I made a beeline to an empty bench I spied a few yards from the entrance of the building and sat to gather myself. Punctuality being one of my finer traits, I had twenty-five minutes before I was due up on the executive floor.
My phone buzzed in the bag beside me. It was my sister, Jessica, her third call of the day, all of which I'd ignored. We'd had our regular weekly call a few days before, so I knew what she wanted. The anniversary of Mom's death was approaching, and she was calling to check on me.
We'd stayed somewhat close over the years despite a fundamental difference of opinion about our father, whom I'd refused to see or talk to for nearly fifteen years. Early on, she'd attempted to persuade me to give him a chance to explain his side of things, insisting there was more to what happened between my mom and him than I knew. What I knew was my mother was dead and he'd moved on and married his mistress before she was cold in her grave. Jessica finally stopped pleading for him when I made it clear if she didn't let it go, she would join him in the ranks of estranged family. The threat was empty, I loved my sister, but she heeded it nonetheless.
Trying to steady my nerves, I took in the sleek, modern lines of G&G Components' new headquarters. My knowledge of architecture was limited, having only taken one class on the subject before changing my major. It was hard not to appreciate the beauty and ingenuity of the building. Taking deep breaths and focusing on the small details of its construction and the sounds of the city moving around me lessened my anxiety. I chalked my uncharacteristic nerves up to doing a job at home for the first time.
Ten minutes passed by the time I looked at my phone again. Pretending to take a selfie, I used the camera as a mirror, happy to find my little city sidewalk meditation smoothed the worry lines. I once again looked like my normal, confident self as I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and strode toward the door.
I looked up and all of the composure I'd worked so hard to regain melted away. A few yards behind me, staring at me in the reflective glass, was a man who made my heart stop. My breath hitched and I was paralyzed as my mind raced for the appropriate response to Gregory Michaels' unexpected appearance. Whatever mutiny my body staged against my mind wasn't the response I was hoping for. By some miracle, the door opened in front of me, breaking the spell.
An average-looking man in a nondescript business suit held the door, waiting politely for me to pass through. In a daze, I shuffled in and spun around to find Mr. Michaels standing in the same spot, still looking at me. I knew he couldn't see me through the dark glass, but that didn't lessen the impact of his gaze. He walked toward the door, his expression intent, purposeful. I struggled to take a step back, as if some invisible force pulled me toward him. I'd never felt anything like it before, so I did the only reasonable thing I could think of.
I ran.
The ladies restroom was just a few yards away so I ducked inside.
What. The. Fuck? I leaned against the door of the woman's bathroom. That wasn't me out there. Men didn't have that effect on me; I had it on them. I was always in control. Every step I'd taken regarding men for as long as I could remember was part of a well laid out plan. Until that moment.
I pulled the door just enough to peer through the crack. My pulse thudded in my ears. Looking at him, completely uninhibited by the risk of discovery, it was impossible to deny my attraction to him. The flush of my skin and the fluttering in my stomach gave it away all too well.
Gregory Michaels scanned the lobby, looking for something, or someone. Knowing in my bones what he was looking for was me pleased me far more than it should have. Ignoring the temptation to exit and let him find me, I kept watching. He approached the desk manned by two security officers.
"Oh! Excuse me!" the woman entering the bathroom nearly shouted.
I jumped back, my hand over my chest. The surprise flooded me with an extra dose of adrenaline as if my senses weren't already on high alert. Still holding the door open, she studied me for a moment before looking over her shoulder back into the lobby. Turning back to me, she giggled with a knowing expression and stepped through the doorway.
"He has that effect," she said, moving past me as the door closed.
Thank God the door blocked me from view. I smiled at her unashamed. Under different circumstances I would have openly appreciated Gregory Michaels with any nearby woman, or man for that matter, who had the use of their eyes. Blindness was surely the only defense against that kind of appeal.
"Is that Mr. Michaels?" I played dumb. There was no doubt who he was. I'd spent more time than was necessary looking at pictures of him for my research. None of that research prepared me for my body's reaction to him
She raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, this is your first time seeing him in person. I would tell you it gets easier, but I've worked here for over a year and still get nervous around him."
I could understand why.
I shrugged, smiling at her in the mirror.
"Thanks for the heads-up. I'm interviewing to replace his administrative assistant."
"Lucky you! I thought they were looking to fill that position internally." She extended her hand. "I'm Stacy, accounting department. You better watch out. More than one of your new coworkers will be pissed if you get the job."
It sounded like a joke, but the look in her eyes told me she was serious.
"Claudia, Claudia Winston," I replied as we shook hands. The last name from my childhood felt strange on my lips.
I'd decided to use my real first name for the job, considering I was working at home and there was always the possibility of running into someone who knew me. People don't typically shout out last names when they bump into acquaintances on the street, and even if they did, a new last name was much easier to explain away.
Winston was my father's last name. I legally changed my last name to my mother's maiden name after she died. It was another way to cut my father, Robert, out of my life.
Apart from my name, the rest of my identity was entirely fake. Bridget created a false work history, school transcripts, and credit report under a recycled social security number, which I then used to rent a small one-bedroom apartment a few blocks from my real one. Bridget ensured everything was in place for me to pass the intense background check G&G's human resources department would run if I was considered for the position.
