Please (Please #1) Page 6

  Some things just weren’t fair.

  I was just about to lock my screen and search for a notepad when an instant message popped up.

  Hunter Carlisle: Good morning.

  “Good God!” I yanked my hands away from the keyboard as though his head had popped out of the screen like a poltergeist.

  “You okay?” Brenda asked, walking toward my desk with two coffee mugs. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d left.

  “Oh yeah. Sure. Ha.” I leaned toward the computer. Hopefully she’d lose interest in my ridiculousness if she thought I was working. Regardless that I had nothing to work on.

  Olivia Jonston: Hi.

  Olivia Jonston: Good morning.

  Hunter Carlisle: When you have a chance, come in here.

  Olivia Jonston: Yes, sir.

  “Here you go.” Brenda set a full cup of coffee down in front of me.

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  She gave me another tight smile. “That’s for Mr. Carlisle. One of your duties is to take him coffee. I get him a cup when I refill mine, and his assistant takes it in.”

  “Oh.” I wanted to ask why we needed an assembly line for a cup of coffee, but thought better of it. I didn’t need to get fired on my first day.

  I grabbed a notepad and pen, and then the cup. “Great.”

  Walking into his office, nervousness ate away my insides. My new boss sat behind his desk, broad and handsome. His face was set in a stern mask as he typed, completely focused on his task.

  I stopped at the edge of his desk and held out his coffee. “Brenda wanted me to give you this…”

  He glanced up. Those sexy eyes took me in for a brief moment before noticing the mug. “Just put it down and have a seat.”

  His desk had three neat piles of paper, a few items that I’d previously knocked to the ground, and his computer stuff.

  I eyed the legs of the visitor chairs. Knowing me, I’d be distracted by something, trip on one of those chair legs, and dowse his desk with coffee. Bad idea. Taking the safe way out, I put his mug on the corner where it was likely to do the least amount of damage. Then I sat down.

  “I wanted to explain the loose structure of this office,” he started, clicking his mouse before turning to me. “You, as the administrative assistant, report to me. I will give you instruction directly, or I will pass you off to Brenda, who is my executive assistant, for instruction. At the moment, you two are not equal. She has years of experience working with me, and knows her job inside and out. In the future, if you get to grips with your job, and take on more, I’m sure you two will level out. That’s my hope, anyway. Regardless, you’re both integral to this operation, and you are both—or will be—on an equal footing as far as I am concerned. Is that clear?”

  I tapped my notebook with the tip of my pen and frowned. “Yes.” Seemed pretty logical so far.

  “What’s the problem?”

  My brows shot up and my eyes widened. I stammered, “N-nothing.”

  “Did your frown mean you have a problem with answering to Brenda?”

  I felt like I’d been caught stealing. “Not at all, no! The delivery was just so heavy-handed. She has a higher title, so the fact that we’d eventually be equal was unexpected.”

  His shoulders relaxed just a little. “I’ve had problems with admins treating Brenda as a subservient member of my staff. I don’t want that to happen with you.”

  I bobbed my head in understanding.

  “Today you’ll be doing menial tasks—copying, filing, getting coffee.”

  “Great.” I quietly tapped my pen. I was getting a huge paycheck—I’d shine Brenda’s boots if he wanted me to.

  “Brenda has a list for you to do, and you can address any questions to her. When you’re finished, check in here again. I’ll have something for you.”

  “Okey-dokey.”

  “Questions?”

  “Nope. I think I got it.”

  He looked at me silently. I felt the heat rush to my face before spreading through my body, basking in that sexy look of hooded, smoldering eyes. If I’d signed that contract, he could ask me to stand right now, lean over the desk, and—

  “Are you okay?”

  “What?” I stood in a rush, clutching the notepad to my chest. “Sorry. Is that all?”

  He continued to stare. Apparently his “you’re excused” was a silent one.

  “So…no, then.” I paused in a half-turn to indicate I was leaving, just to be sure. His face didn’t so much as twitch.

