by Kelly Myers
“Let’s meet up,” I write.
Chapter Fifteen
Ashley
I stand at the deli counter and wonder what to order for Drew. He said to get him lunch, but like everything else he was rambling about, he wasn’t very specific. I chew my lower lip and decide on a sandwich since that’s what he ate the other day. “Turkey and swiss on rye with a pickle and side of potato salad. And, a cookie,” I add.
While I wait, I text my brother and thank him for the champagne. He texts me back and asks how the new job is going. Oh, just perfect, I think. One minute, my boss berates and yells at me and the next…
A flush works its way up my chest and neck and I lift a hand to fan my face.
And, the next minute, I swear there’s something in those deep, blue eyes that looks like he wants to devour me. “It’s fine,” I text James. Hardly the truth, but I can’t get into it right now. I have to get back to the office and try to decipher Drew’s list of demands.
“How’s your face?” I write.
“Don’t start with me about that. I got in a fight with some douchebag. It’s over and done,” he writes.
I sigh. It’s not like my brother to get into physical altercations with anyone and I can’t help but worry. But, I won’t push it. Not now, at least.
Ten minutes later, I set my lunch on my desk. I don’t see Drew through the glass partition so I walk into his office and over to his desk. He must have run out. I feel a sense of relief and, as I lay the brown bag from the deli on his desk, the door to his private bathroom swings open and a wave of steam rolls out.
Drew stands there, bare-chested, water sluicing down his smooth, muscled torso. My gaze dips to the towel hanging precariously low around his lean hips and I think I may have stopped breathing.
Our gazes lock and something happens. Like some kind of electricity crackles between us and my stomach drops. He is the most handsome man I have ever seen. All broad shoulders, muscular chest and long legs. I watch a droplet of water race down a groove in his six-pack and disappear into the towel.
The towel does very little to conceal what lies beneath. In fact, it only emphasizes the rather large bulge.
When I realize my mouth hangs open, I snap it shut and look away. Look at anything but his unbelievably chiseled body.
“I, um, brought you your lunch,” I manage to spit out. I spin around, feel my patent leather heels stick together, and trip out of his office.
Omigod. I drop down into my chair and lean my forehead into a hand. I did not know he had a private bathroom attached to his office much less a shower. Seeing Drew practically naked does strange things to my insides and I feel a warmth spread throughout my nether regions.
This is so wrong, Ash.
No matter how attractive he is, Drew Carson is your boss. And, that means he is completely off-limits. I do not sleep with the man in charge. Hell, I don’t sleep with anyone. My last boyfriend, Ben, said I was cold and emotionally-distant in bed. A comment like that scars a girl for life and fills her with doubts. It sure messed me up.
Thinking back, I also never felt my entire body tingle when I saw Ben in a towel.
There is something so strong and masculine about Drew. He possesses qualities that make my knees go weak. There’s no doubt that he’s physically fit and his tall, lean frame looks amazing in a suit. But, it’s more than that. It’s the confident, direct way he looks me in the eye. He’s dominant, direct and takes control of a situation. No one would ever doubt that he’s the one in charge.
He walks with swagger, a purpose, and his presence is larger than life.
As all these thoughts race through my head, I pull out the container of French fries and begin smothering them with ketchup. I don’t normally let myself eat like this, but this job is stressing me out and I need some comfort food.
I stuff a couple fries in my mouth and begin to chew when Drew walks out, freshly-dressed in a designer suit, hair still damp and curling up at the edge of his collar. Oh, God, he’s so charming. Especially now that I know what lies under those expensive clothes, I think.
“Thank you for the sandwich,” he says.
I force the mouthful of fries down and nod. “You’re welcome.”
Something glows in his midnight eyes. Mischief? Humor? He seems much more relaxed than he was before lunch when he stomped into his office and shut the blinds. I’m not sure what goes on in that man’s head. I just want this awkward conversation to end so I douse a handful of fries in the ketchup and keep eating. Maybe he’ll get the message and go away.