"Unfortunately, the yummy Mr. Michaels is only for looking at. He's happily married to a gorgeous saint of a woman," Stacy said before reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.
I contained my sarcastic laugh. Forget that his wife hired me to seduce him and was considering divorce, the way he'd looked at me told me in no uncertain terms his marriage was far from happy. Poor Elsa. Guilt tugged at the corners of my mind. Another odd feeling for me. Clearly meeting my mark's wife had more of an impact than I'd anticipated.
"Good to know."
I glanced at the door, wondering if the coast was clear. Of course the goal was for me to meet him, and his initial reaction to me was far better than I could have hoped for. The problem was my initial reaction to him. I needed to be in control. It had to be on my terms. After all, he was just another job. He was just another job. It didn't hurt to remind myself a second time.
"Well, I guess I'll see you around." Stacy headed for the door.
I held my breath, waiting for a glimpse into the lobby from my safe vantage point.
With no sign of Mr. Michaels, I moved closer to the exit to get a better look before the door closed. He was gone as far as I could tell. I only had a few minutes before my meeting with Janet, so it was now or never. Inhaling deeply, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood tall.
I strode over to the security desk, using every ounce of the acting skills I possessed to maintain a facade of self-assurance.
"Hi." I smiled at the Mack truck of a security guard. "I'm Claudia Winston here to see Mrs. Janet Peterson."
He flashed a cocky grin, reminding me of Mr. Fantastic from Florida.
"Go on thr
ough, um, Ms. Winston," he said, taking an obvious peek at my left hand.
Stepping through the gate, I consciously told my feet to take each step toward the elevator. How the hell was I supposed to sit through an interview, knowing a man who'd evoked such a tempest of emotion in me was somewhere close by? I whispered prayers as I walked, unsure if they were to keep him away or bring him to me.
When the elevator doors parted, it seemed they must have been the latter.
"Going up?" Mr. Michaels said, a half smile smug on his face as he leaned against the wall. His head tilted forward and his warm honey-colored eyes glinted through long lashes.
Fuck. Me.
❖
Fuck. Me. It bore repeating.
After a brief moment of stunned gawking, I managed a smile and tore my gaze from those sexy, full lips. I didn't know how I forced my legs to move me onto that elevator. Once I was on, I turned my back in an attempt to guard myself from him.
"What floor?" His tone sounded amused, although the alluring timbre of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
The one we were standing on would have sufficed for what I had in mine.
"Um, seven," I replied over my shoulder. My voice caught slightly in my throat.
God, he smelled divine, like leather and fresh spring rain. He reached forward around me. I could feel his eyes on me while he pressed the button to take us up. It was hard to breathe so near him, as if all the oxygen burned away by the sizzling attraction between us. I'd known he was gorgeous before, I'd met plenty of attractive men in my life, but this was different. I tried again to remind myself he was just another job. I couldn't afford to lose control.
Still, standing so close to him, I realized what I'd seen of him before was like gazing at a distant star. You recognized its light, its beauty, but it wasn't until you were sucked into its orbit you could fully appreciate its power. That's how I felt being alone in his presence. As if some invisible yet undeniable force was drawing me in. Gravity.
"This must be my lucky day." I chanced a glance over my shoulder as he resumed his relaxed position against the wall, seemingly unaffected.
My stomach tightened and I pulled the portfolio closer to my chest. I was certain he could hear my heart pounding in the relative silence.
No, fuck that. I had to get it together. It was just a simple case of instant chemistry, and he was just another man--a job, nothing more, nothing less. Sure, I'd never felt anything like it before, but that didn't matter. So what if he'd caught me off guard, and I'd wanted to fuck him the instant I laid eyes on him. It might not have been exactly what I'd planned for, but this was an opportunity, not only to get the job done, but also to have one hell of a good time doing it. I could roll with it.
"It just might be," I said, my tone bordering on sultry as I turned slightly toward him.
Jesus, those eyes. Flecks of gold around his irises danced in the light, his amusement apparent. My confidence waned.
"Claudia Winston." I offered my hand. "I'm here interviewing to be your new assistant, Mr. Michaels."
"Then it's definitely my lucky day, Ms. Winston. It's a pleasure to meet you." He gripped my hand with both of his. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
The word pleasure coming out of those full, pouty lips made me think of just that. I saw visions of him kissing paths across my naked body and fought the urge to moan. He raised my hand toward his face. God help me, those lips. He paused, looking at me with a ridiculously sexy smirk before pressing his lips to my skin. My breath hitched and I found myself wishing I'd brought a change of panties. I couldn't believe how brazen he was. I expected more of a challenge, considering the image Gregory Michaels portrayed to the public, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He held my fingers, staring into my eyes for far longer than I should have been comfortable with. The last thing I wanted was for him to stop touching me. My mouth parted as my mind raced for some of the witty flirtatious banter that always poured from my mouth so easily in the past.
The chime of elevator's arrival on the executive floor broke the sexually charged silence. He stood up straight, reluctantly releasing my hand.
