Page 22 of His Temptation
The way he’s looking down at me makes me feel like the entire room is electrically charged. I’m sure it’s just me. There’s no way this wealthy, powerful man could be affected by someone like me.
“I worked in the men’s occasion wear department at Saks Fifth Avenue for a year. I figured you would’ve remembered since you were so impressed with my résumé.”
He smirks at me. “I guess that work experience of yours is more valuable than I originally realized.”
“Maybe you should adjust your requirements for your assistant.”
He huffs out a laugh. It is quiet but undeniable. It rumbles from deep in his chest. My stomach does a somersault. Mr. Monroe laughing in a tuxedo should be illegal.
“Done,” I whisper, but neither of us moves.
The bow tie may be perfect, but the charged silence that hangs in the room is anything but resolved.
10
LINCOLN
Just before I get out of my car, my phone rings. My mother. Again. I don’t know how many times I have to ignore her for her to get the message. I don’t talk to my family much anymore. Maybe the occasional stop in for a special occasion to show my gratitude for them keeping me alive when I was a kid. Other than that, I don’t have much to be grateful for where they are concerned.
I walk into the sports complex for a much-needed game of basketball. The guys are sitting on the bleachers as they tie their shoes. I throw my bag next to Sawyer on one of the bleachers.
“Hey, man.” He slaps me on the back. “Sorry I missed you the other day. I wish I were there to celebrate your success. Two months with the same assistant is big for you.”
Just the mention of her …
God, what the hell is going on with me? I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. The reaction I had to her fingers on me when she was doing something as simple as tying my tie … whatever Ifelt between the two of us when she got that close was completely foreign to me.
I’m sure it’s just some perverse effect from all the talking back to me she seems to do these days. It’s like I’ve never been challenged, and my body seems to like it. Maybe I need to find a woman who challenges me. That’ll fix everything.
The only problem is that all the other women in the city just try to please me. All they see are a bunch of dollar signs and the lavish lifestyle I can offer them.
I lace up my sneakers and grab a ball. On the court, we shoot around together to warm up on our side while the other team does the same on the opposite end of the court.
I focus on my form as I jump and let go of the ball at the perfect moment, watching it hit the rim, then bounce in. There are six of us guys who play together, but only five play at a time. That works for us. We’re not as young as we once were, and basketball is a strenuous sport. We rotate who sits out and catches their breath before going back in the game.
Dean sets up next to me and takes a shot. He was also not able to make it to my office the other day. I’m waiting for a comment that I know is coming.
“You know, I missed being at your office for the celebration, but I was there at the club that night. That woman has a body I’d kill to get my hands on.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I take my basketball and hurl it into his stomach. He falls over as he releases a guttural groan.
“What the fuck was that for?” he whimpers in pain.
I don’t back down. Instead, I walk closer to him and meet him face-to-face, only inches apart. “Talk about my assistant like that again, and you will regret it.”
I think I’ve scared him. I’ve shown him just what will happen to him if he utters those words ever again, but I’m wrong.
He smiles at me and arches his eyebrow. “Hey, fellas. I think our man has caught some feelings for his assistant.”
Walker doesn’t miss a beat. He concentrates on his shot while replying, “Oh, I know. I saw it the moment we walked into the office, and he gave us the death stare while we flirted with her.”
His shot goes in, and then he turns to me and winks. My blood is boiling at his admission of flirting with her. I knew it. I knew he was looking at her a little too fondly.
Once the game starts, we shake hands with the other guys. All successful businessmen in the city, looking for a way to blow off some steam.
Halfway into the game, we’re up by eight, and Walker fakes a pass to me before he takes a layup straight to the basket and sinks the ball.
“That’s why I’m the best. What’s your excuse, Lincoln? Too distracted, thinking about your assistant?”
