Zoey
One thing is for sure—Randy doesn’t take hints very well. He’s texted me so many times I had to mute my phone. They started off worried about my “dilemma” but then turned into random talk about his online adventure.
Amazing writing. Sheer openness. Impressive graphics.
Whatever the hell that means. I have no idea what game he’s talking about, but he kept sending texts—one after another—describing his adventure. Sunday was just as bad. Even after I sent him a reply after midnight and told him I was going to bed, he didn’t stop sending them.
I yawn, reaching for my coffee mug when a man in a blue uniform carrying flowers approaches my desk looking quite uncertain.
“I’m looking for a Zoey who works beside Mr. Langley. The lady at the front desk pointed me this way. I have no last name for the recipient.”
“That’s me,” I say dreading who these may be from.
He extends the brightly colored rose and lily assortment with a large smile. “Have a great day.”
Had an amazing date. Hope these brighten your day. Can’t wait to do it again.
Text you later.
Randy
Laughter burns my throat. An amazing date? What damn game was he thinking he was playing?
“Dressing up the office?”
Easton’s question causes me to jump slightly. I roll my eyes. “Not quite.”
He plucks the card from the plastic holder. I watch a storm harden his gaze before blinking it away. “Seems you have an admirer.”
I puff a chuckle and roll my eyes again. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Everything okay?”
“For me? Yes. For him? No. I bailed on this amazing date he claims we had.” I air quote the word amazing. “Embarrassed to say but I ended up with a planned unexpected phone call.”
Amusement dances in his eyes and he arches a brow. “Emergency phone call? Must’ve been a horrific date.”
“My best friend’s pretend hamster got loose while making babies with my pretend hamster and the pretend cat was out on the hunt.” I lift a shoulder. “Bad’s putting it nicely.”
His laugh gets stuck in his throat. “Damn.”
Desperate to get away from the award-winning shame, I ask, “Did you have a good week?”
He nods. “Much needed. I need you to set up a meeting with Chris from marketing.”
“You’re pretty booked during the day for the rest of the week,” I say.
Pleasure braids his face. “You didn’t even look.”
I grin proudly. “It’s memorized, sir.”
Yep. No more embarrassment by not knowing his schedule.
“Make it a late meeting and order food, please.”
I move the flowers to the other side of my desk, out of the way, and out of my view.
He spins back toward me with a smirk. “Did adding please make me less of a dickhead?” he jests.
I choke on a giggle. “A little, but it did nothing for your laziness.”
Oh, that was super flirty…
He winks, which sends my stomach on a tumble, and then disappears behind his office door.
When Chris shows up, so does the whole marketing department, and they file into Easton’s office.
“Zoey?” Easton leans out of his door. “You’ll be joining us.”
Everyone is piled around the table while Easton stands at the end, but I sit quietly in a chair behind them and jot down everything as they discuss it. While away, Easton was propositioned by developers who are building a new home security alarm panel. They want his input and ideas and then afterward, they want him to start implementing it immediately. Although I know Langley Security also handles home security, I’ve only seen him work deeply in commercial.
Darryl and Chris are the most talkative, the most involved in the conversation, outside of Easton of course. The rest of the team either has their noses on the papers or are intently listening without any input or opinions.
“I want something catchy and easy to remember without being cheesy,” Easton says, explaining he needs a great marketing strategy and tagline.
The room falls silent to the crickets and frustration laces the wrinkles between his brows. I mean, this is his marketing team. They should be spitting out ideas like the ringing of the stock market bell.
“What about security ensuring your safety?” My thoughts fly out my mouth and all eyes flick to me. Suddenly, I feel like sinking underneath the seat’s cushion. Both of Easton’s brows raise and the corner of his lips have a slight tic. “You’re supposed to be safe in your own home, but people don’t feel like they are. They’re still afraid. Tweak it so it’ll work as a reminder they’re safe in your hands.” I shrug, trying to ease off my discomfort of being out of my league. I couldn’t sell hand warmers to an Eskimo. Besides, knowing me, I probably just plucked that from a commercial I’ve heard and am about to get fired for plagiarism or trademark intrusion.
“Find out if it’s taken. I like the sound of it,” he orders to Chris.
He peers back at me with a fascinated smile, and it sends a buzzing warmth to flow over my skin. It lingers for a second—a ghost peek—and then he’s back to business, explaining how different the functionality is and how they’re moving from buttons to touchscreen, which will eliminate most of his old panels.
He describes the easy-to-activate panic button integrated on the home screen, but something doesn’t sound right to me.
“If it’s easy, won’t you experience accidental emergency calls?” I interrupt.
He shifts, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I asked the very question. The developer stated we had a few different options to choose from. One being a tap, where the individual would have to press it X number of times before activating the emergency call. The other option is a long press for a certain amount of time.”
