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let him shake my spirit. And underneath
it all, if I walked away with his approval, I’d get that validation I always
wanted from him. That feeling of wanting him to like me had never really gone
away.

 
    My stomach rumbled a bit as I realized
I’d forgotten to each lunch that day. I’d been so immersed in the Johnston
account that the afternoon flew by without warning. I picked up my phone to
search for some local food delivery places and settled on some Italian deli up
the street.

 
    Before my fingers had a chance to dial
the number, I sat my phone down on my desk and marched into Mr. Woodfield’s office.

 
    “I’m about to order myself some dinner,”
I said as I rapped lightly on his door. His back was towards me until he spun
around at the sound of my voice. “Would you like something?”

 
    He eyes studied me up and down, instantly
making me uncomfortable, but I was sure he didn’t realize he was doing it. I’d
only been around him for a day, but sometimes it felt like he was undressing me
with his eyes. He probably thought I didn’t notice, but I noticed it all. I
just pretended not to.

 
    I flashed a sweet smile to try to make up
for the nasty thoughts that were floating around in my head about him and
prayed he couldn’t sense how crazy attracted I still was to him. I couldn’t
deny the fact that he was smoking hot. His dark hair was so perfectly combed,
thick, and lush. His peaches and cream complexion was flawless. His square jaw,
the way it flexed when he was deep in thought, was the epitome of manly. His
frozen blue eyes burned into mine anytime we were in the same room together,
and those full, flushed lips of his were begging to be kissed.

 
    Stop
it, Mirabelle. He’s basically your stepbrother! And now he’s your boss!

 
    “Are you hungry?” I asked him after he’d
ignored my question. He was still staring at me. “I thought I’d get something
from the Italian deli up the street. I’m going to order here in a minute, so…”

 
    “Um, sure,” he said after he’d thought
about it a little too long. He grabbed a piece of paper and began scribbling
something down before hanging his hand out for me to retrieve it.

 
    “I’ll let you know when it’s here,” I
said as I took his order and went back to my office. His handwriting was
impeccable, a little too neat, which totally went with his Type A personality,
and judging by his very specific order, capicola ham
and prosciutto with buffalo mozzarella and sundried tomatoes on ancient grains
wheat bread, he was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

 
 
 
 
 

 
 
SIX

 
 
 
    PRESTON

 
 
 
    “Dinner’s here,” Mirabelle said as she
barged into my office with two brown bags in her delicate, manicured hands.

 
    I opened my mouth to chide her for not
knocking and then stopped myself. “Thank you.”

 
    She sat my bag on my desk and then took a
seat across from me. “I hope you don’t mind if I eat with you? It gets kind of
lonely in that great big office all by myself.”

 
    “You get used to it,” I said, watching as
she unwrapped the plastic from her sandwich.

 
    We sat, eating in silence, as the sun set over the city and my office grew dim. The light from
my table lamp illuminated the space around us until Mirabelle’s soft features
were cast in a romantic glow.

 
    “I better get back to work,” she said as
she wrapped up her trash and put it in her brown bag. She stuck out her hand to
take mine too. “You usually stay here pretty late?”

 
    I nodded as I caught myself staring at
her big, doe eyes once again, trying to avoid looking at anything below her
neck.

 
    “Don’t stay too late,” I said as she
strutted out. Her hips swayed just enough to make me bite my lip and want to
rip off all of her clothes. I had to get out of there soon. A cold shower was
in order.

 
    The last time I got caught up in a
gorgeous woman, things had gone south quickly.