“That’s a lot of ketchup,” he says, and eyes the twenty empty packets laying on a napkin.
“I love ketchup,” I admit.
His mouth curves up and that sexy dimple appears in his left cheek. It doesn’t show itself often, but I decide I want to lick it.
I swallow my food, grab another fry and swirl it through the ketchup. “Your new phone came,” I say, and his dark blue gaze lowers to the box on the corner of my desk. Then, those gorgeous eyes lift and focus on me. I can’t look away. I’m caught in his sapphire stare and suddenly my throat feels dry. I struggle to clear it, pull my gaze away. “Oh, and there was nothing at the dry cleaners to be picked up,” I manage to get out. My heart thunders in my ears.
“Really?” he asks in a lazy, drawn-out voice.
Something in his tone reminds me of hot, melting butter and I feel a million butterflies take flight in my stomach. I don’t know what to do. He’s making me too self-conscious to eat, staring at me with that wolf-like look in his eyes, so I’m grateful when my phone beeps with a new text. I look down and see it’s James. Hmm, there’s also an alert I missed from PerfectMatch.com.
“I’ll let you get back to your lunch,” he says. When he turns and walks away, my gaze slides down his tall frame and zeroes in on his tight ass. Of course, it’s perfect, just like the rest of him.
The stress I felt earlier is changing into something different and suddenly I lose my appetite. I toss the rest of the fries in the garbage can just as my phone rings. “Drew Carson’s office,” I say, my voice sounding huskier than usual.
Though not completely confident yet with the phone, I’m doing much better. The man on the other end of the line sounds older and distinguished so I’m not surprised when he identifies himself as Channing, a friend from Drew’s prestigious country club. I buzz Drew and say, “Channing from your club is calling for you.”
For some reason, it comes out as more of a question than a statement. What can I say? He’s got me all in a tizz.
“Are you sure?” he asks, a teasing note in his deep voice.
His question throws me and I look up. His blinds are open again and that piercing midnight gaze stares at me so intently that my voice turns breathless. “Um, yes.”
“Then by all means, put him through.”
I transfer the call and let out a long, low breath. Why does it sound like he’s flirting with me?
Don’t be ridiculous, Ash. He’s your boss and nothing more.
Oh, God, I wish he would shut the blinds again. Every so often, I feel his hot gaze on me and it makes me feel all sorts of strange tinglings.
The rest of the day disappears in a blur of endless calls and emails. Right before I leave at 5:30, things finally quiet down and I get a moment to relax. Which reminds me…
I pull up the email from Tabitha that I accidentally forwarded to the entire office and read it. And, my heart plummets. His ex-wife’s words are catty and border on cruel, if you ask me. It’s a nasty email that’s mean and degrading.
And, I let everyone who works at Carson Industries read it.
Oh, my God, what did I do? No wonder he was so upset. I don’t blame him. Poor Drew.
I feel terrible, but it’s over and done with. I’ll just have to find a way to make it up to him. Then, I remember that the big charity event is next week. I’ll work late, make sure everything gets done and take as much off his plate as possible. Tabitha can talk to m
e so Drew doesn’t have to deal with her.
I decide that which makes me feel a little better and open up the PerfectMatch app. A smile tugs at my mouth when I see a message from Andy. I open it up and my heart stutters to a halt.
“Let’s meet up.”
An hour later, I sit in my apartment, cross-legged on the couch, and talk to Laurel over the phone. “I just don’t think I’m ready,” I tell her.
“Why not?” she asks.
“It’s just going so well. I’m scared if we meet, things will get messed up.”
“Ash, the whole point is to eventually meet in person.”
“I know, but…” I sigh. “I’m just scared he won’t think I’m as attractive as my picture.”
“Ashley Monroe, you are beautiful! Inside and out, and anyone with half a brain will see that.”
