Page 42 of The Naughty List

I hear a small harrumph and Paul peeks around the edge of the paper to roll his eyes at us. With a shake of his head, he returns his attention to the news.

“Paul’s been here since my dad started the company.” He pats Paul on the shoulder.

“Paul, nice to meet you,” I say when the elevator reaches my floor.

He responds with a grunt, not bothering to look up. “Nice to see you again, sir…pants and all. This is me,” I hurriedly add before attempting to dash away from the awkward moment.

“I know, I’m coming with you.”

I stop in my tracks. “Wait, what? Why? Was something wrong with the contracts? Shit, did I screw up?”

“No,” he says with a laugh. “But something you said made me realize that I should make more of an effort to be seen around the office, to engage with people.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sad, isn’t it? Took me this long to realize that I need to be more involved with my employees, make sure they know I’m here for them.”

I nod my head, eyeing him.

“What?”

“Well, it’s just that you walking around might actually make people more on edge.”

“Really? Why?” He seems genuinely surprised.

“Like you said, you’re not usually around a lot, so they’ll probably assume that you’re here to fire them or because something bad is going on that they aren’t aware of.”

“Hmm.” He rubs his hand over his jaw. “What if I make a quick announcement down here on the sales floor and just say hey, I’m not here to fire you, just being nosey and wanting to say hi?”

“Don’t do that!” I glance around, hoping our hushed tones aren’t carrying to the nearby cubicles. He laughs, and I realize he’s joking. “Very funny, sir.” I roll my eyes and start down the hallway toward my desk.

He falls into step beside me, earning stares from my coworkers. “You do realize you can call me Alex, right?”

We make it to my desk, and I turn to look at him, hands on my hips. “Everyone thinks I’m getting fired.”

“Seriously? Just because I’m talking to you?”

I give him an are-you-serious look and place my purse in my bottom desk drawer. “You have no idea the effect you have on people, do you?”

He opens his mouth then snaps it shut again, chuckling to himself like his thoughts are incongruous with the expression of surprise on his face.

“What?” I ask suspiciously.

He plants his hands on my desk and leans closer, lowering his head and his voice. “You know, the same thing could be said about you.”

My cheeks burn when he gives me a playful wink and taps my desk twice before walking away. He moves between the cubicles, making small talk with employees he passes on his way back to the elevator.

His words bounce around my head all day and through the remainder of the week. At night, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and kicking myself for not asking him to elaborate. But then I realize if I had asked, he could have said something completely inane and not flirtatious at all. I kind of liked being able to imagine the mysterious possibility that there was an innuendo there.

* * *

“Merry Christmas!” Marsha places a large bottle of spiced rum on my desk.

Surprised, I look up at her. “What’s this for?”

“Remember how last year I bought you that bottle of eggnog I thought was a pre-made cocktail but turned out to just be non-alcoholic eggnog? Well, this year I thought, I’ll buy her the rum.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything, now I feel bad. I thought we all agreed no Secret Santa this year.”

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