"Oh, Gregory! I didn't expect you back for another thirty minutes or so," an attractive woman who looked to be in her late fifties said when the doors parted. "You must be Ms. Winston. Bruce called up to let me know you were on your way up, so I thought I'd come greet you. I'm Janet Peterson."
"It's nice to meet you." I stepped out the elevator.
"Well, Gregory, do you need anything before I get started with Ms. Winston? You have a call with Maxwell United in forty-five minutes. I already printed the reports Joshua prepared and put them in the folder on your desk."
"No, Janet, thanks," he said, the back of his fist over his mouth as though he was stifling a laugh.
"All right, then. This way Ms. Winston." Janet walked past the receptionist desk.
I glanced over at the brunette sitting behind it who was staring past me with the look of a starstruck teenager at some boy band concert. When her gaze shifted to me, those doe eyes turned to daggers. Stacy from accounting wasn't lying. Getting the job was going to make me some enemies.
Mr. Michaels didn't pass us to go into his office. I could feel his presence behind me, watching me.
"Ms. Winston, can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?" Janet asked when we arrived at her office that was located just outside of Mr. Michaels'.
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
"All right, then. Have a seat and we can get started."
"Actually, Janet, since I have some time, I'll interview Ms. Winston." Mr. Michaels placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward his office door.
My body hummed with excitement, and I tried not to let it show in my expression. Janet's mouth hung open. I gave her an apologetic smile; it was the only thing I could come up with.
"But, Gregory, we discussed--"
The frosted glass of his office door closed on her words.
❖
I stood silent while he looked around the room for a moment and held my breath in anticipation as I willed him to turn around and grab me. Of course, that wouldn't be beneficial to my case. Since I was supposed to be meeting with Janet only, we hadn't bothered with any surveillance equipment. For a moment, I didn't care. I wanted him with every cell in my body, but I couldn't give in to that desire so easily.
I'd had good chemistry with marks before, but what was going on between Mr. Michaels and me was like the discovery of the atom bomb.
He strode over to a cabinet by the desk and flipped over two glasses.
"Would you like a drink, Ms. Winston?" he asked in a low voice.
"I'll have one if you are," I replied, my tone as seductive as his.
He'd caught me off guard in the elevator, had me playing defense. It was time to go on the offensive. I pulled my gaze from the rather enticing view of his broad back draped in a bespoke suit and laid my résumé on his desk while he poured. He turned to me with the two drinks in hand, holding one out to me. I looked up into his golden hazel eyes with a sly smile, letting my fingers drift softly over his as I took it. No wedding ring, I noted. So far, he wasn't anything like I expected. The job was definitely going to be easier than I'd anticipated.
Taking a sip of an excellent scotch, I held his gaze as I eased down into the chair behind me. I crossed my legs, letting my beige pump dangle off my foot as I licked the drink off my lips. He sucked in a breath.
I placed the glass on the desk and turned the chair toward it.
"So, are you ready to begin?" I looked up at him over my shoulder; my words open to interpretation.
"I'd rather go over plans for you to have dinner with me tonight," he said matter-of-factly.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were married, Mr. Michaels?" I ran my tongue over my teeth.
"That didn't seem to matter a moment ago, or did I imagine you were flirting with me?" He smirked.
I turne
d back to him, feigning offense.
"Maybe I'm just friendly," I replied with a mischievous grin.
"Maybe I was talking about a business dinner," he retorted before taking a sip of his drink.
I laughed. He was definitely charming.
"So just a business dinner, then? To discuss my potential as your assistant?" I uncrossed my legs suggestively, giving him a glimpse of the tops of my lacy pantyhose and garter. He cringed almost, but not quite imperceptibly at the action. My confidence surged.
"It can be whatever you want." He stepped forward to set his glass next to mine. The fabric of his pants brushed my leg. I was tempted to spread my legs further and pull him to me right there. Shit, I needed to rein it until I had my surveillance equipment ready to capture the action.
"Don't you even want to take a look at my résumé before you invest any more time on me?" I pointed to the paper on his desk.
"I don't need to see it to know it would take a lifetime to fully absorb all of your talents, Ms. Winston," he responded, his eyes darkened.
Holy fuck. I crossed my legs again to relieve a tiny bit of the tension building between them as my panties dampened further. Who was I kidding? They were completely soaked at that point.
"Such flattery, Mr. Michaels." I shifted in the chair. I took a big gulp of whiskey. "Okay, dinner, then. What time?"
"How about I pick you up at your place at eight?"
"How about I meet you at Remy's Steakhouse at eight?" I countered. "I love a good piece of beef." It was a cheesy line, but based on the look he gave me, it served its intended purpose.
"It's a date."
"No, it's a business meeting." I smirked before tossing back the last of my drink.
We continued flirting as he halfheartedly perused several lines of my manufactured résumé. He made a good effort, but it wasn't long before he was pouring us another drink.
"How is it a woman like you isn't married?" he asked suddenly.
"What makes you think I'm not?"
"No wedding ring." He nodded toward my hand on the fresh glass of whiskey.
Homewrecker Incorporated Page 4