I give a half-hearted laugh. “Thanks, Laurel.”
“Look,” she says, “if you aren’t ready then don’t do it. If he really likes you then what does it matter if you meet tonight or next week? If he’s interested and if he’s a good guy, then he will wait for you.”
As I message Andy back, I sincerely hope that she is right.
Chapter Sixteen
Drew
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I murmur.
My eyes narrow and I clutch my cell phone so hard in my hand that it hurts. She’s too busy with her new job, but hopefully next week.
I’m on the verge of throwing the cell phone over the railing of my terrace balcony, but stop myself. I destroyed one phone this week. That’s enough.
And, just because I want to get laid and try to forget about Ashley Monroe doesn’t mean that Leigh should be expected to drop everything, race over and fuck me.
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. That would be a nice distraction, though.
I suppose if I really want some action tonight, I could call about a dozen other women and they would be over here in less than half an hour, legs spread and ready to do whatever I want.
But, I don’t want any of them. I want Ashley. And, I think meeting Leigh would help cool off my desire for my assistant because then I could focus on someone else. Besides, I really like her. I just hope she is who I think she is.
But, is anybody online who they say they are? Shit, even I’m not.
The rest of the week at the office pretty much follows the same torturous pattern. Ashley parades around in her short skirt and oh-so-high heels and I get a hard-on. I spend every lunch at the company gym on the ground level, pumping iron until I’m sweaty and ready to pass out because that’s the only pumping I can do to relieve my stress and sexual tension.
Ever since Leigh’s brush-off, I’ve pulled back. If she messages me, I respond, but I won’t do it first. I’m not going to push myself onto someone who isn’t interested. Plus, I remind myself that I always said independent women with their own thing going on is a turn-on.
I’m not so sure about that anymore, though. A part of me is craving some attention.
On Thursday, I give Ashley a list of eleven more things we need to get for the auction (remember, I did get the Cabo trip) and I expect her to secure everything so I can email the final details to Tabitha later that afternoon.
At 12:30pm, I change into a t-shirt and gym shorts and head down to work out some of my sexual frustration. I spend 30 minutes on the treadmill like I’m running from the hounds of hell. Or, my hot assistant.
Exhausted and dripping in sweat, I wipe my face off with a towel, suck down half a bottle of water and make my way to the elevator. When the doors open, I step inside, hit 25 and lean against the railing, still breathing heavy from my vigorous workout. Just as the doors begin to close, I hear high heels clicking fast across the marble floor and a hand shoots out to stop the door from closing.
I hit the Door Open button and wait for the female passenger to step inside.
My pulse speeds up when I see it’s Ashley who hurries inside. “Thanks,” she says and smiles. But, then she stiffens when she sees me and the smile wilts right on her luscious lips. “Oh.”
Oh? What the hell does that mean? I never saw any woman look at me with that much disappointment. Well, except Tabitha.
The door slides shut and suddenly it’s just the two of us. In a very small space.
I uncap the bottled water, take a long swig and can feel her eyes on me. I look over and raise a brow. I don’t know what she’s looking at, but she quickly glances away, clearly uncomfortable.
This is the longest 25 floors in the history of elevator rides and the silence between us hangs heavy.
When her powdery-vanilla perfume reaches my nose, I breathe deeply. I can’t help it. She smells so goddamn good. I take another drink of water, finish it, and then crush the plastic bottle in my hands.
I won’t let this frustration get the best of me.
This girl is no different from any other. Just another pretty, young thing and somehow she’s bewitched me.
Maybe you just need to get her out of your system, a little voice says. Fuck her and get it over with already.
No. She works for me and I do not mix business and pleasure. Ever.
“I got your lunch,” she says.
“What?” I snap.
She raises the brown bag in her hands. “Your lunch.” She emphasizes each word like I’m a complete idiot.
I look at it and nod. “Thanks.” She’s still holding it up so I reach out and take it. I don’t even remember what I wanted. Every time I’m around this girl, my mind starts to whirl like I’m on a carnival ride.
