Page 7 of A Father's Bliss

He shakes his head, rising to meet me at the door and reaches for the knob. The close proximity causes his earthly scent to invade my airway and the scatter of goosebumps floods my covered arms. But in the next second, I realize how sad it makes me that Harrison isn’t doing anything with his father. Not that it’s a surprise, but still. I feel the strong desire to make sure he doessomething.

“No dinner plans?”

“I mean, I’m going to grab takeout from one of my favorite restaurants.” His breath is minty and I wonder vaguely if it’s from a mint or gum.

“Alone?”

This grants me a crack of a smile. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No. I mean, kind of. It’s Father’s Day.”

He releases a huff from his nose. “My son is an adult. There’s no need for him to take me out to eat.”

“Then let me.” The words come out before I can stop them, and a wave of nerves makes the fine hairs on my neck stand.I’m not a shy person, and have never had a problem with asking anyone out, but this is different. Not only is he a coworker, but several other forbidden things, and also someone I still have a slight crush on.

I shake my head, quick to try and smooth things out. “All business, of course. We could even discuss the projects you’re looking for in more detail.”

His eyes rove over my face momentarily, leaving me suspended while holding my breath until finally he answers. “I’d love to have dinner with you. Professionally or otherwise.”

The air I still haven’t sucked in thins and becomes at least ten degrees hotter. But when Marcus’s face remains serious and unchanged, I start to wonder if I imagined that last part. “Alright. I can run home and change?—”

Marcus’s eyebrows furrow. “What you have on is fine. Perfect, even.”

My gaze flickers down to my white silk cami, cream cardigan, and floral skirt. It’s dinner appropriate alright, but the lace underwear set beneath, not so much. I was feeling sexy this morning, and now, it’s too thin, too exposing. And even if he has no intentions of seeing it,Iknow what I have on and something about that makes this dinner more…intimate.

I open my mouth to insist but stop short when I remember yet another dilemma.The toys.

Troy and I had ventured off during our extended coffee break earlier today and visited a new sex shop not too far from work. I couldn’t resist the jeweled butt plug or the purple rose. Oh, shit, and the mermaid metallic tentacle dildo. They are all in my purse, which can definitely be seen if it opens even a little. I should probably drop those off.

“Perhaps another time.” Marcus, likely sensing my apprehension, begins to open the door. I’m quick to pivot,coming so close, a large inhale would have my chest brushing against his.

The air stalls in my lungs as I look up at him—at least six inches up even with my heels—and endure the full power of his dark gaze. We stand like this for no more than a second before his eyes drop, falling to my lips and then back to me before I have time to ensure it even happened.

“No.” My voice is breathy. “We’re going.”

The whisper of a smirk appears and in this moment I’d let this man do nasty things to me, circumstances be damned. “Very well. I’ll gather my things and meet you in…”

He trails off, and when his eyes drift to the clock on the wall, I take my first breath.

“One minute.”

I try to laugh, but it gets caught in my throat. It’s then I realize how fucking dry it is.

What the hell is wrong with me? It has to be because he’s so close. He’s short circuiting my wittiness. Which, I think should be a red flag, but I’ll figure that out later. Hindsight and all.

“Great. I’ll meet you there.”

For another breath we stand, just a few inches apart until finally he backs away, allowing me space to exit. Yet, like a complete dumb ass, I stay, heels cemented in place, my eyes locked on him as he takes another broad step. It isn't until I blink—yes, until I fucking blink—that I come through and realize how much of an idiot, weirdo, or both I must appear to him, and he’s likely second guessing offering me the position.

Before I can screw it up anymore, I wave a hand and mutter as I exit. “See you in a second.”

The last thing I hear before his door closes behind me, is a low chuckle and a “That you will.”

If someone would have told me Renee Porter would be the death of me, I would have believed it without a shadow of a doubt.

Even before seeing her, I was already intrigued by the woman that had convinced the CEO to create a position that didn’t exist. Granted, when I learned of what all it entailed, I thought it was brilliant, but Jones is not so easily moved, even with facts and hard backed research. Being the literary genius he is, he makes decisions based on his heart, how the wind blows on his morning walk, or if a bluebird happens to fly overhead on his commute to work. Nothing and no one can convince the man of anything if he doesn’t already foresee it.

So to say I was interested in the person that successfully moved him, was an understatement. Finding out it was Porter’s daughter, however, distorted by curiosity immensely, and my expectations were suddenly moot. Perhaps that’s why when I saw her for the first time, nothing could have prepared me for all that she is.

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