Working It Read Online Free PDF Page A

vaguely reminiscent of a lap dog in heat.
    “Chill. It was low key, Fiona. I was back here, in bed alone, by eleven. I couldn’t sleep worth shit, but I was here.”
    “Okay.” Fiona sighed. “If you say it wasn’t a big deal, it wasn’t. End of story.”
    It sounded like Fiona was jealous that he’d hung out with a woman, and I knew she had issues with estrogen, but that couldn’t be it, could it? Surely Ben was allowed to hang out with whomever he wanted. I couldn’t resist peeking farther around the corner.
    They stood in the center of her bedroom in front of the bed. Fiona had changed and was smartly dressed in a fitted black lace top and cream skirt. In contrast, I was frazzled, greasy, and still dressed in yesterday’s wrinkled clothes. Ben, of course, looked like a walking orgasm, wearing dark fitted jeans and a black tee that showed off his muscular physique. His jaw was unshaven and his deep-set gaze was locked on Fiona’s, exuding his dark boyish charm. Good Lord, did that man know how to work it.
    Fiona’s back was to me, and I watched as she placed her open palm on his chest and gave it a gentle pat. “I’m over it, love. I’m here now and this season is going to be terrific.”
    Ben’s features visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping as if her words held the power to soothe him. Just then, his eyes flicked to mine and he took a step back from Fiona, his expression weary.
    “Excuse me, Miss Stone?” I found my voice, knowing I’d been discovered eavesdropping.
    Fiona whirled around on her four-inch Prada stilettos. “Oh, Emerson. There you are.” Her voice was laced with sour frustration and held none of the sugary sweetness reserved just for Ben. “Took you long enough. Good thing I had my carry-on.”
    She started toward me, seemingly annoyed by my interruption but acting as though being reunited with her precious luggage was the best thing that’d ever happened to her. Ben followed and they both joined me in the living room.
    “Ben, this is my new assistant, Emerson Clarke,” she introduced me, waving an absent hand in my direction.
    Ben’s large hand reached out for mine.
    “Emmy,” I added, placing my palm against his. A jolt of heat at the contact of his skin made me shudder.
    Ben stared at me with an unreadable expression. Maybe he’d forgotten me.
    “Blueberry Muffin Girl.” He smiled. “Burn all healed up?”
    “Oh, it was nothing. I’m fine.” Why couldn’t he have forgotten that disastrous first time we met?
    “Where’s my garment bag?” Fiona asked, pulling my attention away from Ben’s deep hazel gaze.
    “Your what?”
    Hands anchored on her hips, she stood surveying the four large brown monogrammed suitcases with a frown. “I had a hanging bag of gowns. It’s not here.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about the garment bag, but I can call the airport and arrange for it to be delivered.”
    Fiona grabbed the smallest suitcase, heaving it past me so I had to jump out of her path to avoid being knocked over. Ben steadied me as I shuffled closer to him. His warm hand closed around my elbow, sending heat zipping up my arm at the contact. Whoa .
    Realizing my conversation with Fiona was over, and still standing open-mouthed staring at Ben, I mumbled an apology and fled through the door.

Ben
    Fiona had only just arrived and she was already exhausting me. It was going to be a long damn season if she pulled that jealous pouty act every time I talked to a female. Christ. And speaking of females, I hadn’t been expecting to see her sweet little assistant. That was an interesting turn of events. Honestly, I was kind of amazed.
    Fiona changed assistants more often than most people changed their underwear. And after the debacle at her office the other day—mistakenly calling me in and then shattering that teacup—it was a shocker she was still employed. Not to mention she was cute. Another strike against her. Fiona liked to be the best-looking woman in the room and