“What time will you be finished?” Dylan asks as he pulls into a car park outside my work.

It’s Sunday afternoon, just after lunch, and I asked him to drop me off for a few hours so I could get a head start on next week’s work. I’ve been working at North & Co for three days and love it so much that I want to make a good impression by being ahead of the game as much as I can.

“Can I text you? It’ll probably be around five or so.”

He rests his hand on the steering wheel and peers at me over the rim of his aviators. Hitting me with one of his trademark sexy smiles that women line up for, he nods. “Sure thing, babe.” He then taps his cheek, which is something he only does with me.

I grin and lean over to kiss him. It’s something we’ve always done during the entirety of our ten-year friendship. This time, however, he surprises me when he takes hold of my face and murmurs, “Be careful, Char.”

I frown. “How so?”

He lets me go and pulls his aviators off. “You’re working for a guy you’re into, and you’re working days you don’t need to. That causes me concern. I don’t want to see you get hurt. So be careful, okay?”

I grip his cheeks and squeeze them while blasting a smile his way. “Aww, you love me, Dyl. But there’s nothing to be worried about. I’ve hardly seen Owen since my first morning there. He was all about having coffee with me, and then, nothing. It was like he disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Yeah, well I’m keeping my eye out, and if I see any shit going down like it did with Lincoln, I’m hauling your ass outta here faster than you can argue with me.” My third-last boyfriend sucked me in with lies, and I fell hard for them and him. The relationship ended very messily, and Dylan has been super protective ever since.

My smile turns into a grin. “I like it when you get all bossy and manly on me.” Grabbing my bag, I exit the car. “I’ll text you when I’m ready. And as far as Owen hurting me like Lincoln did, that’s not going to happen because while I might be into him, he’s my boss and I’m not about to ruin this opportunity to finally get ahead in life.”

After I wave him off, I head inside the building that houses the North & Co offices. Owen’s company takes up five floors at the top of the building. The security guard clears me to enter, and a couple of minutes later, I step onto the floor my cubicle is on.

I love the quiet that surrounds me. As I walk to my desk, I confirm I’m the only one here, which makes me more than happy. While I like people, I prefer my own company. Plus, I’ll get more work done without any interruptions.

But first, coffee. And music.

I grab my headphones out of my bag and connect them to my phone, pulling up my current favourite album that’s on repeat. A little bit of Kesha on a Sunday will get my brain working. Taking my Smurf mug with me, I dance my way into the kitchen in search of coffee.

I’m in the middle of what could be one of my best dance sequences yet when I execute the final twirl and collide with a hard chest. Strong arms circle me, stopping me from falling, and just as the song I’m listening to finishes, Owen’s deep voice rumbles, “Who would have known that you can dance as well as you can analyse numbers and rip dresses?”

My heart beats faster as I stare up into those blue eyes of his that make me think of naked swimming. My brain processes the data in front of me as fast as it can, but my scattered thoughts and emotions are too much for it to keep pace. I yank my headphones off and exclaim, “Owen! What are you doing here?”

He chuckles, still holding me. “I own the place.”

“You work on Sundays?” God, Charlize, could you have asked a more stupid question? Of course he works weekends. He owns the damn company. Way to show Owen my intelligence.

Letting me go, he says, “I try not to, but lately I have been.”

He sounds and looks exhausted, and I wonder what’s keeping him up at night. “You want me to make you a coffee?” I ask.

The tiredness lining his face eases a little as he nods. “A coffee with you is just what the doctor ordered.”

Butterflies don’t just whoosh through my tummy at his words; they bloody slam into it. Millions of them. And my naked swimming fantasies? I’m not imagining swimming anymore. Nope, I’m all about being naked in other ways with him.

Trying to slow my mind and heart rate down, I quickly move to the coffee machine and busy myself with making his drink. Owen, on the other hand, has other ideas. It seems he doesn’t care how fast my heart is beating right now or that he’s causing dirty thoughts to take over my brain. He follows me and stands too damn close for my liking.

Well, I mean, I like it. Just a little too much. And we are work colleagues after all now, so him and me and close should never be a real thing.

“Why are you here today?” he asks.

His proximity and deep rumble break my concentration, and my hand jerks, splashing milk all over the counter and on his shirt. Staring wide-eyed up at him, I shriek, “Shit! Sorry!” Grabbing the tea towel, I attempt to clean as much milk off his shirt as possible.

I’m like a mad woman in my effort, and I don’t stop until every drop of milk on his shirt is dry. “It’ll probably smell. Milk is nasty like that. Do you have something you can spray your shirt with? I’ve got perfume, but I’m fairly sure you’re not going to want to smell like Flowerbomb for the rest of the day. I mean, I wouldn’t judge you or anything. It’s gotta smell better than milk.”

It’s not until I’ve asked my question that I look up at him and find him watching me with amusement. “It’ll be fine,” he says, his voice full of that amusement.

Narrowing my eyes at me, I point at his mouth and ask, “What is that?”

His lips twitch. “What?”

I jab my finger in the direction of his lips again. “That! You’re trying not to laugh at me. What did I do that was so funny?”

Finally he allows a smile to spread out across his face. “I have never met a woman quite like you, Charlize. Every minute with you is a ride I didn’t see coming.”

I pull a face. “As in a funny ride? Or a ride you can’t wait to get off because it’s too crazy?” I’m convinced he sees me as a crazy woman. How couldn’t he after every interaction we’ve had?

He bends and his lips brush my ear. “As in the kind of ride I want to experience over and over.”

His words thrill me, and I shiver with pleasure. When he pulls his face away and his eyes meet mine, I see desire there. It’s unmistakable. I’m not sure how I’ve missed it before.

A delicious tension curls itself between us while I watch him silently, trying to figure out what to say next. Trying to work out where we can go from here. Hopping on that kind of ride over and over with your boss is surely not the smartest thing to do.

Owen’s phone sounds with a text, effectively saving both of us from making a choice we might both regret later. He pulls it out of his pocket and after reading the text, mutters, “Shit.”

I frown. “Is everything okay?”

Glancing back up at me, he shakes his head. “No. Can you spare me some time so we can go over some data?”

I want to say that I’m not sure whether the excitement I feel at his question comes from my love of analysing data or from the thought of spending time with him, but I know exactly where it comes from. And it has nothing whatsoever to do with data. “Yes. Let me finish making this coffee and then I’m all yours.”

I realise that was a poor choice of words when his eyes heat with desire again. He quickly forces it away, though, and says, “Thank you.”

This is going to be a long afternoon. A good one, because how can spending an afternoon with Owen North be bad? But a long one that may end up with me throwing myself at him. I’m pretty sure that if my mother had given me a handbook for getting through life, it would have said, “Don’t fuck your boss.” She didn’t give me that handbook, though, so I’m going to blame any bad decisions I make this afternoon on her.