Page 275 of Small Town Firsts
My gaze traveled up and up. He was all angles from his jawline to his broad shoulders to the tapered waist accentuated by the cut of his suit. Even his cheekbones were severe and hollowed out in annoyance. Dammit, he even had the little muscle flex in his upper jawline that saiddanger! Danger, I’m pissed off.
He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at me, which effectively cooled my panties.
Sort of.
I hooked my bag over my shoulder and sauntered out of the elevator. The only thing I could do at this point was try to pull off this outfit.
My bracelets shimmied down my arm to brush my hand. The chains of my necklace shifted under my dress and the crystals down my back felt warm. I liked to think they were doing their job to keep all my shit together, but it was probably the heat of the August day.
“Miss Moon?”
“Mr. Shaw.” I just knew he was my boss. This was exactly how my day was going.
“You’re egregiously late.”
I pulled the crushed sack of fritters out of my bag and handed it to him as I walked by. “I’d explain the ridiculous start to my day, but it would probably bore you. Nor would you believe it.”
The desk outside the glassed off corner office had to be mine. It had April’s energy all over it. I set my bag down on the corner, shot the canvas bag full of sticky sugar cotton under my desk, then leaned against the side.
Mr. Shaw was still standing in front of the elevators, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing, his long fingers holding the crumpled bag away from his suit.
Like a dog’s dirty business.
Panty alert again.
What was wrong with me? Had I hit my head and not realized it?
I kind of liked the heat in his gaze. And the attitude. Maybe even the sneer.
I’d assumed I would only find icy disdain from my texts and emails. And yet it was a miracle the glass around the office behind me hadn’t shattered from the force of his stare.
He was a rude man, even when he wasn’t saying a word. But rather than being infuriated by his annoyance, I was…eager.
Ready to get my spar on with a worthy opponent.
I crossed my legs at the ankle and gripped the side of the desk.Fake it till you make it, girl.“Would you like to inform me of my tasks for the day, Mr. Preston Michael Shaw, Esquire?”
FIVE
April had invitedthe devil into my serene workplace.
To be fair, I had no knowledge of any supernatural evil at Miss Moon’s command. Other than the fact that her so not business-appropriate dress had a slit up her leg to approximately just south of her panties, assuming she was wearing any.
It sure didn’t look like she was wearing a bra, considering her nearly indecent top. If shewaswearing one, I couldn’t imagine what the contraption looked like.
Not that I was considering my assistant’s underwear choices. I was not that sort of boss. I was merely making note of several irrefutable facts.
One, Ryan G. Moon was inexcusably late, even if she had given me a bakery bag of goods. But that gesture lost points because the bag looked as if it had been doused with grease.
Two, Ryan G. Moon was not dressed in business wear. I couldn’t call her outfit casual either, since I doubted anyone wore a dress slit totherejust to sit around the house.
Perhaps this was part of her calling it a “gig” last week. She’d forgotten what one actually did in an office, so of course she couldn’t dress properly for it.
Three, Ryan G. Moon’s hair was sheer black. Not dark brown. Pure, unadulterated black and escaping in endless rivulets down her nearly bare back from its messy twist.
Her back wasn’t actually bare. As far as material covering it, indeed. But she also wore crisscrossing chains bisected with miniature colored rocks. Before she’d turned to face me, I’d been momentarily blinded when a chunk of rock caught the sun and refracted a rainbow of light.
Perhaps that was her plan. Render me visionless, force sweets upon me, and then I would be at her mercy. Helpless to chide her about being late or being dressed like…that. Incapable of even questioning her ability with a spreadsheet or if she knew how to take dictation.
