Page 37 of Resisting Fate
Ben shifted uneasily. Logan had agreed by text yesterday to hiring Missy no questions asked because he trusted Ben’s judgment. Plus he knew her from a few parties. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “You can ask her. She’ll be here by one.”
Logan stared at him for a long moment. “Are you telling me you hired an admin and you don’t even know what her skills are?”
“She’s been an executive assistant for years. I’m sure she has lots of skills.”
Logan put his palm out, wiggling his fingers. “Lemme see her résumé.”
Ben cleared his throat. “I, uh, didn’t ask for a résumé.”
Logan’s brows shot up. “Our whole company is based on looking into employees’ backgrounds and you didn’t even get the basics?” He jabbed an accusatory finger at him. “You want her!”
Ben fought to look innocent. He’d never told anyone he’d hooked up with Missy. “She needed a temp job and we needed a temp.”
Logan shoved a hand through his hair. “You fucking horndog. Keep it in your pants, I mean it. We’ve got a lot of work to do before January.”
Ben clenched his jaw. “I’m keeping it professional. I know we can’t afford another mark against me.”
Logan gave him a sympathetic look.
“I won’t let you down.”
“I know.” Logan headed out, slapping the doorframe overhead before saying over his shoulder, “Next time I’m doing the hiring.”
~ ~ ~
Missy headed upstairs to Checkin, her new office gig, with no small amount of trepidation. She and Ben had agreed to keep it professional, which was totally the right thing to do, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy to deny the attraction. She couldn’t say she regretted their hookup, it had beenfantastic, but it did leave her with a longing for more. Ugh! No, absolutely not. Giving in to the attraction would only lead to something deeper because somewhere along the way she’d moved past lust to real respect and admiration. How many men would be caught dead at a craft bazaar buying a handknit Christmas sweater on behalf of their grandmother? Or spend their Thanksgiving cheerfully working at a homeless shelter? He’d even helped out a stressed-out elf at the mall, offering her a much more respectable gig. She tried not to think too hard on her short-lived career in elfing.
No, a relationship was out of the question. No man was trustworthy. Hadn’t she learned that lesson the hard way, over and over? First with her ex-husband, then with her work at the women’s shelter and the crisis hotline, and then with the married Matt. She’d promised herself to deal with men on her own casual terms, a vital part of her plan to stay safe. Part of being a survivor was knowing when to cut ties that could leave lasting damage. After this temp job, she and Ben would go their separate ways on friendly terms.
Their door was unmarked, but the only other upstairs door had a small sign for a Reiki practitioner. She opened the door to a large space with a white round table in the center surrounded by six white swivel chairs. A makeshift kitchen stood in one corner behind a single cubicle wall. Three offices with glass walls faced the central space, with their doors wide open.
She walked farther in, peeking in the first spacious office, where Ben sat behind a modern L-shaped desk with a light natural wood finish and metal legs. He wore his usual long-sleeved Henley and jeans, which fit with the casual tech culture she was used to back in Seattle. She’d worn business casual—navy blue cardigan over a white button-down shirt with dark gray pants—aiming for professional to set the right tone from day one.
He stood abruptly. “Hey, you’re here. Let me give you the tour.”
“Ah, okay. I think I saw most of it when I wandered in here. Don’t you lock the door?”
He crossed to her, close enough for her to breathe in his scent—warm spice, leather, and man. “Why would we lock the door?”
She turned and walked back to the open center of the office, already tempted having him close. “What if you go out to lunch and someone steals all the laptops?”
He stood next to her, brows drawn together. “You’re paranoid. It’s downtown Eastman. There’s just people shopping or eating at the diner across the street.”
He headed over to the kitchen corner and she followed, looking her fill at his broad back, remembering the play of muscle under her hands.Professional, I am a professional.She shifted her gaze to the back of his neck, still too enticing, and on up to his short-cropped hair that had felt surprisingly soft.
“They have a police department for a reason,” she said belatedly.
“So we’ve got all your basics—” he gestured around him “—coffee maker, microwave, mini fridge. Logan keeps frozen Snickers in there. Eat them at your own risk.”
“Because they’re old?”
“No, because I don’t like to share,” Logan said cheerfully, stepping into the small kitchen space with them. Logan was the best looking of the Campbell clan, in her opinion. All of the Campbell brothers were of the tall, athletically inclined variety, but there was a male beauty in his face that was movie-star quality. Warm brown eyes were highlighted by his short light brown hair and sexy beard, his features perfectly symmetric, even his nose was cute. Add in his warm easygoing nature and she was sure he had women throwing themselves at his feet. Not her, though, she liked a man with a bit of an edge, the kind that didn’t need sweetness and light in a woman.
The kind she’d have a professional relationship with if it killed her.
Logan offered his hand to her, the height of professionalism, even in a long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and sneakers. “Good to have you on board. Can you do accounting, graphs, presentation software, data entry, and filing?”
“She just got here,” Ben snarled.
