Page 50 of Resisting the Boss (Dirty Hot Resistance 4)

I look at the complimentary fish crackers placed on the table and pick one up, idly. “I don’t know. I guess it’s you.”

This, apparently, was the right thing to say because throughout lunch, he looks ridiculously smug.

Jace doesn’t show up to my desk the rest of the day.

I feel both relieved and a little despondent. I realize I didn’t quite hate his hovering.

The people around me are quite nice but none of them are my boss.

However, not having to worry about his constant presence also lets me focus on the things happening in my life right now.

I don’t know why this detective is so focused on me. I barely knew Hashem Jameson. And then the matter with Mom’s car. Since the car has reappeared, will the investigation into her disappearance be reopened? Where has the car been all this time?

Is Mom still alive?

Has she been looking out for me?

Uncle Raymond told me not to hold onto false hope. His face had been firm when I had talked to him but his voice had cracked in grief. All these years and he still hadn’t recovered from Mom’s disappearance.

I tap the pencil against my desk, agitated.

But I don’t want to let it go.

If there is even a glimmer of chance that Mom is alive and well, I want to see her. I want to confront her and ask her where she’s been all this time. Why she never came back. Why she left me.

My fingers tighten around the pencil. I just want to see her.

My eyes are burning and I close them, forcing the tears back.

Hearing the scrape of a chair, I look up to see everyone has left. Sighing, I pack up my things and make my way to Jace’s office.

Opening the door, I see him leaning against the edge of his desk, his whole appearance now mussed up after a day at the office. Frankly speaking, I prefer him like this, all sexy and ruffled up. His hair has reverted to those natural curls with the number of times he’s run his fingers through them.

He looks up when I open the door and peek in, and when his frown transforms into a small smile, I bite my lower lip as my nipples tighten at the way his lips curve.

Why is he so damn sexy?

“Are you done?” I close the door behind me and lean against it, my hands flat on the wood, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

He studies me in silence, a strange gleam in his eyes.

When he straightens up and puts the file he’s reading on the table, my heartbeat goes erratic.

“Nearly so,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine.

How can he look so calm when he was so out of it this afternoon?

“Why are you standing there?”He’s smirking now as if he knows something I don’t.

I fidget, ultimately crossing my arms over my chest, “Just waiting.”

He pauses for a heartbeat and then, “Come here.”

There is no mistaking the command in his voice and for a moment I’m tempted to tell him to go shove it, but my feet are moving of their own volition, unable to resist the masterful tone he uses, and I cover the distance between us till I’m standing in front of him.

Now what?

I’m trying to calm myself down as well, afraid that he’ll realize how eager I am and yet, terrified.

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