“As a female, a long press during an emergency would feel like an eternity if I was panicking, therefore it would more than likely be abandoned. But tapping it would be easier with hands that are already shaking. Maybe in quick succession?”
Heat creeps up my neck causing my skin to prickle from his grin. I shift slightly, trying to relieve the pressure building between my legs.
He continues, but I’m gone, lost in the heat. My focus is no longer on his words or work. It’s him.
He ditched his suit jacket and stripped from his tie moments before the meeting, leaving him in only a crisp white dress shirt with his cuffs rolled up to his forearms and his black slacks. His chest is impressive, not matching my idea of what a CEO would look like. Instead, it’s large, wide, muscly, and it tapers down to slim hips. His arms look strong and safe, enticing as they offer protection and warmth, like they’d hold you with ease as he makes love to you.
He takes small steps in one direction, and then the other, gracefully dominating his area. His lips are appetizing as they round each word they form, his tongue occasionally sliding across to wet them. His eyes are a dazzling green, penetrating when they land on you. You could fall into them as they drink you up and hold you hostage. I bet with the mood right, there’s no refusing him. His—
“Miss Campbell…”
My name rips me from the fantastic visions and I come slamming back to earth with a small jump and staring into a set of very knowing eyes. Mortification shatters me.
“Can you grab some waters?” His tone is alluring. “Cold waters, please.”
Oh, my God. I want to vanish into the tiles of the floor.
I nod without voice or eye contact, too embarrassed that once again, I’ve been busted gawking him. On trembling legs, I rush into his closet and grab several waters. With shaking hands, I pass them out. Conveniently, the food delivery chimes and I rush the hell out to get it. The catering staff follows me back into the very room I need to escape from and lays out the platters on the table before leaving.
I escort them back to the elevators and then sneak into the bathroom.
Me: I just got busted completely ogling Easton BY EASTON!!
Britney: LOL Please tell me you two were alone???
Me: I couldn’t be that lucky. It was in the middle of a meeting with twelve other people.
Britney: You’re in the bathroom?”
Being friends for so long, she knows I need the cold water.
Me: Yes.
Seconds later my phone rings.
“He doesn’t know what you were thinking of. You could’ve been dreaming about Channing Tatum’s fine ass. I wouldn’t sweat it,” she tries calming me down.
“Oh. He knows. The way he looked at me. God, Brit. He sent me for cold waters. I can’t believe this.” I drop my face into my hand.
She’s cackling. “He’s used to women checking him out. I bet you’re making a bigger deal out of this than you should be.”
“I’m his assistant, Brit.”
“Go back in there and own it. So what you checked him out. He’s hot as hell and he damn well knows it. There’s isn’t a woman alive who hasn’t snuck a peek at his sexy existence.” She pauses. “Just think of all the women in the world who have crushes on their bosses, except they have old and wrinkly balls. Go in there and picture him having those. Betcha that will keep you from fantasizing.”
I laugh. “Do not ruin my visions.”
“Then be proud he’s drop dead gorgeous and you get to work right beside him. He could stink and smell like moth balls. He could be grumpy and like to yell with horrible breath.”
I inhale. “I’ll call you later and tell you how I survived this. I’ve got to go back in there.”
We hang up and I place my hands under the ice-cold water in an attempt to cool myself the hell down.
It doesn’t work.
Slowly. Reluctantly. Placing one heavy foot in front of the other, I make my way back into the meeting. I stick toward the back of the room as I go to my seat. I do everything in my power not to look at him, scared he’ll only confirm he knows exactly what I thinking. I doodle while listening, keeping my eyes peeled on the paper, and occasionally jot down something that makes it to my ears that seems important. Everyone around me has made a plate to eat, but I’ve lost my appetite.
Thirty minutes later, he dismisses the meeting and I’m on my feet and out the door in a flash. I’m not sticking around to talk…to face him. I don’t care if he needs anything, nor do I give a crap about anyone else right now. I need to get the hell out of here immediately.
I toss my notebook on my desk, snatch up my purse, and slip into the elevator crammed with other employees.
This has to pass. Hopefully sooner rather than later. I can’t be crushing on my boss. I’ll end up losing my job.
The moment I shove into my apartment, my phone buzzes and dread fills me, worried it’ll be Easton calling me out again and ready to blast me for my unprofessional gawking…
Randy: I know you’re tired. You’ve been running through my mind all day.
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Surely he doesn’t think that was good?
Me: This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in you or having a relationship.
Screw it. I’m already having a bad day. Might as well go out with a bang.
Randy: Was it the cheesy line? Sorry. I’ll take it back.
Me: It wasn’t. I just don’t have the time to date. Sorry again.
My phone falls silent and I drop face first to my bed.
Today has sucked…