The intercom on my phone buzzes, making me jump in my seat.

Flora’s tinny, gleeful voice floats into my office. “Jenny? Guess who’s on line two? Wait, I’ll give you a hint: ‘She in yet?’ is all he said.”

No need to guess. I take a deep breath and pick up the phone.

“Good morning Blake, how can I…”

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” His voice is slow, measured…and tight. Uh oh. “You know I hate having to wait to get hold of you.”

“Shit,” I say, grabbing my phone from my purse. Yep, it’s turned off.

It’s only 7:48 am, mind you. I don’t officially start until eight, not that it matters to Old Grumpy.

“Blake, I…”

“Never mind. Go out to the warehouse and get me a box of ‘danger’ signs for the overpass site. I’ll be there to pick them up in a few minutes. We’ll talk then.”

“No problem. I’ll…”

Click.

Are you kidding me? Like Mondays aren’t bad enough!

And this, after working from home all weekend, too.

Half fuming and half bemused, I walk of out of my office towards the warehouse, passing Flora at the reception desk on the way.

“Your boyfriend sounds pissed,” she says, grinning. “What’s up his ass today?”

“Who knows?” I grumble. “He needs ‘danger’ signs for the overpass site. I hope they’re here. And, would you please stop referring to my boss, as my boyfriend? If anyone overhears you, you’ll be the one in ‘danger’!” I mock-glare at her.

She rolls her eyes. “Ooooh, I’m scared!”

“You should be,” I say. “If they fire me, I’m coming to bunk on your couch.”

“Dude, first off, they won’t fire you. Second, you ain’t seen my place. It’s a studio apartment. I don’t have a couch. Shit, I don’t even have a living room,” she laughs.

“Well, if they do…then I’m taking your bed. So…watch it,” I smile at her over my shoulder as I approach the door leading to the warehouse.

It’s an empty threat anyway, since Flora knows that I live at home with my mom. Thank God, I’d have no need or desire to couch-surf anywhere even if I did lose my job.

Wish I could say I had no need or desire for Blake to be my boyfriend, though. Because…damn. The man is under my skin in the worst––and best––kind of way.

It’s not like it’s our employers are literally keeping us apart or anything. There’s no official word on it, but of course workplace romances or sexual shenanigans aren’t exactly encouraged.

According to Flora, once, a manager and an administrator were working late and got caught by the president himself, Reginald Delcroft Sr., while they were doing the deed right on the lunchroom table. Naturally, they were both fired on the spot.

And naturally, Flora told me this, eyes gleaming, when we were sitting at that very table one day, eating lunch.

Yuck!

She claims she heard it from the human resources assistant, who heard it from the president’s son.

Sounds like bullshit to me, but who knows.

No, I wouldn’t get fired just for joking around but I’m still new and in my probationary period. I don’t need to rock the boat or start any rumors by having someone overhear Flora and me being foolish about my silly fantasies.

Besides, the firm is serious enough about all the rest of their rules, especially about compliance with workplace safety regulations.

Which is lucky for me, since that’s why I have this job in the first place. Given the size and scope of the construction projects which Delcroft Group Construction carries out, workplace safety is a vast, complex, and very expensive issue here.

That is as serious as a heart attack. Me and my boss, Blake Cameron, General Manager for Safety & Compliance, are in a constant state of stress and worry over it.

Which only makes me appreciate Flora all the more. Her cheerful craziness keeps us both sane and I love that about her.

But so far, I’m not loving the job or the long hours I’m working. There aren’t enough hours in the day, and I’m tired all the time.

And today, I woke up with a low-level, persistent headache. The kind that hurts more when you bend down. Ugh.

I haven’t been sleeping well since starting here. Last night was no exception and I’m totally exhausted today.

And not helping matters is the fact that when I finally did fall asleep, I had a mixed-up, steamy dream about Blake.

* * *

His voice is all business. He’s looking me in the eye, lecturing me about hazards on the job. “Safety matters,” he says, as his big hands unbutton my blouse, then push it off my shoulders. He makes me recite safety regulations while he kneads my naked breasts, pinching their tips and making me hot and wet. He questions me about the tensile strength of fall arrest lanyards before he bends to suck my nipples, one after the other. I answer him, my body aching with desire. He spins me around, saying “accidents happen, it only takes a second.” He bends me over my desk and then thrusts himself into me, growling. Just as I’m about to come, I hear him say, “I play for keeps, Jenny. You better be sure you want this.”

