Page 32 of The Physical Attraction Seminar
This will be the perfect trial run before we leave for our work conference in four days. We’ll be here after hours, and no one will be around, so I can practice how I’ll manage to spend a week alone with him outside of the office.
“I’m in,” I agree without hesitation.
“Great,” he nods. “Now, since you’re about to head downstairs, can you bring me back a large peanut butter and banana smoothie?”
“How’d you know that’s where I was headed?” I narrow my eyes on him.
“You spend more time at The Smoothie Bar than you do at your desk. You’re almost as bad as Aspen.”
I let out a playful scoff, rolling my eyes in mock exasperation. “You know, it’s a shame they don’t have mango smoothies, or else I’d be there every hour, on the hour. I’d be useless as an assistant, but at least I’d be happy.”
“Noted.” He lets a slow smile spread across his face, and my heart flips inside my chest. I’m going to need a lot more willpower if I’m going to make it through this conference without him finding out about how I really feel about him.
THIRTEEN
BARRETT
Dearest Assistant,
It is with deep regret that I must inform you that our client has rescheduled our lunch plans for this afternoon. As a consolation, I’ve asked our smoothie bar staff to send up a drink for you.
Yours,
Mr. CEO
————————————
Mr. CEO,
I’ve been informed by a credible news source (Camila) that mango banana smoothies have been added to the menu. You wouldn’t happen to know the person responsiblefor making this happen, would you?
Insert Pleasantry Here,
Mango Smoothie Aficionado
————————————
Mango Smoothie Aficionado,
Guilty as charged.
Yours,
The Man Responsible
The rhythmic click of my keyboard fills the silence of an otherwise quiet office. The sun had long disappeared, but the room was still illuminated by a faint, dusky glow of city lights seeping through the blinds.
My suit jacket hangs on the back of the chair, and the sleeves of my white button-down are rolled up—a visual testament to the long hours I’ve put in today.
“Thanks for staying late to help me with this proposal,” I say aloud, my voice as smooth and composed as ever. “I really appreciate it.”
Seated in the black barrel chair opposite my desk, Lyla has her legs folded in a crisscross position. A pile of papers is nestled on her lap, and she’s holding one up near herface, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she reads its contents.
“Of course, I don’t mind,” she replies in a soft voice.
We’ve spent the last few hours analyzing every detail of the proposal, examining spreadsheets, and refining language. Fatigue is starting to set in, but the anticipation of reaching the end pushes us forward.
I steal another glance at her, mesmerized by the way she meticulously scans the document with her tongue poking out in concentration.