  “Right,” I mumbled as I finished the turn with a hot face. A “goodbye,” or even “get out,” wouldn’t go amiss. It would cut down on the time I spent remembering his hard body pressed against mine. Or my crazy yet insistent desire to have him take me right there.

  What have I done taking this job?

  It turned out Brenda’s “list” was three sheets of paper filled with menial tasks. She showed me where the copy machine was, pointed out the conference room, and then gave me a quick tour of the kitchen. Being at the top of the building, the floor was more a suite than anything, and we were the only people in it. It made things a lot quieter than I expected.

  After I finished the first task of making copies, I carried the stack of desecrated trees to Brenda. I couldn’t help an offhanded comment about digital files. It would save so much time.

  I could tell her first impulse was to ignore me. I wouldn’t have minded—my mother had made an art out of ignoring me, so I was used to it. As she took the gigantic stack, though, she slowed. Thoughtfully, she looked at me over her glasses. “Digital files, huh? What would be involved in that?”

  My confusion was probably written all over my face. “You mean… Like… Sorry, what do you mean? Like how do you do it?”

  Brenda dropped the stack next to the file cabinets and straightened up, surveying me. “You said it would save time…?”

  “Well…yeah.” I cocked a hip. I felt like we were speaking a different language. My education had led me to believe this was common knowledge. “I mean, you have to scan it if it isn’t already a digital file, which is largely the same as copying it, but you can do that right to the file, right? And then, after that, you just…have it in a file.”

  “But we’d both need access…” She let her words linger.

  “So, yeah, you just label it, put it in a file we both have access to on the public drive so the company has a backup, and Bob’s your uncle. No more filing by hand.”

  “Hmm.” Brenda wrote something down on a Post-it. “You just gave yourself something to do.”

  I nearly sighed. I should’ve expected that. Talk about menial, mind-numbing tasks…

  At five o’clock, after I’d crossed off the last of Brenda’s wish list, I dragged myself into Hunter’s office. My mind was numb, it felt like drool coated the side of my face, and my eyes were sandy with fatigue. As I approached Hunter’s desk, I noticed the last cup of coffee I had brought him sat untouched at the corner of his desk.

  A slight frown creased Hunter’s features as he absently chewed on the end of a pen. My gaze dipped to those lush lips, parted slightly to allow in the black plastic.

  “Sir,” I said softly, my gaze moving to the light stubble on his chin.

  His face shifted, drawing my stare to his eyes. His frown cleared and fatigue took its place. “Yes. Olivia.”

  I continued to stare, hypnotized by those entrancing, smoldering eyes. They looked like he’d just walked out of a bedroom where a satisfied woman lay dozing.

  “Olivia?”

  “Oh.” I shook myself out of my stupor. “Sorry. I haven’t used my brain much today. It hasn’t come back online yet.”

  He fell back into his seat. The dwindling light glowed through the windows behind him. He glanced at his computer. Light surprise lit up his features. “It’s late—you took much longer than I expected to get through Brenda’s list…”

  I scoffed. “I added work without meaning to.”

  His brows climbed in a
question. I elaborated: “I recommended a couple things that would save time in the long run. Unfortunately, it also wasted—um, took my time today to set up.”

  “Such as?”

  “Electronic filing, rearranging some spreadsheets, a more effective mailing list—rudimentary things like that.”

  “Did you eat lunch?”

  “Huh?” I couldn’t keep up with the quick change in topic.

  “Did you eat lunch?” he asked again, rising.

  “No?”

  “You’re not sure?” There was a smile in his voice as he shrugged into his jacket.

  I watched the play of muscle across his shoulders. If I signed that contract I’d be able to see those without his shirt, I’d bet…

  “C’mon. I’ll buy you dinner,” he said, hopefully not noticing the hunger in my eyes. His hand found the small of my back as he guided me out of the office.

