Page 43 of Single Girl in the City
“No, he gave the guy a raise.” Owen chuckled. “He always believed the best in people, even when they didn’t deserve his grace. He went out of his way to make their lives a little easier.” He looked down at Abi. “He would have liked you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Abi said. She’d like to think that Benji would have forgiven her for her part in the lawsuit, but she feared that Owen wouldn’t extend that same generosity. Not after he discovered it was her deposition that gave the assistant district attorney what he needed to move forward.
Of its own will, her gaze skittered toward the exit, then back to the sexy and insurmountable boulder that stood between her and freedom. She felt her breath hitch—and not in a good way. Her chest tightened ever so slightly, pissing off her lungs. It wasn’t panic that had her by the throat, it was a complicated knot of guilt and remorse.
“Abi?” was all he said, but the concern nearly undid her.
So she pushed every stupid emotion down into herdeal with it laterbox, which hadn’t been opened since the summer before her freshman year in high school. When showing off for the football team, she performed a swan dive. Except when she resurfaced, she shot out of the water unaware she’d lost her bikini top. From that day forward she became known as A-Cup Abi.
Before he could ask what was wrong, she plastered a smile on her face. “So, where do you need me?”
He looked at the couch.
“Business not pleasure, remember?”
“So, you didn’t change your mind?” he asked.
Her smile faded. “You sound disappointed?”
His eyes raked her body and she let him look. She might be small, but she was curvy and dressed to use it to her advantage. Today she’d carefully chosen her outfit for maximum effect. Seemed Owen approved. “Conflicted but not disappointed.”
“Me too,” she said quietly, and his gaze jumped to hers. It held for a long, heated beat before he sat back down in the office chair.
“What’s your game plan?”
She glanced around and sighed. This good deed wasn’t going to be as cut and dry as she’d originally thought. She could run his bar and hire a new staff with her eyes closed. Being in such proximity to Owen, hearing about his life and not falling for him, would take a herculean effort on her part.
“Before I can hand things off to a new manager, we need to get organized.”
“Fair enough. Where do you want to start?” he asked.
“How about with this.” She waved her hand over his desk where, based on the mountains and mountains of paperwork, she had her work cut out for her.
“I’m working on scheduling interviews.”
She moved behind the desk and gave him a shove with her hip. “Now you’re working on catching some sleep before opening.”
“That’s not happening.”
“Which part? Your beauty rest or me doing my job?” He opened his mouth. “Be careful with your next words.”
“I’m not big on letting someone else do my job.”
“You mean you’re a control freak,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. He defiantly crossed his massive arms and,sweet mother of God,his biceps needed their own area code. “Good thing you have me so that you don’t have to worry about anything. Now move or I’ll have you removed.”
This seemed to amuse him because he dug in further until a category five hurricane couldn’t budge this man. But she knew what could. “I have your mother’s number and I was told to use it if you become difficult.”
He blanched. “I don’t even want to know how you got my mom’s number.”
“I’m persuasive,” she said, using his words from the day at the cemetery. “And I’m good at my job.” She took his hand to pull him to his feet. When he still didn’t budge, she said, “Humor me.”
He stood but made it clear that his humor was thin, then held out the chair for her. When she moved to sit, they bumped. She shifted the other way and they bumped again, like two magnets unable to stay apart.
No matter where she moved, there he was. His massive body took up the small space and his scent was all over her even though they’d hadn’t so much as touched. Normally, she was a personal space kind of person, and after the accident “room to breathe” had taken on a whole new meaning. But being in such close quarters with Owen and his big, beautiful bod brushing hers with nearly every breath had her close to her first public orgasm.
One more strategically placed slide of the body and she’d go off like a firework.
“Now, where do you want me to sit?” she repeated his question from earlier.
