Page 10 of If You Could Only Believe
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you may ask why,” I retorted. “You’re Michael Buchanan.”
He cocked his head. “How did you know I’m not Gabriel?”
I wasn’t sure what my expression held, but I’m sure it was a because-I’m-not-an-idiot look. “Because the other Mr. Buchanans all have wives. They wouldn’t be here without them right before the party.”
“Fair point,” he conceded.
“Now can you please turn around?” I asked again. Well, more like pleaded.
“Why?” he asked even as he did what I asked and turned his back towards me.
I let out the deepest breath.Thank God!“Because I can’t focus when you’re looking at me,” I answered honestly. And stupidly, since I’m being so honest.
Michael barked out a laugh and I could see his shoulders shaking.“Excuse me?”
“Stop it,” I admonished, as if he wasn’t head of HR. “You have to know how good looking and imposing you are. You can’t honestly expect me to hold a conversation with you when you’re…you…your eyes are green and all that.” God, I sounded like such an idiot. I didn’t blame people for not wanting to be my friend. Hell, right now,Ididn’t want to be my friend.
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice low and thoughtful.
I ignored him. “Now, what were you saying, Mr. Buchanan?”
He chuckled. “Michael’s fine, Ms. Martella. I asked what you were still doing here instead of heading over to the party?”
“I’m working,” I said again. “I had some last-minute work I needed to catch up on.” I saw his shoulders stiffen, and I figured he was pissed that I was defying a specific management order. “My supervisor assured me she sent an email to H…uhm, HR explaining my absence.”
Michael cleared his throat. “I feel utterly ridiculous, Ms. Martella,” he said smoothly. “May I please turn around to continue this conversation?”
He wasaskingme?
“Sure,” I answered casually, even though I was feeling anything but. “Just don’t expect coherent, intelligent answers from me if you do.”
He let out another laugh as he turned around to face me again. “Jesus Christ, Ms. Martella.”
My brows drew down, and I peered up at him from my chair. “How do you know my name?”
Michael cocked his head and gave me a slow, sexy smile. “I just do.”
I started fanning myself. “Could you please not do that?” I begged.
He full-blown smiled, and I was rendered completely, utterly, hopelessly stupid. “Doing what?”
I don’t know how long I sat there just staring, but my brain finally kicked in and I managed to say, “Smiling.” I cleared my throat. “Can you please not smile at me?”
His grin widened, and I wanted to cry.
He was laughing at me.
He was laughing at me, and for some reason, it bothered me more than when I’m usually laughed at. Suddenly, I saw myself through his gorgeous green eyes and the disappointment was soul deep this time around.
Michael must have seen the truth in my expression because, all of the sudden, he asked, “Are you okay, Sophia?”
“I just think it’s unprofessional for you to laugh at me,” I mumbled. “May I,please,get back to work, Mr. Buchanan?” I knew my face was red with embarrassment, but there was nothing I could do about it. Besides, Iwasembarrassed, so there was no point in pretending not to be.
His jaw ticked. “I’m not laughing at you, Sophia,” he said, his voice stern and…I think a little offended. “And you’re not going back to work.” He tilted his head towards my computer and said, “Shut it down for the night.”
I could feel my eyes widen. “I…I…ca…can’t!” I squeaked out. “I have a lot of work to catch up on. I even have to work this weekend to-”
He held his hand up to stop me mid-breakdown. “I will come in this weekend with you and help you catch up.” I couldn’t hold in my gasp. “That way you can spare a couple of hours to attend the party.”
