The first week and a half on the job is mostly uneventful. I get into a nice little daily routine.

I arrive to work earlier than everyone else. Seven is early enough for this, since most of the office rolls in around seven thirty or eight. I check my emails for around ten or fifteen minutes and take care of anything pressing.

Around seven thirty or eight, I pull up my google doc and write my book for about an hour. As the rest of the office gradually arrives and takes their desks, I smile internally at all of the head nods I get.

Wow, that girl is here so early and working.

Yes, that’s right. I’m working extra hard.

On my romance novel.

And my inspiration, well let’s just say it doesn’t hurt to have a hot boss on the same floor.

Yes, I admit it--in spite of Sebastian’s asshole-ish reputation, I have a building attraction for how he looks in a suit.

Sebastian’s not there every day, since some days he’s traveling. But on the days he is there, I feel a connection and, on edge isn’t exactly the right term. It’s actually a bit frustrating that I can’t put the right word on how I feel about us.

Friday morning, I’m writing a particularly sexy scene at the beginning of my book. The female hero, who I’ve named Lacy, hasn’t hooked up with her boss Zane yet. But the sexual tension is palpable for Zane and Lacy. It’s a very over-the-top scene about when she drops a pen in his office and does a little bending-and-snapping to get it à la Legally Blonde, the movie with Reese Witherspoon. She turns and gauges his reaction--and catches a little glint of naughtiness in his eye. Zane doesn’t have his tie on today like usual--just a suit coat. And he’s got an extra button that he’s taken down that leaves Lacy wondering if maybe, just maybe she’s got a chance with the man everyone in her world wants.

But the question remains, why would Zane want little Lacy?

I take a sip of my coffee, then sigh deeply and toss my head back a little, resting my hands on the keyboard.

Why am I even writing this novel? Do I really think their romance is realistic? What is it with me and guys in positions of power?

In my mind’s eye, my muse appears. If there ever was a muse in my life for a powerful, attractive man, it’s so obvious who it would be: Sebastian Blackwell.

Sebastian Blackwell, the man who I had a crush on when I worked as a server at age fifteen and he was the owner of the restaurant.

The only billionaire Blackwell has ever had to my knowledge. He’s got it all--young, rich, and handsome.

I consider the next words I’m writing in my book, and I wonder, really: what makes a man like Sebastian settle down? Does he just look for the hottest woman available and date her, like the Instagram model Crystal showed me? Or is there something else he takes into consideration?

I glance at the clock on my computer. Eight-twenty. Not quite enough time to write another full scene before the others in the office arrive. Should Lacy and Zane hook up already?

No. I’m going to toy with them a little bit more. I’ll just end this scene with some heavy sexual tension.

As I begin to type the scene, the air goes out of me when I hear the voice behind me.

“What are you working on, Brett?”

I whip my head around and see Sebastian standing holding his coffee, smirking ever so slightly.

“Excuse me?” I say, trying not to gasp.

“I said you’re here early. You always are. It’s impressive. You’d be surprised how few employees even come in one minute earlier than they have to. So I’m just curious what you’re working on.”

“I was...checking on some emails, and I sort of figured I’d write a report,” I say, doing my best to contain my nervousness and shaky voice.

“Oh,” he says, his voice still full of that deep morning timbre. “What sort of report?”

I feel my face tingle a little as I hesitate.

“It’s a document detailing the themes that Blackwell farmers are most likely to open us to us about. Like, a cheat sheet,” I lie.

“Oh. A cheat sheet. Well thank you for your extra effort.”

“Anything for you.”

“So is everything going well with Bob? He can be a handful, I know. But he means well.”

I minimize the document I’m working on so my emails show up, then spin out of my chair and stand up, grabbing a pen out of nervousness. “Bob’s fine,” I say. “I sometimes get confused by his directions, though.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Well,” I shrug, fiddling with the pen. “Like the twenty-calls-every-morning rule. It makes no sense to me. We don’t track the numbers to make sure they are in the system. I could literally call twenty of my friends--making sure they have the Blackwell county area code--and I’d have my calls done for the day. Obviously I don’t do that. But I think when we’re talking about dealing with these small town farmers, we don’t want to be barraging them with phone calls. We’re better off having quality conversations and getting to know them.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, as if checking to make sure I’m done speaking. He has a habit of being silent for a few beats after I--or most people--finish their sentences. This puts me on edge, so I keep talking.

“So, I get to work early just to make sure I’m in a relaxed mood and have my emails done, so I can worry about the calls. They stress me out a little, if I’m being honest.”

Sebastian nods. “Cold calling can be tough. But you were hired for a reason. You’re spectacular with people. I’m sure you get that all the time, though.”

My cheeks flush red and I twirl the pen in my hand even harder.

“Thanks,” is all I say. We share a moment in silence.

Sebastian’s dark brown eyes flash around the sales floor. He takes another drink of coffee, and his neck flexes. I wonder if he’s stressed out. How could a man run a multi-billion dollar enterprise and not be stressed out?

Yet he seems so calm and collected all the time.

It’s an ungodly attractive combination. I take another sip of my coffee.

Sebastian stares into me with his mocha brown eyes.

And I stare back at him.

Shoot. I panic a little, silently. Am I being awkward? He knows I was looking at him before in his office. Can he know I have a little baby crush on him?

No. Just because he’s a billionaire doesn’t mean he can read minds. He’s probably this nice to all of his employees.

My pen-twirling starts to break records, and I drop the thing on the carpet, right at Sebastian’s feet.

Without thinking, I bend down to grab it, and before I have the time to realize what I’m doing, my face is damn near in Sebastian’s crotch as I pick the thing up.

I don’t think he sees it, but my jaw drops a little as I get up close and personal with his thing.

That’s gotta be the pleats. No way is that his...cucumber.

And then I swear it moves. Something between his legs moves.

I snap my head back up, and for a brief second, our eyes meet.

“My pen fell,” is all I can say, and I do my best not to let a look of absolute fright take over.

Sebastian smirks. “Brett, I don’t even know what to do with you,” he shakes his head and laughs, his laughter booming through the floor. A few other employees glance over.

“You can give me a raise since I’m awesome,” I wink, trying to distract our conversation from the fact that I just clearly checked out my boss’s crotch.

“I think you’re the one who’ll be giving me a raise,” he winks, and as if realizing what he just insinuated, he quickly follows it up. “By closing some deals this week!”

“I should get back to work,” he says. “But I’m serious about this Brett. If you ever need anything--you just let me know. I realize the sales floor is eighty percent male, and sometimes the guys can be a bit much. I want you to be as comfortable as possible here, so you can do your thing. You’ve got a lot of talent. I can’t teach talent. But I can maximize it. I’m serious--my door is always open. For anything you need.”

“Anything?” I say, my heart beating faster than it should be.

“Anything.” He glances over his shoulder and rakes a hand through his hair. “I gotta go. See you later, Killer.”

I spin back into my chair, my heart beating a million miles a minute. Was I imagining it, or was that conversation laced with some serious flirtation?

I pull my novel back up with a sigh.

Lacy is so sexy and smooth when she bends and snaps. Why am I so dang awkward?

I guess real life is never as smooth as romance novels.

I glance around the office one more time, and the cubicles around me are still mostly empty. Probably because it’s a Friday, people are taking their time arriving to work. Good. Because what I’m about to do, no one can see.

I run a hand up my thighs, under my skirt. I touch my panties, and my suspicion is confirmed.

I’m not just wet. I’m soaked through.

This is going to be an interesting work day.