if that’s your thing.” I brush past him as he leans against my desk, watching my every move.

Willing my shaky fingers to stop betraying my nerves, I go about setting up, pretending he’s not there. “Oh, here you go. Here is your tall blonde roast, no milk.”

“Thank you.” He accepts the coffee appreciatively.

However, that appreciation soon turns to annoyance when I see him lift up the cup to read the name scribbled on the front. In big red letters, the name ‘Jackass’ can be clearly seen.

He peers over at me, cocking a brow.

“Oh.” I fake innocence, barely biting back my smile. “They must have misheard me.”

He doesn’t believe a word. “Indeed.” He continues standing and staring at me while I fluff around my desk, unsure why he’s still here.

His cologne is doing things to my hormones, and I swallow. “Is there anything else?” I ask, using my notepad as a barricade between us, as he’s making it more than obvious he’s currently undressing me with those striking eyes.

He cocks his head to the side. “Yes, there is. Follow me.” He turns on his heel and walks into his office, leaving the door open.

Into the lion’s den, I go once again.

“Shut the door,” he commands when I enter. He is leaning against the edge of his desk, arms and ankles folded. He is a picture of perfection, but underneath that perfection, I can sense things are about to get messy.

I do as he asks and wait for him to speak.

“How do you like your job?” he randomly queries.

“I—” My voice gets caught in my throat. I clear my throat twice before answering. “I find it challenging, but I enjoy a challenge.”

He raises a brow. “How is it challenging?”

Trying not to scoff at such a ridiculous question, I put on my best professional face. “Well, look around,” I say, sweeping my hand to his office. “You like control. You demand perfection. I just hope I can deliver because I really want this job.”

He nods and pushes off the desk. “Do I make you nervous, Ms. Young?” he asks as I clutch my hands behind my back.

I lie. “No, sir.”

“How do I make you feel then?” He takes a step closer while I force myself to stand my ground.

I don’t know in what aspect he’s asking, so I answer professionally. “You make me want to be the best that I can be. I want to please you.”

Those sensual lips tip into a knowing smile. “And you have.”

I gulp.

Taking another step closer, he stands self-assuredly as I squirm. I hate his confidence because it turns me on. I love to hate this arrogant beast in front of me.

“What do you think of my office?”

I know there is a reason for the twenty questions, so I play along. Looking around, the only words that come to mind are wearisome, colorless, and dull, but I shrug. “It’s… great.”

He laughs and I jolt, startled to hear the uncommon sound. “Great.Great is such a noncommittal word, Ms. Young. What is exactlygreatabout it?”

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