I just wanted to fucking rest.

My head pounded, which Cheryl insisted I couldn't blame on the kale despite the two being directly correlated. A part of me stuck hard to the story while the other knew that there was no way the rabbit food getting to me—it was a certain green-eyed employee of mine.

Employee of mine.

God, I was royally screwed.

The office started clearing out around five. A few of the guys, and even one of the new people, stuck their heads in to offer me a quick goodbye. I smiled, joked and pretended my skin wasn’t crawling with nerves.

I didn’t know what I was going to do about this. It wasn’t like there was anything to do—I couldn’t not have Jimmy in my life. He was the head of the Boston branch, or what was left of it and an invaluable member of Singer-Paulson. I had to clear things up.

We could take the—indiscretion to H.R., but Jimmy had already said he didn’t want that. I couldn’t blame him. It would stay on his record. Not to mention that it was within the company’s rights to punish both of us however they saw fit.

But I couldn’t have an employee who ran from any room I was in. As his direct supervisor, we were going to be in a lot of rooms together.

A knock on my door dragged my attention away from my computer screen. I was still working out the kinks in having this many clients, but the distraction was a welcome one. I wasn’t working as much as thinking about the way Jimmy had fled from me—twice now, really.

A pang shot through my chest.

I didn’t want Jimmy to run away from me. Not at work, not at all.

I slammed the laptop closed a bit too angrily and flinched, clearing my throat. “Come in.”

Cheryl slipped in, holding the door open with one hand. She raised an eyebrow. “Quite a day.”

I hid a laugh in a cough. In Cheryl, that meant, Fucking hell, right?

I answered the question she hadn’t asked. “Right. Long day.”

She hummed in agreement. “What are your thoughts about the new guys?”

“Great additions to the team,” I said smoothly, trying to remember anything about them—besides him. “They’re fitting in perfectly and I think we’re nearly out of the woods. The merger is a success.”

“Okay, okay,” she lifted a hand in defense, “don’t give me the spiel, big guy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t ask for it, then.”

She laughed and knocked against the doorframe. “Fair,” she conceded. “It’s five-thirty. I’m out of here, if you don’t need me.”

“No, no, please. Get out.” I waved her off, opening the screen tab again. It was later than I thought, and I’d been hoping to get things situated so everyone could be up and running by tomorrow. Then, I’d spend the day smoothing things out and by mid-week, everything would be rolling along.

Cheryl nodded and offered me a quick smile before she was off, door closing behind her. She practically left a dust trail.

I rolled my neck, trying to work out the kinks. God, I needed to take a few laps around the building instead of hunching over this desk all day—I was going to end up with a chiropractor on call at this rate.

There were two quick raps on the door. I frowned at the document I had open—twenty more minutes and I’d be done, if I could just get some work done in silence. “Hey, Cheryl, if you could just give me—”

“It’s not Cheryl.”

For the second time that day, Jimmy frigging Swan shocked the hell out of me. I jumped, knees slamming into my desk, and I cursed out loud. His eyebrows shot to the middle of his forehead, frowning lips parting in a silent oh.

His hair was almost as messy as it had been when he woke up in my bed—stop that, don’t think about that—and his cheeks were nearly as red—god damn you, Cannon.

He stood just past the doorway, suit jacket gone. His tie had been loosened, hanging around his neck—I could imagine myself tugging on it, pulling him closer. My fingers twitched, and I smothered the urge.

I was not a creep. I wasn’t going think these things about an employee, for God’s sake. I just had to forget about what I didn’t even know. A night neither of us could remember did not an affair make.

I forced my muscles to relax, leaning back in my chair. Folding my hands together and resting them on my stretched out abdomen, I conjured every bit of control I had. Fucking fake it, I told myself, smiling easily. “Sorry about that, Jimmy. How can I help you?”

His face relaxed and he took a half step forward before hesitating. I gestured towards the chair. He smiled tightly, a small thing, before sitting carefully in front of me.

My muscles felt poised to attack. I really hoped I came off as casual.

“I—wanted to apologize,” Jimmy said, slowly. His gaze was just off center, just over my shoulder. It took great effort not to demand he look at me. I could remember the heat his full gaze produced. Having it offered to the wall behind me instead burned almost as badly, but not half as pleasantly.

I forgot what he had said. My whole train of thought screamed look at me, look at me, look at me, and even drowning in the embarrassment, I couldn’t force myself to care. “Wait, what?”

This brought his eyes snapping to mine. Victory.

His eyes were narrowed; Jimmy was frowning at me. His glare made my spine tingle and I sat up straighter under his scrutiny. “I am apologizing. Please pay attention.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened the second mine narrowed. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, smoke coming out of that big bush of hair—that had been Jimmy, with the low, gravel-filled voice and bedroom eyes, not the eager department head.

My body practically twitched. I was losing my battle with it.

Well, he did ask for my attention. “You’re right,” I said, swallowing hard at the way my voice had dropped in tone, “continue.”

Jimmy pursed his lips, and cocked his head, before releasing his lips and nodding. “I apologize for my behavior earlier. I did not intend to—leave, our meeting, quite so abruptly. I wanted to see if there was anything else you needed from me, sir.”

