Page 3 of Not Safe for Work
She was staring at him by the time he finished.
But she quickly glanced away when he turned to her.
“I can’t imagine why you would accept this position if he treats you so terribly,” she said, face as set as she could make it, eyes on her iPad.
“It’s interesting that you would use the word terribly, when I said annoying.”
“So you’re trying to trap me. This is a test of some kind.”
“Only the personal assistant of Thomas Hartford would ever believe this was some sort of test. It’s just so exactly the kind of thing he would do, to make sure someone was loyal.”
“I am loyal. I would never express discontent in so unprofessional a manner.”
She looked back at him, defiant.
Then immediately wished she hadn’t.
“I’m already aware of that, Ms. Elliot,” he said, voice as soft and gentle as any man could make it. “I can see clearly that you follow all of his rules and guidelines down to the letter.”
“You know about his rules and guidelines in that much detail?”
“Of course I do. He made me follow them, too, once upon a time.”
She didn’t know what to say after that. She was too taken aback.
And by the time a question occurred to her, he was on to a different subject altogether. He wanted to know about the layout of the floor they were on, and the reason people were working in the marketing department on a Saturday. Then it was all about his office. Little things, like how the intercom worked and whether he could have a certain filing system implemented. And bigger questions followed, such as an assistant he would soon be hiring, and whether she could schedule meetings for him over the next week.
He even let her show him her carefully constructed presentations.
Then came back the next day so she could make introductions with various staff.
In fact, by the time it was Sunday evening, she had almost forgotten the strange conversation in the elevator. Her head was far too full of other things, scary things, like how incredibly attractive he was. That glorious hair, as thick and glossy as the leaves on rubber trees. And those eyes—too lovely and liquid to look at directly without falling in.
Not to mention how patient and diligent he could be.
Or how it felt when he just casually touched her hand, as he said the most solicitous things. He inquired about her life without so much as a prompting. He asked her completely irrelevant questions, like what book she was reading at the moment or what she wanted to have for dinner.
It was amazing and unsettling in the most mysterious ways.
And those amazing and unsettling feelings only got worse once they were in his office Sunday evening watching the sun slowly set over the city. The light was getting low and his arm was too close to hers. He had just asked her if she had any last questions she wanted to ask.
It wasn’t a surprise when his question from the elevator came rushing back to her.
By that point it was like having a tsunami inside her, kept back by little more than a thin cardboard wall. One tap from him and it would fall down.
“Did he really make you follow all of his rules?” she asked.
And suddenly the light in those black eyes was different.
Brighter. More mischievous.
“Have you been thinking about that since I said it?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
“It can’t be all three.”
“Yes, then. Yes, of course I have.”
