Not how I was raised?
Who the hell was this naive woman? And why the hell was I pressed against my door, listening to the petty conversations of my assistant, rather than working?
Because she was distracting—that was why.
I’d never paid much attention to my assistants before now. Bethany had been working for me for a couple of years, and before that, I honestly couldn’t remember.
Jude had always been friendly and personal with his assistants, and my father had been courteous enough to give bonuses and extra days off to his assistants.
But, then again, that was them.
And this was me.
If I couldn’t get physical with a woman and we weren’t making a business deal, what was the point in talking? This would be considered a sexist comment if I didn’t also hold the same policy for men—minus the getting physical part.
I just wasn’t much of a social person.
Growing up, I’d always been more introverted than anything. I’d sit on the sidelines of my own birthday parties, watching everyone have a better time than me, wondering how long until I could leave.
I’d become a little more social during high school with the introduction of hormones and the realization that I’d actually have to speak to girls to get them to sleep with me. This practice had continued much through my younger twenties until I had been labeled as the wild child of the Cavenaugh clan.
That had made my dear old dad incredibly happy. Rather than reading me the riot act, he’d turned my misconduct into something he could use, and suddenly, I had become the public face for our company.
I’d felt used and swindled.
I hadn’t wanted to be the face of anything, and wasting away at galas and charity auctions had felt like a slow descent into hell. But, for my father, I was exactly where I should be.
“Cute but dumb.”
But, now, I had all the time in the world to prove him wrong—if I could just concentrate.
Looking out the tiny peephole in my door—my dad’s idea, not mine, I watched my new assistant sit at her desk, staring at a cup of coffee. She appeared forlorn and lost.
Join the club, babe.
With one last glance in her direction, I walked away, back to my desk.
A different man would go out there and tell her to hold her chin up or say something to make her feel he was worth the onslaught of what was to come being a devoted assistant to someone like me.
But I wasn’t him.
A better man would have told her to not bother and join the rest of the herd. Defending me wasn’t worth her time.
But I wasn’t that guy either.
And I had shit to do.
Sometime in the afternoon, after my eyes had started to go cross-eyed from the complex reporting I was in, there was a tiny knock at my office door.
Having never actually had someone knock on my door before, I found myself uttering out loud, “What the actual fuck?”
Isn’t this what I have an assistant for? To keep out the unwanted?
How long does bed rest last?
With anger rising near my temples, I stalked toward the unfamiliar sound and pulled back the door in one swift movement. There, on the opposite side, was my new assistant, looking short and timid, as I nearly breathed fire at her.
“Um, hi, Mr. Cavenaugh. Sir. Yes, I, uh,” she stammered on.
My fingers gripped the door harder.
“Phone,” I responded.
“Sorry?”
“The phone. There’s an intercom button on it. Use it,” I said, each word clipped and concise.
“Right. See, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have a few notes here and there from Bethany, but beyond that… I don’t know what to do exactly. I mean, I’ve been answering the phone, but without your schedule or a general knowledge of your daily routine, I have no idea what to tell clients when they do call, so I’ve just been taking messages.”
Considering she’d barely been able to get a word out a moment earlier, I was almost blown over by the sheer number of syllables she’d managed to string together with hardly a breath in between.
“You’ve taken messages?” When I looked down at the stack of pink notes in her hand, my stomach went sour.
“Yes, quite a lot actually,” she said, holding up the pile.
There had to be thirty at least. Possibly fifty.
“Jesus. Get in here,” I said, stepping aside.
Her eyes widened at my request, as if she wasn’t sure I’d actually meant it.
“What are you waiting for?” I snapped.
That seemed to stir some action in her. She scooted past me, and I couldn’t help but notice the way her dress clung to her curves. It wasn’t the same as the tight green number she’d worn out to the club, but now that I took a good, hard look, I’d recognize those hips and ass anywhere. She was doing a decent job of covering them with that horrible-looking sweater dress, but underneath it, I could still picture every luscious inch.
“Sir?”
“Right,” I said, shaking my head, as I shut the door.
She had already positioned herself in one of the heavy leather chairs in front of my desk while I had been busy having an inappropriate fantasy about her in my head.
That didn’t make me any more of a jackass, did it?
“Okay, let’s get a few things straight,” I said, taking a seat in front of her.
She nodded enthusiastically. It wasn’t in a bobblehead Barbie sort of way, but it was the kind of nod that would let you know someone was tuned in, and focused, on you.
“Right, so I like as little interruptions as possible. None, if it can be achieved. Think of this as my private sanctuary. I don’t hold meetings here. I don’t like it when people ‘swing by to chat’,’” I said, holding my fingers up to emphasize the phrase. “And I especially hate knocking.”