The floors crawl by and I start to feel trapped. I look up from the brown bag and crushed water bottle in my hand and our eyes meet. I don’t look away and find myself staring into those sea-blue eyes of hers for a long, torturous moment that seems to go on and on.
The strange thing is, she holds my gaze.
I wonder what she would do if I step closer, close the gap between us and pin her against the wall. Move my hard body up against her soft curves, run my hands up to cup her face and then kiss her senseless.
Would she respond with the same heat I’m feeling? Wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me back? Whisper naughty things in my ear?
Ding. The elevator door glides open and it takes a moment for either of us to move. Just as the door begins to close again, I throw a hand out and stop it. I give a curt nod, holding it open for her, and she hurries past me. She doesn’t wait. Just races back to her desk as quickly as possible.
Oh, God, it’s going to be a long afternoon, I think and walk into the office.
After a quick, ice-cold shower, I sit down at my desk, starving, and pull out the contents in the brown bag. What is this shit? I lift out a leaky container of what looks like cold, brown mush and then unwrap some kind of vegan-looking, fake pita pocket that spills green sprouts and brown seeds.
“Ashley!” I yell.
She appears in the doorway. “Yes?”
“What the hell is this?” I ask and nod at the disgusting food. And, I use the word “food” loosely.
With a frown, she walks over and peers down. “That’s not right,” she says. “I ordered you a Cobb salad and soup, like you wanted.”
“So, where is it?”
“I guess they mixed up the order.”
“Why didn’t you check?”
“Sorry. Do you want me to go back?”
I sigh, completely annoyed. This is the kind of inept bullshit that irks me. “No,” I bark. “I’ll just sit here and starve.”
She opens her mouth to say something then promptly closes it.
“I thought I made it clear that I hate incompetence,” I growl and drop the food in the trash bin. “How hard is it to double check a lunch order?”
Her sea-colored eyes turn greener, like the emerald ocean depths, and snap fire at me. “I’m sorry,” she forces out through gritted teeth.
“Don’t be sorry. Be competent.”
“I am competent,” she flings back.
My eyes narrow. I haven’t seen this feisty side of her and, I’m not going to lie, it kind of turns me on. I wonder how far she’ll go? How sassy she’ll get? I decide to push her. “Your actions show otherwise, Miss Monroe. If I knew you were going to be such a half-ass assistant, I never would’ve hired you. Carson Industries has the highest standards and I suggest you rise to meet them or go work somewhere less challenging.”
Just when I think I went a little too far (God forbid, she burst into tears and run out), she surprises me again.
“I’d hardly say babysitting you all day is challenging, Mr. Carson,” she hisses then turns on her fucking high heels and walks out.
A half-smile tugs at my mouth and heat spreads through my groin. Then, I feel myself get pissed off all over again. I stand up, reach my door in three, long, angry strides, send a death-stare at Ashley who now primly sits behind her desk, and I throw the door shut with all of my might. Back at my desk, I point the remote at the blinds and close them.
My stomach growls and I reach into my desk and pull out a granola bar. Fucking oatmeal raisin because the order for the peanut butter ones didn’t come yet. I tear the wrapper off and sink my teeth into it.
Wishing like hell that I was sinking something else into the surprisingly feisty Miss Ashley Monroe.
Chapter Seventeen
Ashley
Half-ass assistant!
What a dick, I think, as I open my pudding and scoop some out. I glare over at the closed blinds, happy that I don’t have to look at his grumpy face. Who does he think he is, anyway?
I’ll just sit here and starve, he said.
Good, I hope you do. Like it would have killed him to eat the food the restaurant accidentally gave me. What a baby.
I toss the empty container in the trash and reapply my lip gloss. Working for Drew Carson is enough to give anyone an ulcer. Nothing is ever right or good enough and he stomps around the office all day like a pouty little boy.