  Without thinking, I leaned into the touch. Into his heat. His delicious smell, of expensive cologne mixed with masculinity, wound around my senses. His muscle moved against my side, so hard.

  My body lit up. My core pooled fire. I wanted to stop and turn to him. To run my hands up his chest before stripping away his shirt.

  Get a grip!

  In desperation, I peeled myself from his side. “Excuse me,” I said in a breathy voice. “My brain is on hiatus.”

  “It’s no problem.” His voice sounded husky. Deeper. I took his hand away.

  I wiped my forehead as we entered the elevator, willing my soggy brain to get in gear and stop letting my libido have control. At this rate, I’d commit a cardinal sin by the end of the week!

  When we emerged into the encroaching night outside the building, his hand found the small of my back again. Strangely, his firm touch felt comfortable. Safe and reassuring. It felt the exact opposite of what he really was. I couldn’t move away.

  He steered me across the street and down the block to a busy Italian eatery. We stopped in front of the opened door. A small crowd of people waited just inside at the hostess desk. A couple of groups lined the front of the building, no doubt waiting for their table.

  “Looks packed,” I said.

  Hunter didn’t acknowledge my words. Instead, he steered me through the door and stepped around the small hostess podium into the space of the young woman. Her eyes flashed and a smile curled her lips when she saw him. After saying a few words, which were lost to the buzz of the restaurant, he stepped back.

  “Five minutes,” he said when he rejoined me. The hostess’ gaze had followed him, the smile being replaced with a scowl as his hand resumed its position on my back. “Would you like to wait outside?”

  “But what about everyone else?” I asked quietly.

  He barely glanced around as he steered me outside. He loosened his tie, not hiding a tired sigh.

  “Long day?” I asked, once again standing too close. I couldn’t help it.

  “We have a possible merger on the table. There are a lot of moving parts and long-term effects.”

  “Not buying a company, but a merger?” I crossed my arms, aware that a group of three women were sending us furtive glances. My faded black skirt and out-of-style blouse didn’t fit with this upscale crowd.

  “Yes, exactly. I have an eye on a buyout that would negate the merger, and be better for the company long-term, but my competition is…steep. The board is less than thrilled.”

  “Oh. Mhm.” I didn’t have the brainpower for business-speak. I needed a sandwich.

  “Mr. Carlisle?” The hostess stepped out of the restaurant and flashed Hunter a stunning smile. “We’re ready for you.”

  The hostess gave us menus as we sat down, flashed another winning smile that Hunter ignored, and moved away.

  Hunter pushed his menu to the side. “How was your first day?”

  “Good. Okay.” I glanced down at the menu and tried not to show my shock that a ravioli dish went for thirty-five dollars. No way was it worth that much.

  I pushed the menu to the side, only then noticing Hunter staring at me. “A little boring,” I finally admitted.

  “Tomorrow we’ll get you started on some other things,” he said in an easy tone.

  The waiter showed up to take our orders. When he was gone, Hunter’s fixed look traveled over my face. Uneasiness crossed his visage before he looked away to the side, seemingly at the window across the restaurant.

  Not wanting to sit in silence, I reached for small talk. “How long have you been CEO?”

  “Two years.”

  “And before that?”

  “I graduated at twenty and was placed in a junior vice president position by my father.” His tone grew hard. He looked away to the distant window again. “In my situation, you would’ve rejected his handout, I’m sure, but I knew he was the fastest way to the top. From there, I leveraged various achievements and positions until I fought for the job I have. They worried about placing someone so young—for good reason, of course. And my decisions, which are generally thought extremely progressive, are constantly questioned.”

  “You graduated college early.”

  Hunter’s head snapped back as his look colored with confusion and humor both. He gave a light snort as the waiter delivered two glasses of wine. I had no idea what was funny. “Yes. I was homeschooled through high school and entered college a couple years early.”

  “Wow. Smart.” I bobbed my head. “If my mom had turned up a week ago offering me a job or money, I would’ve had my hand out so fast it’d fly off my wrist.”