Her cheeks instantly reddened.
“I’m so sorry,” she started gushing.
I held up my hand to stop her.
“Now, you know. Moving on,” I continued.
She pressed her lips together in what I assumed was to halt whatever additional apologies might come, but instead, all it resulted in was my eyes darting straight to her pouty pink mouth.
What would those lips would feel like wrapped around—.
“Now, for these messages you took,” I said in a desperate attempt to concentrate, reaching out for the messages.
She handed them over, her fingers grazing my own. Her touch was light, fleeting, but it left a warmth on my palm that I couldn’t explain.
Thumbing through several, I nearly laughed. “You took a message from a cable company?” I asked, glancing up at her for a brief moment.
I saw embarrassment blossom across her features as she smiled sheepishly.
“I didn’t want to miss anything.”
There were several more in the pile similar to the cable company, and I immediately dumped them. I would normally yell at someone for this lack of common sense, but it somehow suited her.
The unaffected nature she seemed to possess.
It made me curious how in the world she’d ended up in a place like this… with a man like me.
“Where did you say you worked before this?” I finally asked after I’d managed to get the pile of pink slips down to a manageable few.
“I didn’t, but this is actually my first job out of college. I just graduated from the University of Nebraska in Lincoln, but I worked for the university president for several years,” she added at the last moment.
So many things clicked into place in that moment.
The conversation she’d had with the blonde from accounting, the doe-eyed look she constantly wore, and the skills she obviously needed, both in and out of the office.
And wouldn’t you love to teach her a few of those? the devil on my shoulder asked me as a vision of her in that tight green dress crept back into my mind.
Looking up at that innocent face, I let out a sigh.
This was going to be a long three months.
“So Mondays, you have a standing appointment with the VP of Finance. And on Fridays, your lunch hour is blacked out, why?” She looked up at me for confirmation. The day had progressed into evening and I was starting to feel my usual restlessness, as if my body knew it wasn’t supposed to be here at this hour.
“I usually eat at my desk unless my mother is feeling particularly needy, so I leave it booked,” I explained, paying particularly close attention to my feet as they rested on the edge of my desk. I’d placed them there as an attempt to put space between me and this new assistant. It was the only sanity I could find, having been confined with this woman for so long.
When she’d first arrived, I could have sworn she didn’t have an ounce of perfume on, but now that I’d been sitting in this room with her for what felt like hours, watching the sun set long ago, it was like I was drowning in her honey-sweet aroma.
Was it her hair or the scent of her skin that was slowly driving me mad? Or was it just the sheer torture of knowing what delectable curves were hidden under that department store knockoff of a dress?
Letting my feet fall to the floor, I stood abruptly and stretched my sore back. My body didn’t like a sedentary lifestyle, and my back had been protesting the overuse of my office chair.
“Are you okay?” a timid voice asked.
I looked to my right and saw Cara standing up as well with genuine concern in her eyes.
“Just a stiff back. This damn chair is killing me.”
She was so quiet that I barely heard the sound of her moving around the desk until the warmth of her body was within reach.
“May I?” she asked, holding out her hands toward the spot I’d just been rubbing.
With a suspicious gaze, I nodded, wondering just what my naive little assistant was up to.
“I used to play softball in high school and college—just intramural in college though. Mom and Dad didn’t believe that mixing a college-level sport and a major was a great idea, so I managed to get my excess energy out with the intramural team instead,” she explained as her hands reached out toward my lower back.
I nearly groaned when the heat of her fingers radiated through the thin fabric of my shirt.
Nearly.
I managed to keep some decency, and instead, I focused on her words even if I found the rambling a bit ridiculous.
“Anyway,” she continued as she dug deep into the knot that had formed in my back, “my roommate was the opposite—or at least she had wanted to be. She’d planned on going to state on a full ride for volleyball, but she’d busted her knee in her last season in high school.”
“Bummer,” I grunted.
“Yep, that’s what I said. But it all worked out because she ended up majoring in sports medicine, and she fell in love with it. She’s in her first year of medical school now, and she wants to be an orthopedic surgeon. Even though she can’t play anymore, she’ll be able to help those who do. So, long story short,” she said, making me wonder just what she considered a long story to be in her mind, but I let it go, “when I’d come home from intramural, all banged up and bruised, she’d work out all my kinks, and after four years, I managed to learn a few things.”
“Brilliant,” I replied stoically.
“You should really look into getting a new chair, something with—”
“What the hell?”