I held myself very still.

I was being tested.

This, him, with his plush lips and crazy hair, with hands that, though folded neatly in his lap, were strong and large and a neck that was starting to stubble as the evening wore on—him, with his voice, and his hard to earn smiles, and the gaping black hole in my memory—

If I could just remember, it would be fine. It would be out of my system.

But I couldn’t remember, so he just sat there, tempting and forbidden and a thousand shades of inappropriate, calling me sir and looking at me with eyes that—

That were definitely, definitely darkening.

I ignored the fact that I shouldn’t be staring at him hard enough to notice the way his pupils were growing, blackening his bright gaze. It was intoxicating to watch. I leaned forward, chair scooting until I was pressed into my side of the desk—his pupils grew larger as I came closer.

Interesting, half of my brain thought while the rest of me screamed, holy shit.

Jimmy’s breath was coming out in little puffs I could hear now. A thrill shot through me and settled warm and electric in my gut.

I was practically leaning over the desk now, my hands fallen to my lap, and watched as he drew closer, too. He was on the edge of the seat, lips parted, his breaths were too far away for me to feel but close enough that all I could think about was swallowing them down.

Jimmy’s eyes fell from mine to my lips. With slow purpose, I parted them, slipping my tongue out to swipe across my bottom lip—they were dry, after all, it wasn’t necessarily inappropriate to wet my lips.

Jimmy flung himself back in his chair, clearing his throat. He ran his hands down his face and I grinned. He stayed like that for a few moments. His shoulders moved with the effort to take deep breaths. I probably should have been trying to calm myself down, too.

He slowly lowered his hands, glaring at me. It was honestly such a look—his angry face, sharp jaw, dark eyes, wild hair—I was going to pass out here in my office if something didn’t let up soon.

“Sir,” he said again, and, honestly, that was worse than when he was calling me Mr. Cannon. I didn’t correct him, though. “Is there anything else you need from me before I go home for the night?”

I was a good man but not a perfect one.

It took nearly a full minute for me to force the answer out of my mouth. “No,” I finally managed, my head still swimming with the possibilities I was only barely not considering. “You’re free to go.”

He rose from the chair, dragging my gaze up with him as he stood. The look on his face, staring down at me as I craned my neck to look up, sent shivers down my back.

He wet his lips and I nearly shot out of my chair. The bite of my nails into my thighs, sharp. “Have a good evening, Mr. Cannon.”

I watched him leave, the door closing softly behind him. There was no noise from the office except his steps. When they softened too much for me to here, I groaned out loud.

“Fuck,” I cursed softly, pushing back in my chair until I had rolled away from the desk.

My body felt too jittery, filled with anticipation. My hands shook on my thighs and my throat kept constricting, swallowing around nothing. I was turned up to a thousand and still batting zero.

Jesus, he was a dream. Or a nightmare. He was something that I couldn’t control even if it was half my own making. I was about half a second from demanding he cross the room and our jobs be damned and—and I was half sure he would have done it, too.

My blood moved like sludge, there wasn’t enough in me to race because it had already pooled somewhere and I wasn’t going to get it to move again on my own.

I remembered the way he looked with his fingers curled around my coffee mug and his lips wrapped around my honeyed fork. I wanted to know what he tasted like now.

My skin buzzed. I rolled my head back, letting it fall to my headrest. My hands tightened around the material of my slacks, fisting it.

I pulsed, half-hard in my boxers. I could feel the dam of arousal just beneath the surface, splashing over the edge of the wall and begging to crash through—my fingers twitched and my toes curled and I could practically feel how good it would feel and—

Fuck, my arms had raised, was pressing the heel of my hand into my hardening dick and that was all shades of wrong.

I stood up, running my hands through my hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I doing?

Treating an employee like that—teasing him, watching him, imagining him—and then nearly touching myself in the office? I was losing my goddamn mind.

There was reasonable confusion from the attraction I had felt for Jimmy the other day, back when things were embarrassing but not off-limits, and then there was—this.

I would have said it had been too long but Jimmy’s presence meant that wasn’t true.

I needed to just screw my head on right. Focus on work, on the merger, on the things that actually mattered. I didn’t even know Jimmy—I had just spent a few too many hours thinking about his hands and lips and then, the surprise of seeing him, of hearing his voice call me—

And, okay, no. If I didn’t learn how to fucking control myself in the next twelve hours, I was going to have to transfer. Or just crawl in a hole and die. Either option would work.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the mantra was stuck in my head or maybe it was all that was left in there at this point.

I needed a drink. Grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair, I closed my laptop. I was not going to be getting any more work done tonight. I would just go home and sleep this off.

Or, better yet, I would go to the bar and get a double. Or two. I would drink away some of this—energy and, hey, maybe there’d be someone not-completely-fucking inappropriate who would take my mind off of him who should not be named.

I grabbed my briefcase and coat, nodding to myself. I’d go to Yellow Tails, grab a drink, and forget all about Jimmy. I would get this—excitement out of my system and be a good boss, if it killed me.

I was Dean fucking Cannon and if I could do anything, it was being a good boss. So I’d go get a few drinks and sleep with a stranger who was not my employee.