by Imani King
Well, I guess it’s not different at all. I have no excuse except that I find the man devastatingly sexy. My mind wanders when I see him. From the messy style of his hair to the piercing look in his eyes. Intelligent, mischievous. Maybe even naughty.
My sister Samone told me that this is just how jobs work. You develop a workplace crush — for distraction, or entertainment, or just something to do to pass the time. I guess Diet Coke Man is all three.
It’s not like my imagination has much to work with, anyway. Kaleb was the last man — the only man — I slept with. He was a boy, not a man. And he was my college boyfriend. Earnest and sweaty and more interested in slam poetry than my body. The few orgasms he gave me weren’t exactly memorable.
Diet Coke man is an actual man. His body is lean and cut and muscular all at once. He looks like he could toss me over his shoulder and throw me onto a bed. His bed. In his fabulous apartment. He looks rich. I haven’t worked in DC long, but I can tell when someone looks rich. And he looks it.
It’s weird.
Three weeks ago — before I started — if someone asked me to describe my ideal man, then I would not have described anything like the Diet Coke Man. I would have said I’d want to be with someone more like Kaleb. Tall and skinny and nerdy. Bookish. Someone who grew up in a middle class neighborhood and chose to go to Howard University even though he got a scholarship to NYU.
But Diet Coke Man. Rich and tall and white. And ripped.
I watch his ass as he inserts a quarter into the machine.
I’ve never felt a more instantaneous and visceral attraction to a man in my life. He’s probably a jackass. People that good-looking tend to be jerks in my experience. I made a deal with myself a while back that I would avoid all these rich DC types while I was working here. I’m holding out for the sensitive type.
Men like Diet Coke Man can simply live in my imagination.
As I’m staring now, the Diet Coke Man realizes he’s being watched and smiles at me and Joanne. It’s the confident smile of a man who knows how good he looks, and is okay with it. He heads off, letting us both watch him go.
I turn my attention back to Joanne, who is still ogling him.
“I’m glad it’s not just me undressing him with my eyes, but don’t you have a boyfriend?” I point out good-naturedly.
Joanne stares back at me, wide-eyed. “You do know who that was, right?”
“No. You know his name?” My libido leaps up like a badly trained dog. Getting a name could be a good next step. With any luck, the step after that would be a bed.
“Isaac,” Joanne says bluntly. “Isaac Brighton.”
My jaw hits the floor. “He was... he was standing there all the time?”
Joanne nods. “What do you know? Turns out you have seen him.”
Back in the office, I bury my head in my work and fervently wish that my laptop would swallow me up. Turns out the reason I haven’t seen much of my boss is not that he never goes near his office, it’s that he seldom leaves it. From what Joanne tells me, he is one of the most dedicated workers, and even more so since his divorce left him with little else in his life. Now, this paragon of employment has overheard me criticizing his work ethic. While I was standing chatting at the water fountain. I’m screwed.
Wonderful.
Perhaps Mr. Brighton hadn’t heard what I said about him? Or if he had, perhaps he would see the funny side of the situation. Failing that, was it possible that he would, in fact, admire my honesty? After all, I’d been concerned that my boss wasn’t working – that’s a valid concern for an employee and shows how dedicated I am to my work. Well... Maybe that last option isn’t all that likely, but the others are possible. Aren’t they?
This wild optimism holds out for about an hour until a voice jolts me from my work.
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
I look around nervously. Just as I’d feared, it’s my boss, Isaac Brighton, addressing the office.
“Before I withdraw to my office for a round of golf – I’m not sure how I’ll play around the furniture but I’ll find a way – it’s been brought to my attention by a zealous employee that I don’t do any work around here.” He pauses in his speech to look directly at me, and I contemplate how earthquakes never strike when you most want them to. “Now I don’t want anyone to think that I don’t take responsibility for this sort of thing. So, I am here to confess. To own up to how little work I do and accept the humiliation that you will rightly heap upon me, by comparing my own work rate with that of one of you guys. Now, let’s pick someone at random.” He gazes around the room before his eyes inevitably come to rest on me. “Miss Charming, isn’t it? One of our newer employees, but I’m sure that, given how little I do around here, your rate of work will still put mine to shame.”
“I... I...” I fight for words, for something clever to say, but there’s nothing there.
“So what have you done today, Miss Charming?” asks Mr. Brighton.