  I took a sip of my wine. “Oh, that’s good.” I swirled the liquid in my glass as he tasted his. I searched my brain for something to talk about. I knew absolutely nothing about this guy. I didn’t even know where to start. “So, how about those Niners, huh? New stadium. You been?”

  His lips tweaked upward. “I have, yes, but they are on a losing streak.”

  “Oh.” I took another sip of my wine, unperturbed. “That’s a waste of a new stadium, then.”

  “So it would seem.”

  I mimicked a stuffy English accent. “Yes, yes. Quite.” I did a little facial gymnastics for no real reason other than he wouldn’t stop staring. It seemed no one had informed him how rude that was. “You a big sports buff?”

  “Not really. I catch the important games, but don’t have a vested interest in who wins.”

  “Business related, huh? Have to schmooze with the execs?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  I nodded, glancing around. “You come here often?”

  Before he could answer, the food showed up, carried by a bustling waiter.

  “Oh. That was fast,” I mumbled, leaning back so my plate could be placed in front of me.

  “This establishment is known for their speedy turnaround time. With a mostly business clientele, they need to keep things moving.”

  I sampled my ravioli, and then moaned as the interesting and distinct flavors rolled around in my mouth. I ate another, sitting back in my chair and savoring the delicious dish. I’d been as good as dieting for the last four months, eating cheap and light, trying to save money. This was a treat I didn’t want to ruin with social etiquette.

  Only after I was halfway through did I come out of my food fog.

  “Wow.” I landed a direct stare at Hunter. He had been watching me with that crease between his eyebrows. It seemed my level of crazy didn’t turn up in his background checks. “This is something special.”

  “Yes.” A smile threatened his shapely lips. He looked down at his dish. “They are consistently above par.”

  “You can say that again.” I watched him cut a piece of steak. “Bite?”

  His fork paused next to his mouth.

  I continued to stare expectantly.

  “Of my…” His hand jerked and the cutest expression came over his face. He looked like a young boy who’d been bedazzled by a strange neighborhood girl—off-kilter and a little terrified.

  The bite on the end of his fork hovere
d for a moment before drifting across the table. His eyes were sparkling and the edge of his lips quirked, threatening a smile. Apparently not many people forced him to share.

  I reached for the fork, but he pulled back a little, clearly staking his claim on the utensil. He probably thought I would refuse to give it back until I’d eaten all his dinner. He was probably right.

  I leaned forward with my mouth open, letting him deposit the morsel on my tongue. The sauce flirted with my taste buds immediately, and then exploded in my mouth as I chewed the steak.

  “Ooo mmm guud,” I said with a mouthful. I rolled my eyes and leaned back, chewing with delight. After I swallowed, I smiled at him. “So good.”

  He dropped his hand to the table. “Do you want another?”

  I gave him a sheepish smile. “No, I have mine. Want a bite?”

  His immediate reaction was to shake his head, but he hadn’t looked away. That indicated curiosity. Cue food pushing.

  I speared a ravioli and shoved it through the air. “Try it. Seriously. You won’t regret it.”

  He glanced around the restaurant before looking back at me. His brows settled low over his eyes. He didn’t lean forward.

  “Have you had this dish before?” I asked, pushing the fork forward just a bit farther.

  His look intensified, uncomfortable and wary at the same time. I almost relented, but something made me keep my hand out. Made me keep pushing. He always seemed so controlled. So boxed in. I wanted him to be unsettled like he always made me, and I knew I could because I wasn’t under his control like all the other admins. I was the wild card.

  “C’mon, live a little.” I wiggled my fork.

  Without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward and closed his mouth over the bite. His lips slid along the fork slowly, drawing my eyes. My mind started buzzing as I homed in on the little bit of orange at the corner of his mouth. Everything in my person wanted to lick it off before fastening my lips to his in a needy taste.

  One of my shoulders ticked upward. I had no idea why, other than my body was uncomfortably tight. I felt another hot flash coming on.