* * *

I know the dream is pure wishful thinking, but still, it arouses me a lot. Much more than I’m comfortable with.

And the erotic feeling of the dream lingers no matter how hard I try to push it away.

In the warehouse, I bring my request to Don, the equipment manager, and wait while he gets the signs and then generates a packing slip.

“Danger signs for Mr. Happy,” he remarks, as I sign for the goods. “Just got off the phone with him myself. Have fun dealing with him today,” he adds.

“Um, thanks?” I say, raising my eyebrows quizzically.

“You’ll see,” he replies.

Great.

Back in my office, I take a call and I’m just hanging up. Through my open door, I hear the sound of someone arriving.

“Good Morning, Blake,” I hear Flora say.

“She in her office?” His deep, resonant voice is unmistakably annoyed. No greeting, no ‘how-ya-doing’, no nothing.

“She sure is,” Flora replies, while I groan inwardly and try to prepare myself. Oh god, I haven’t even had coffee yet.

There’s a loud ‘thump’ and the jangling of metal parts; the sound of a box of equipment being unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

Heavy, safety-boot-clad footfalls come towards my office. I look up and watch as he approaches my open door.

He removes his scuffed hardhat as he enters my doorway, so tall he has to duck to avoid banging his head on the door framing.

No pressed and pampered executive, Blake is a hands-on manager who dresses for the work site and not the office. Today, he’s in jeans and a button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves, topped with a dusty traffic vest.

A tool-belt laden with assorted hooks and carabiners clanks with every step, making his wide-shouldered physicality even more intimidating.

Intimidating, and well…studly. God, he’s so incredibly masculine. Vaguely aware that my nipples are tingling, I stand up, ready to greet him.

But the look on his face makes the words die in my throat.

In two strides, he’s at edge of my desk, eyes on fire. He brings the smell of the outside with him, and a whiff of coffee, leather and something else. Something good and kind of animal…pure testosterone probably, for all I know.

He throws a crumpled packing slip onto my desk.

“Look at this, Jenny. Somebody fucked this up and I sure hope it wasn’t you.”

I open my mouth and then shut it again. Here I am, having wet dreams about this guy, yet he has no trouble getting my back up in the space of a few words.

Pursing my lips, I pick up the packing slip and look at it. There are only a few items and I don’t need to look it up in the system to know this order isn’t one of mine. Thank God.

“Nope. Wasn’t me, Blake. What’s wrong with it?”

He frowns, then plants his feet the way he does, taking a deep breath. He runs a hand through his crew-cut hair and clears his throat. His eyes are a smidge less fierce, but no less smoldering.

“Half this order is the wrong item,” he says, in a slightly more reasonable tone, “and the other half is missing. See where it says twenty-five fall arrest harnesses…? Where the fuck are they? We needed those two days ago on the overpass site. The suits are up my ass and this is delaying construction.”

Not good. Delays cost tens of thousands a day. He sees my eyes widen and his own clear, hazel eyes hold my gaze remorselessly.

“Yeah,” he nods. “You think that’s bad? These safety hooks are off-shore garbage. Look at this!” He hands one to me. “We have twenty new workers who need these to work suspended sixty feet in the air.”

“I know. I…”

“You don’t know! Listen! This morning, I found them using these cheap lookalikes. You couldn’t trust these to hold the weight of a kitten. I had to go around the whole fucking site taking these things back from each and every worker before someone got killed.”

The type of hook we need are a special kind, made from forged steel. They’re heavy, and they have a specifically designed hasp and locking mechanism. With a five-to-one safety factor, they are strong enough to hold the weight of a car.

The one I’m holding looks similar, but it’s much lighter and flimsier. It’s aluminum, and not designed to bear much weight. There are no stamps or markings on it. It’s for light duty at best, like stowing rope coils or hanging equipment; ladders or something.

“Oh, shit,” I say.

“Yeah.” He takes the hook back from my hands. “Getting all these things back from the workers took me over an hour. Then I had to sit in traffic on my way here. As we speak, all those new workers are still on the clock, getting paid thirty-two bucks an hour to stand around doing nothing.”

