Page 283 of Small Town Firsts
To bed.
The thought arrived unbidden into my mind. And then the followup.
Why wait for a bed when we have so many convenient walls? And this handy desk…
Without warning, her eyes popped wide. She slid off the corner of the desk so fast that she tripped and would’ve landed on her ass if I hadn’t grabbed her wrist—and nearly suffered a contact burn from the fiery bolt that traveled up my arm.
What the hell?
“Are you okay?” I hoped I didn’t sound as dazed as I felt.
“Fine. Dandy. I just need mouthwash. My dentist freaks if I don’t spit—I mean, gargle after sweets. I had cavities as a kid, so I have to listen to him. Sorry. Bye.” She ran out of the office, practically limping, and slammed the door with the same gusto I had after meeting her in the flesh approximately two hours and twenty-nine minutes ago.
I sagged into my desk chair. I was breathing hard, my pulse chaotic. The honeyed sweetness on my lips tasted so delicious that pressing them together made my dick throb.
My fucking fingers were still tingling. Who was that woman? Had she put some kind of sex hex on me? Was that a thing?
I pulled up Google and was typing in those very words when my email dinged.
Bypassing the other fifty emails from her, I opened the latest.
We can’t go to lunch. I mean it this time. I’m not hungry. Too much fritter.
For probably the first time all day, I smiled. Slowly, like a shark scenting blood. I sent back a reply.
We’re going to lunch. You need some protein to balance all that sugar.
With her usual speed, she responded.
Actually, I’m allergic to protein.
I volleyed back.
To salt too?
I received her quickest answer yet.
Unfortunately, yes. All I eat is apples and whitefish. Sorry.
Whitefish it is. Be ready to go at precisely 12:45. I’ll make reservations.
And I knew just the place that was far enough from town we would never be spotted by curious onlookers.
Not that we were doing anything untoward. Of course not. This was a business lunch.
I brought up a fresh Word document. Said lunch would start with this To Do list for my brand new temporary assistant.
If she wanted to be told what to do, I would abide.
SIX
We walkedinto The Longshoreman seafood restaurant at nearly one-thirty, a full half hour past our reservation.
Silly me, I’d forgotten one of us could never be on time. I just didn’t realize that didn’t only apply to arriving in a timely fashion for gainful employment.
“You’re still glowering,” Ryan hissed somewhere near my shoulder.
She was the perfect height for me, a rarity among the women I’d dated. A fact that was neither here nor there.
