by P. A. Lupton
I was getting pissed.
Instead of sitting meekly, I crossed my arms and raised my chin, the gesture meant to challenge. My blood boiled thinking about how he’d just embarrassed me.
Sometimes, when I was overcome with anger my words bypassed my brain’s self-preservation filter, pouring out of my mouth before I could stop them. Most often, I’d regret what I said later. Now was no exception.
“Who… The Fuck… Do you think you are?”
The moment I spoke the words I had to refrain from smacking a hand over my mouth. Oh my god. Did I just curse at my new boss? Out loud? Shit. I had no idea what idiocy had taken over my brain, but I was not the kind of person who swore at her boss the first time I met him. Hell, I wasn’t the type of person to show such blatant disrespect for my boss ever. What a wonderful first impression, I’d be lucky if he didn’t fire me on the spot. Double shit.
I took a deep breath to calm my rioting nerves. Well, what’s done was done. I couldn’t turn back time to take back the words so I straightened my spine and prepared for the verbal flaying I was positive he was about to unleash. Instead, he surprised me by throwing back his head and laughing, a deep rumbling reverberation that did funny things to my stomach. And if I thought the man was gorgeous with the scowl that was nothing compared to him smiling. Wow.
I was annoyed by my body’s reaction. Rather than staying irritated, his laughter seemed to have a melting effect on me. Especially when I noticed the way his face lit with humor. Still, despite his obvious amusement, his eyes sparked with heat—and I thought it was just his laugh that had me melting, boy was I wrong. When I noticed that heated look, I couldn’t stop the shiver that rolled down my spine. God, even my knees were shaking. I was going to have to sit down in a second. Damn him.
“Good for you, mon petit chaton.”
Oh, I was in so much trouble. He spoke French, like in my dreams.
“Wait… you aren’t mad?” I wasn’t expecting a thaw in the icy attitude from before. “And did you just call me a cat?”
“Kitten—not cat.” His lip curled, flashing a devastating smirk. “Feisty. And you have claws, just like a kitten.”
“Huh?” What did I say to that?
He smirked.
“Well, you have me a little off guard here. First, I do nothing and you seem angry with me. Now, I actually curse at you and give attitude, and you laugh.” I cocked my head. “You’re a little odd, aren’t you?”
“More than a little in fact,” he chuckled softly this time.
“Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
“How cryptic of you.”
“Women enjoy mystery, don’t they?” He winked.
Holy crap. Was my new boss…flirting? I couldn’t really tell with all the mixed signals he was sending me. This guy had to have a personality disorder of some kind. “Why did you force everyone to leave? Would you like to tell me what that,” I waved to the closed door, “was about?”
A sheepish expression crossed his face, briefly, but he recovered quickly. “No.”
“Cryptic and stubborn, I see.”
“Sorry.” He did look contrite, but still avoided the question. Instead, he extended his hand. “Mark Young. You are?”
“Alyssa Reynolds.” I answered while shaking, trying to ignore the jolt that hit me when our hands connected.
“Alyssa Reynolds?” He seemed genuinely surprised by the news. Holding onto my hand longer than necessary, he looked reluctant to pull away. Finally he took his hand back and asked. “The new art director?”
I was shocked. The way he acted toward me indicated he would at least be aware of my identity. Weird. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?”
“Embarrassing?” he arched a brow. “For you or me?”
“Me.” I said, exasperated. “Every person in this meeting today is now wondering what I did to piss you off. They’re probably thinking it’s one of two things. One,” I ticked on my fingers,” I’m incompetent at my job. Or two, there’s something personal going on between us. Neither scenario places me in a particularly flattering light.”
With a serious expression he moved so close I had to stop myself from retreating. My heart leapt at his proximity. Not with nervousness, but excitement. When he spoke I felt his breath on my face, he was that close. “I personally approve every new hire at Young and Rubicam and I’ve seen your portfolio. There’s not a person in the business who would ever question your competence once they’ve seen your work. Trust me.”
My chest filled with warmth. He’d seen my work—and he liked it. I couldn’t help but smile before I reminded myself I was irritated. “Still—”
“And” he continued, ignoring me, eyes blazing with a look I couldn’t quite decipher. “There is something personal between us. You just don’t know it yet.”
His words had just rendered me speechless. Not to mention had my belly doing crazy somersaults. We stared at each other for a beat before I finally found my voice. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean. You feel it too,” he reached his hand slowly toward me, “right here.” Normally, if a strange man looked as if he was about to grab my chest I would either punch him, or step back. This time I did nothing but try to hide how powerfully he was affecting me. I was anxious to see what he was going to do, and if I were being honest somewhere deep inside, I kind of wanted him to cop a feel. But I was both relived and disappointed when he just rested his palm over my heart and held it there while he stared at me.
I did feel a pull between us, but I wasn’t about to admit it to him. Instead, I stepped back and changed the subject. “So, can you explain what I did to make you so angry?”
Blinking, he looked as if he’d just been released from a spell. He exhaled a rough breath and took a step back as well. Though I was disappointed, I acknowledged it was probably for the best. I couldn’t think with him so close. “Alyssa, I apologize for my erratic behavior today. I’m just…surprised.”
“Surprised?” I motioned with my hand for him to continue. “About?”
“I can’t say.” It was easy to spot his frustration. I think he wanted to explain, but for some reason felt he couldn’t. It left me feeling like I was missing an important piece of the puzzle.
“You know, this is one of the strangest conversations I’ve ever had.”
“Oh, it’s about to get stranger.” He took a card out of his suit jacket and wrote something on the back and handed it to me. “My cell. If anything…unusual happens I want you to call me.”
“Okaaay.” I grabbed the card. “Unusual how?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.” He stood there for a moment just staring, his gaze fixed on my mouth. I got the feeling he wanted to kiss me. Memories of my dreams came crashing back and I found myself leaning toward him, holding my breath—waiting.
Suddenly, he shook his head and the heated expression disappeared. “It was great to meet you Alyssa Reynolds.”
“Well, it was…different meeting you, Mr. Young.”
He turned to leave, but I stopped him before he opened the door. “Wait.”
With his hand on the knob, he glanced back at me. “What am I supposed to tell everyone when they ask why you wanted to see me? And trust me, they’ll ask.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” With that he opened the door, and I watched as the people gathered just outside suddenly scattered.
“Miss Genery.” No sooner had he called for his assistant and she was standing with paper and pen awaiting his instruction.
“Yes sir.”
“Please draft a letter and distribute it to all personnel informing them of which parking spot belongs to me.” He looked back at me and winked conspiratorially. “I would like to ensure there are no further misunderstandings.”
&nb
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