A cold feeling sweeps through me. This is a major fuck-up, all right. Blake’s hard to please but he isn’t wrong to be angry in this case.

I start towards the warehouse. “We must have the correct hooks here. It’ll only take a second to get it together and you can be on your way back out.”

“I already checked with Don. We have no safety hooks here whatsoever. Those are across the city at the supplier’s warehouse. I don’t have time for this shit, Jenny. It’s bad enough that I’ll have to go pick up the harnesses myself now too, which are in a warehouse at the other end of town.”

He steps closer, into my personal space, his gaze holding mine before drifting down to the packing slip, which he plucks from my fingers. “You’re gonna have to go get the hooks and get them out to the overpass site. Traffic is bad but we need them ASAP. I already gave the supplier a purchase order and let them know you’re coming. So…get your butt moving.”

“Okay. I just need to…” But, he’s already hurrying away, leaving me hanging.

And, if I’m honest, he’s leaving me with my panties slightly damp as well. Jesus. Why does he have to be so hot?

I gather my purse, my phone and my car keys and go out to the front desk on shaky legs.

Flora’s grinning. “Holy shit, Jenny. Is it just me or was that sexy as hell? I think I creamed a little!”

We both chuckle. “You heard that, huh?”

“Well yeah! Your door’s wide open. Good thing it’s too early for anyone else to be around.” Her eyes glint. “I told you he was hot for you, didn’t I? Didn’t I? When are you two gonna hook up already?”

I wish! “If he’s hot for me, he sure has a strange way of showing it.”

“No, no, listen. You know how, when you’re in grade school and a boy puts gum in your hair? It’s like that…they only harass the girls they like, see? They ignore the girls they don’t like. Based on that theory, I think that Blake is actually head-over-heels in love with you.”

She snorts laughter and I smile too, but my head throbs at the same time.

I rub my forehead. Feels like this headache is threatening to grow into a migraine.

She’s looking at me with a concerned expression now. “You okay? You don’t look so hot.”

“Yeah. Woke up with a headache today. It’s nothing. Mostly, I’m just stressed.” I take a step towards the door, then stop. “Shit, I meant to ask Blake which supplier I’m picking up those hooks from, but he took off too fast. Now look at me, I’m rushing out the door without even knowing where I’m supposed to be going.”

“If it’s in the system, I can look it up for you real quick,” Flora offers.

“It should be, he said there’s a p.o. for it. Thanks.”

I lean against the reception desk and wait anxiously as she searches for the order.

“No probs. If Blake was all angry-hot for me like he is for you, I’m sure I’d be all freaked out about it, too.”

“I’m not freaked out!” She shoots me a look. “Okay, I’m a little freaked out. I just wish I was as sure as you are that he does like me. Not all men appreciate curvy girls, y’know,” I say, giving voice to one of my biggest insecurities.

“Oh, please! Not that shit again. I told you, I’ve seen him when he thinks no one’s looking. His eyeballs are practically glued to you. He watches your ass when you walk away from him like he’s waiting for it to do tricks.” She raises her brows. “Trust me, Blake isn’t blind to your charms.”

“Watching my ass? Seems like all he cares about is working my ass off.”

“Not work it off, just work it,” she mutters, grinning.

“Heh. Welp, doesn’t matter. He’s too old for me. And too experienced, probably. And he probably prefers fast, loose women.”

“You got him all figured out, huh, Jen?” She shakes her head. “I’ll bet you’re wrong.”

Her printer spits out a page. “Here.” She hands it to me.

I look at the address and groan. “Yep, it’s all the way across town.”

“Better get going. Maybe if you do good and you’re, you know, real nice to him…” she thrusts her hips back and forth, miming the sexual act, “…you can soothe that savage beast.”

Doing that makes her look like such a doofus, I can’t help but giggle. “Jesus, Flora, you’ve got a one-track-mind.”

“Yeah, like you’re not thinking it too,” she says, dropping me a cheerful wink.

I head out the door, smiling despite myself because, dammit if the girl isn’t right.

Still. I know it’s stupid of me to be entertaining these kinds of thoughts. Stupid––probably––to think a man like Blake could be interested in me.

It’s totally unrealistic. Bound to end in tears.

Too bad my heart’s too foolish to care.