I turned to see a man standing by the open door to my office, looking at Cara with a heated expression. I tried to think back to when it had been opened and remembered her taking a restroom break about an hour earlier. Since the office had been cleared out, she’d probably left it open in her haste to return.
And, now, we were being interrupted because of it.
I immediately felt the loss of her touch as I watched her step away and greet the unknown man, “Tyler! What are you doing here?”
His eyes held mine for a brief second before meeting hers. “I was worried. It’s after eight, and I hadn’t heard from you, so I went looking for you. Some janitor said you hadn’t left for the day, and he let me up the elevator.”
Someone is getting fired.
She closed the gap between them and took his hand. “I’m so sorry. We were just going over some of my duties and responsibilities, and time must have gotten away from me.”
“While feeling your boss up? Is that one of your new responsibilities?” he asked, his voice harsh, as his steely gaze drifted back to mine.
“Oh! No. I mean, I was just being helpful. An old trick Melissa showed me when I’d pulled the same muscle after pitching during my freshman year.”
“Right,” he replied, nodding slowly.
“Forgive my rudeness,” Cara interjected, completely oblivious to the obvious tension in the room. “Tyler, this is Mr. Cavenaugh, my boss. Mr. Cavenaugh, this is Tyler Rhodes, my boyfriend.”
He held out his hand first, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, and he waited for me to reach for his outstretched hand. He clearly thought he had something to prove to me—perhaps that he was the better man, the front-runner.
Who knows?
But whatever great competition he’d conjured up in his mind, he believed he’d win the instant I succumbed to his handshake.
“Nice to meet you,” I said slowly, gripping his hand as tightly as he held mine. If we were animals, I believe this would have been the part of the intro where we marked out territory with piss or some shit.
“You as well,” he replied smoothly. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to steal back my girlfriend for the remainder of the evening. She looks a little malnourished.” He laughed, glancing down at her with a wry grin.
“I’m fine. Really,” she insisted, her cheeks flaming red at his bold words.
“Go ahead,” I replied, shifting my stance, as my hands went to my pants pockets. “I insist. We’ll figure the rest of this out tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes roaming mine for some sign of indecision.
“Yes, quite sure. In fact, I have plans of my own. You’d better be on your way, so I won’t be late.”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” she said, picking up the small pile of messages she would have to return the next day and the few notes she’d taken.
I stood there as she walked toward her boyfriend. His hand went around her waist, a possessive gesture, and they walked side by side toward the door.
She suddenly stopped. “Thank you,” she said quietly, “for everything.”
Not used to the sentiment of being thanked, I didn’t know how to respond. Luckily, I didn’t have to. She turned and vanished into the darkened waiting area before I’d had the time to form a single word, and I was left dumbstruck and somewhat disturbed by the feelings swirling in my gut.
Sitting back down in my uncomfortable desk chair, I did the only thing that I knew would bring me back to where I needed to be, back to the man who would get the job done.
Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed my cell phone and punched in the speed-dial number I’d reserved for this very occasion.
“Hello?” the sultry voice on the other end answered.
“Are you working tonight?” I asked.
“No, I’m home,” Jo replied.
“Find a babysitter, and be at my place in an hour.”
I needed to regain my focus.
It was time to get back on schedule.
“You seem distant,” Jo said as we settled back into the sheets, our bodies still slick with the sweat of passion.
“What do you mean?” I asked casually, barely paying attention, as my eyelids began to drift close.
“Well, you’re always a little distant. Removed, I guess would be a better term.”
That got my attention a little, and suddenly, I found myself wide-awake.
Turning toward her, I rested on my elbow. “Are you saying, you didn’t have a good time? Because the three orgasms I heard say otherwise.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she retorted, playfully slapping me on the arm.
I fell back on the bed, facing the ceiling once more.
“What I’m trying to say is”—she sighed dramatically—“you’re always here physically but not mentally—if that makes sense. And I’m never upset by that fact. Actually, I’m glad for it most of the time,” she added. “It makes what we do together a hell of a lot easier. God knows, I don’t need any strings, but tonight… I don’t know. You seemed even less here, like your mind wasn’t just shut off but somewhere else entirely.”
I nodded silently before answering, “Work is killing me.”
She took my response at face value, not bothering to argue its validity. Why bother? She wasn’t here for anything more than what we’d just done.
But it did make me wonder.
Because she was right.
As I watched her re-dress, readying herself to leave, I found myself reliving our evening together, and I came to a startling conclusion.
While I’d been mindlessly fucking Jo, I’d been thinking of someone else.
Someone innocent and sweet. Someone gentle and kind.
And someone completely off-limits.