Page 38 of The Date

There’s no mistaking the desire simmering between us. This mutual attraction is becoming harder and harder to control, especially when the corner of his mouth lifts into that slow, knowing smirk that makes me want to forget we’re in the middle of the office.

He stops beside my desk, and the scent of his masculine cologne invades my senses, turning my brain cells to mush. “Good morning, Rose.” And Jesus Christ, just the sound of his deep baritone voice does things to me and my lady parts. “Can you grab the Jenkins file and bring it into my office, please?”

I swallow, suddenly conscious of Callum standing beside him. “Of course.” My voice is higher than I would’ve liked.

Bronson’s eyes drop briefly to my lips before lifting back to mine, and that move sends another shiver through me. Callum clears his throat. “Am I interrupting something here?” We both look at him, and he raises his hands with a cheeky grin. “Because I’m suddenly feeling like a voyeur, and frankly, I didn’t consent to this.”

Bronson lets out a low chuckle. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not staring at my employee like I’m trying to decide whether to kiss her or add her to the lunch menu.”

My mouth falls open.

Bronson clears his throat and takes a step back, as though Callum has somehow managed to read his mind. “You’re clearly seeing things that aren’t there,” he says before turning and heading into his office.

Callum gives me a cheeky wink as he spins on his heel and follows. I watch them disappear, my cheeks still burning as I push myself out of my chair and head towards the filing cabinet to retrieve the Jenkins file.

By the time I make it into Bronson’s office, I feel like a newborn foal trying to find its feet. When did walking become such a complicated activity? I’ve been doing it successfully for most of my life, so why does the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other suddenly require so much concentration?

I blame Bronson. And possibly my lady parts. They’re clearly conspiring against me.

I can feel all eyes on me as I approach his desk, but I keep my gaze fixed on the file in my hand, concentrating hard so I don’t trip over my own feet and go arse over tit.

I hear Callum chuckle as I drop the file onto the polished wood surface, turn and hightail it out of there. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole by the time I’m seated behind my desk.

My phone dings a few seconds later, and my first thought is that it’s from Not-Brendan, demanding to know what the hell that was, but it’s a message from Violet instead.

Violet: I got another note. I found it on the windshield of my car this morning, wedged behind the wiper.

The second text is a screenshot of said pink note.

Roses are red, violets are blue,

You might want to start watching who’s watching you.

I grimace when I read it.

Me: That could be interpreted two ways, but it’s still kind of creepy.

Violet: I know. It was on my windscreen, Rose. In my driveway. They know where I live!!!

Me: Should we tell your brother? Or notify the Police?

Violet: I don’t know what to do. Should I be scared?

Me: Honestly, I’m not sure.

Me: At the very least, you should be vigilant.

Violet: Ah, fuck. Why do I always attract the weirdos?

Me: How so?

Violet: Well, there was the guy I dated at uni who thought he was a vampire.

Me: A vampire?

Violet: Yep. He even slept in a coffin.