Page 9 of Consumed By You
“Miss Nichols, he is expecting you.”
She doesn’t even glance in my direction, just strides straight past me into his office. An amused smile tugs on the corners of my mouth. All right, then. A few minutes later, she reemerges from the double doors, Benjamin following closely behind her.
He pops his head into my office. “You’re free to go to lunch. I need the memos by three.”
He disappears then, their shoes echoing down the hallway. I grab my lunch that I made at home and head toward the break room, relaxing when there is no one in the room.
I’m eating my chicken salad sandwich in peace when a man walks through the door carrying takeout. He has a huge smile plastered on his face, and for a moment I wonder if Benjamin Scott only hires models. This guy is also Hollywood beautiful.
His hair is cut short and gelled to perfection, a natural dirty blond color. He’s thin, his body lean like that of a devoted runner. His dress shirt is rolled at the sleeves, missing a tie. I have no clue why I’m comparing him to Benjamin in my mind.
“You must be Darcy, the new assistant everyone here is talking about.” He grins, walking over to sit next to me.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Well, you’re still here, so that’s a good sign. Boss man hasn’t scared you away yet?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, mustering up an expression to sell my validity.
He peers at me in amusement, his ocean deep eyes teasing. “He’s my little brother. You don’t have to lie to me. I know how he is,” he says, his cheeks creasing with amusement.
“Oh, I didn’t know he had a brother.”
“And a sister. I’m adopted, but we’re all technically related. That doesn’t mean he’s not a dick here, though.” I gape at him. “You have a lot to learn, newbie. That will be his middle name by the time the week’s through.”
“Do you do this with all the newbies? Scare them to death?”
“I think you can take it.”
“I can,” I snap back confidently, and he bursts into laughter, completely at ease with himself.
“I like you already. Optimistic babe. Who could ask for more?”
I look down at my half-eaten sandwich, surprised by his candor.
“You’re blushing,” he points out.
“You’re kind of forward.”
“Most women like that in a man.”
That causes me to finally meet his gaze. Heisflirting with me. What do I even say to that?
He leans back in his chair, so far that the front legs lift off the ground. “Would you like to go out later?”
“What? Like tonight? Like a date?”
“Yes to both questions.”
“I don’t think so.”
He purses his lips in rejection. I can see “no” is not something he hears often. “Why not?”
“For one, you work with me, I think.”
His smile softens. “I run the publishing house downstairs. I came up to see my brother, but the receptionist told me he went to lunch and that you were in here. I was intrigued.”
“Do you get intrigued often?” I question him, sarcasm dripping through my tone.
