Page 288 of Small Town Firsts
She gave a dainty shrug, and her spaghetti straps slipped a fraction lower on her shoulders. “We chatted for a few minutes.”
“Before he asked you out.”
“Actually, you asked me out before he did.” She smiled serenely as our server rolled a covered cart to our table. “To lunch,” she added while I stared at her.
I waited to speak until the server set down our lunches and left. “This isn’t a date. It’s a working lunch.”
“Right.”
“It is,” I insisted.
“Silly me. Here I thought you were staking your claim, in deed if not words. You know, pissing on my tree before your brother could.”
I didn’t know what part of that to unpack first. “Absolutely not. Fraternization is vigorously frowned upon at Shaw, Shaw, and Shaw, Attorneys at Law.”
Hypocrite.The voice in my head was even louder than the drowning waves of lust this unusual woman inspired in me.
“It’s frowned upon in marriages too, I believe, and I know of one Shaw who likes to bend the rules there.”
“One too many rules. The blond in question is also his admin.”
Her exotically arched eyebrow spiked higher. “Not only did he go for another cookie jar, but he has doubly sticky fingers. And you thought you were a bad boy.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I hadn’t done anything as out of character as my behavior today since college, and look where that had gotten me?
She took a bite of her steak and let out an orgasmic moan.
“Good?” I asked in a strangled voice.
It went well with my equally strangled cock being imprinted by the angry teeth of my fly. My ardor should have cooled thanksto this ugly situation I’d found myself in, and yet…no. Nothing had cooled at all.
“Delicious.” She batted her ridiculously gorgeous eyes at me. “When does the work start?”
Instead of digging into my lunch, I withdrew a long sheaf of folded papers from the inside pocket of my suit jacket. Wordlessly, I passed them across the table.
Her eyebrow did that artful arch again as she began paging through the hefty document.
Granted, only the first page or so consisted of genuine tasks I expected her to complete this week. The last two pages had been borrowed from a free legal resource I’d found online with tips to make your law office work smarter, not harder. One suggestion was to use a white board and Post-It notes to visually shift tasks from the to do column to the done column as things were completed. That seemed like something she’d like.
Especially since they recommended including notes with inspirational woo-woo phrases among the work ones. Pithy quotes such as, “when life gets tough, turn your lemons into lemonade and add a garnish.”
How terribly helpful. But we were all just trying to set our souls free. Or some such bullshit.
“I’m only your assistant for a week.”
“I know and there are so many issues ofCosmopolitanto read. And all ten toes with nails to repaint.” I took a bite of my orange chicken and nearly let out a moan of my own before going back for more.
“You’re the one who flounced this morning before giving me actual work to do. Although it took some time to craft this, didn’t it?” She shook her head. “Make sure the water carafe in the waiting lounge is replenished twice daily? Seriously? I thought you’d mention something about that godawful filing system. I don’t know how you find anything in that records room. Dustyboxes of old client information going back to when, 1975? Those people could be dead.”
“My father started the firm in 1992. And those files are confidential. Did you sign an NDA?”
“Did you give me one?”
I could answer that in the negative. Upon first sight of her, my system had gone into lockdown.
Potential lust override. Abort!
“You’ll be signing one as soon as we get back.” I started plowing through my baby peas, since my chicken was now merely a puddle of orange glaze.