The next ten minutes is the longest of my life. I had thought that I was working pretty hard at a job which, though it’s new to me, I’m fairly good at. And for a moment I had even thought: Right, you want to play this game, let’s play – I’ll show you how much I do around here. There was a confidence in my voice when I listed what I’d been doing today, even a cockiness. Then Isaac Brighton revealed what he’d been doing, and all my confidence evaporated. No wonder I never saw the man in the outer office. If his workload is anything to go by, he must be permanently chained to his desk. How is it possible for a man to do that much? He really must have nothing else in his life.
“So, Miss Charming,” Mr. Brighton winds up, raising his eyebrows in question. “If I, what was it you said? Never do any work, where exactly does that leave you?”
And with that, the whole office laughs at me, but that isn’t the worst of it. The worst is what Brighton says next.
“Makes me wonder; what exactly would the office lose if you were to leave it?”
Sure, this isn’t my ideal job, but I can’t manage without it. Not having this job closes off all my immediate options. I won’t have money to live on, and there’s no way to afford graduate school. Both my dream and my practical real-world plan hang completely on this job. I can try to get another, but I can’t afford to be out of work for long. It seems unlikely that Isaac Brighton will be giving me a good reference, which will make getting a new job of any kind difficult. If I get fired, then I have to head back home to live with Mom. I love her, but that’s not something I want to be doing at this point in my life.
Brighton goes back into his office and for the rest of the day, I sit at my desk managing to get even less work done. I’m a bundle of nerves, waiting for the call to Mr. Brighton’s office and the inevitable firing that’s sure to follow.
The call never comes, and the end of the working day rolls around. As people start to pack up and head for home, my eyes are still glued to the door of Isaac Brighton’s office. I can’t leave things like this. I can’t go home with this uncertain future hanging over my head.
With nervous and reluctant steps, I make my way across the room and knock on my boss’ door.
“Come in!” the voice sounds tired but not necessarily irascible.
I take a deep breath and go in.
Isaac Brighton is seated on the far side of a large, dark wood desk, staring out of the window with a pensive expression on his face. He says nothing, leaving me to make the first move.
“Mr. Brighton, I wanted to apologize.” I think what Brighton did to me in the outer office had been unfair, but I’d been in the wrong to start with, and he hasn’t fired me for insubordination – yet – so an apology seems appropriate. “What I said was completely out of line. Not just the fact that I said it, but that I said it behind your back. If I had a problem with you, then I should have voiced it to you in private. There’s no excuse for what I...”
“Please.” Isaac Brighton holds up a hand, still not looking at me. “It’s fine. We�
��ve all done it; you were just unlucky enough to get caught. You’re right that you should have spoken to me privately, but by the same token I shouldn’t have called you out in front of the entire office. It was unprofessional. Let’s just say that neither of us was at our best today and leave it at that. Shall we?”
He turns in his chair, seeming to see me for the first time. I can swear that I see something in his eyes... Attraction? A woman can usually tell when a man is interested in her. Men think they’re subtle, but they very seldom are. It’s probably just my imagination. Or even hope. I can’t help noticing once more that he’s incredibly good-looking. Gorgeous, sparkling eyes. A hard-muscled and lean body. The kind that’s made for sinning, as they say in the stories.
“I’d like that very much, sir. And I’ll take the job more seriously in the future. It’s very important to me.”
Brighton nods. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day, and I still have a lot of work to do tonight.”
I’m grateful to get out of there. I always thought that as you rose through an organization, the job got easier as well as better paid, but one look at Isaac Brighton makes me glad to be on a lower rung of the career ladder, and in no hurry to climb it.
To read more, check out Talisa’s Heart right here!
About the Author
Click here to like my page on Facebook!
Love BWWM romance? Check out the BWWM Romance Fan Page.
Click here to sign up for my mailing list.
Want to be a part of her ARC team? Receive a free copy of brand new releases before they go live! All in exchange for an honest review. Click here!
More by Imani King:
Saint: The Corbett Billionaire Brothers
Rowan: The Corbett Billionaire Brothers
Linebacker’s Second Chance
Dirty Tackle
Kian
Aidan
A Bride for One Season
Scandalous: The Senator’s Secret Bride
Her Hollywood Hitman
About the Author:
Imani King is a small town girl with a big imagination. She nurtures a passion for yoga and can often be found in the studio when she's not writing.
In her fantasies, she and her billionaire Mr. Right travel the world, exploring different cultures and each other! These daydreams are the inspiration for her sizzling stories, so what are you waiting for? Give one of them a try and let her know what you think.
Find all of my books at www.amazon.com/author/imaniking.