The men from Shin Electronics, plus a few female employees, had arrived yesterday late morning safe and sound. Emily ensured the limousines were at South Lake Tahoe’s small airport on time, and once they’d made it to the club, the guests were encouraged to partake in the spa services she’d set up. By the time the meet-and-greet had rolled around, the Shin representatives were relaxed and enjoying themselves. The entire day had gone extremely well.

This morning, however, was another matter.

Emily raced down the hallway toward Levi’s office. She wore her normal dark pencil skirt, but had paired it with one of the tops her sister brought over a few days ago. And hell no, she didn’t wear any of the death-trap shoes her sister tried to ply her with, claiming they were the latest trends. Emily stuck to her sturdy three-inch heels with a bit of a platform. Nothing spiked. In other words, she could move in them. Which she was doing. Rapidly. Pumping her long legs down the corridor in a semi-sprint.

Esther was officially gone, and Emily should have moved her things to the older woman’s desk outside of Levi’s office. But there was something about taking over Esther’s place that didn’t sit right. Plus, Emily liked having her own office, small as it was. So she ran back and forth between her office down the hall and Levi’s whenever she needed to talk to him. Like now, when tonight was shaping up to be a disaster.

“Levi.” Emily burst into his office without knocking. She should have knocked, but that would have taken a half-second she didn’t want to waste.

He was standing in the center of the room, staring at a necktie, which he promptly dropped to his side, his face shifting from mild annoyance to alert. “What’s wrong?”

“The chef of our steakhouse is sick, our backup just quit, and Bran’s freaking out. Wait—why aren’t you ready? You need to meet the men in five minutes!”

“I’ll be there. Just need to make a quick run to Peak Attire.”

Peak Attire was the upscale, ridiculously overpriced clothing store inside Club Tahoe.

She scanned him. Levi filled out a suit like a muscular runway model. The only thing not on point was his necktie, which he still held in his hand. “You don’t have time. You’ll be late, and every impression counts.”

He held up the silk fabric—striped and probably worth about two hundred dollars. A look of chagrin crossed his face. “Never learned how to tie one of these.”

Emily strode over, grabbed the tie from him, and looped it around his neck. Her hands moved swiftly as she knotted it while she spoke. “What are we going to do about the steakhouse? Has this ever happened? And tonight of all nights?”

He watched her hands move quickly and efficiently. “Who taught you how to do that?”

She blinked and glanced at the tie, straightened and knotted. “My ex was a stockbroker. He also liked French cuffs and bow ties.”

Levi smoothed a hand down the silk fabric. “Thank you.” He smiled.

And Emily forgot why she came here.

God, he was handsome. Every woman in the place would drool when they saw him tonight. If Emily lifted her head from her work more often, she might know exactly how many women had crushes on their new, young CEO. Then again, she didn’t really need to look; she could guess. All of them. And probably a few men.

“Emily? You okay?”

She shook her head. She was here because of…the restaurant. “Sorry, I’m uh—I’m worried. What are we going to do?” Smooth.

He strode toward the door and pulled out his phone, and Emily trailed after him.

She’d raced here, out of her mind with worry over the food situation, but as she watched him stride ahead in his formal attire for the dinner this evening, everything seemed insignificant, because oh my God.

Levi was a big guy—six three, six four? Emily was tall for a woman at five foot seven. She wore three-inch heels, so that put her at five ten most of the time. Yet Levi towered over her while she’d worked his tie, making her feel small. There was something about a physically powerful man that was a huge turn-on. She couldn’t stop staring, and the view from behind was almost as good as from the front.

“Macon, where the hell are you?” Levi barked into the phone.

Macon was the chef and the employee she’d chatted with at Esther’s going-away party. He was also really into facial hair grooming. Cute, but not her type.

“You’re sick, eh. What do you have?” There was a long pause as Levi listened and continued down the hallway and out of the executive offices, across the lobby, to the Fireside Lounge, where Shin Electronics and their partners were meeting for drinks before dinner. He entered the bar and waved off the waitress who started toward him. “Where were you last night?”

A look of irritation crossed Levi’s face. “Macon, you either email my assistant a doctor’s note and find a suitable replacement for this evening or you’re fired.”

He tucked his phone back in his pocket.

Emily gasped. “We’re screwed. So screwed. You can’t fire him. We have trained staff, but we still need a chef…”

Levi nodded in greeting to the head of Shin Electronics across the room. “Macon will be here in fifteen minutes.”

She grabbed his arm before the infuriating man walked away. “How do you know that?”

He stared down at her. “Macon’s hungover. Didn’t say as much, but he went out last night. The guy’s worked here for seven years. He always calls in sick after tearing it up the night before. Normally we have a backup chef, but tonight Macon’s it.”

Emily dropped her hand, realizing belatedly that she was holding him in place. Not strongly—he could have broken her hold. But he hadn’t. He’d waited.

She huffed out a breath. So maybe she’d overreacted, but what did he expect? She was new here; she didn’t know Macon’s habits. It was a good thing Levi did.

He strode toward the guests, shaking hands and greeting everyone, and Emily realized something.

Levi was a natural leader. He just didn’t know it.

* * *

Emily dragged herself toward the employee exit close to midnight. She was exhausted.

While Levi had schmoozed with the guests, she’d made sure things were ready for tomorrow morning’s special spa day. It was a last-minute add-on, but the head of the company insisted on it after enjoying his massage the first day, and who was Emily to argue? He’d asked for a morning massage, and a sauna for him and his staff before their afternoon meeting.

“Emily,” a deep voice said.

She turned in the parking lot to see Levi striding toward her, his tie loosened, the legs of his suit pants crinkled at the thigh from a long night of sitting, eating, and socializing. “How’d it go?”

“As well as could be expected.”

“I heard Macon showed up.”

Levi snorted. “Jackass. He’s a talented son of a bitch, though. Can’t get rid of him.” He glanced down at her. “You’re here late.”

“Another last-minute change. The team wants a spa morning tomorrow.”

Levi shook his head. “Count me out.”

“Oh no. If I’m getting wrangled into going, you are too. The translator they brought is flying with another employee to a meeting in L.A. and won’t be available.”

“So get another translator.”

“Why? I’m here and I have a bathing suit.” She pulled out her keys and clicked the fob. “Though I doubt a bathing suit will be required. People in other countries sauna in the buff.” She grinned, clearly having lost her mind. Working long hours had her teasing her boss at midnight.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he stopped her from entering the car. “Hell no. No naked spa day with a bunch of horny businessmen.”

She laughed. “I was only joking. They’ll probably wear bathing suits. Maybe. And if they don’t, I doubt nudity is a big deal for them. Americans are the only ones hung up on it.”

Levi turned and started walking in the opposite direction—to his car, presumably. “I’ll be there. And wear a damned bathing suit,” he called.