Mia

What? He wants me to come with? What the...?

I hurriedly grab a pad of paper and a pencil, feeling like some kind of Neanderthal or something. It’s been so long since I’ve handwritten anything, much less with a pencil, for crying out loud. Most of the time I’m typing on my phone with my thumb. Sometimes on the computer.

But I sure as hell don’t know the protocol for a conference call. I barely even know one is.

Anyway.

I follow him and this guy Tate to the boardroom, trailing them both as they hurriedly go over strategy and rapid-fire information, trying not to stare too obviously at Sawyer’s perfect, flexing butt as we pass several other offices. Offices filled with people who seem to know how to work properly, not with pity-hire interns who may or may not be way out of her—my—depth.

Damn, Sawyer looks so good in a suit.

I’ve never seen a man look this good, I marvel, as he strategizes with Tate. He’s so powerful and confident, so secure in whatever he’s saying and every move he makes. Even though he’s fully clothed and covered now, he’s every bit as sexy as he was just after working out earlier.

Maybe even sexier.

Tate keeps glancing back at me and smiling. I wonder what that’s all about. He looks like nothing more than a kid to me even though he’s probably older than I am. Probably not by much, but still. Then again, anyone would look like a little kid next to Sawyer. And Tate’s cute, but he’s no competition. Tate is trim and sleek, while Sawyer’s shoulders are so broad, his jaw so powerful.

Sawyer Mills is like an old time movie star. Like sex on legs.

“Um, Mia?” says Tate.

I look up and realize he’s been holding the door for me.

“Oh, yeah, um, thanks,” I tell him and his eyes linger a little too long on the top button of my blouse.

Is this place just a hotbed of sex? Or maybe I’m just misreading all the signals today? But no. I know that look. There’s really no mistaking it coming from a guy like Tate.

Are all offices like this? This weird mix of formal and informal, classy and sexy, business and pleasure? I really don’t know, but I kind of hope so.

I take a seat at the giant boardroom table and ready my paper and pencil. I’m not sure what to write. I guess I observe. Oh, God. What if I’m supposed to say something? Surely Sawyer would’ve given me a heads-up if that was the case… right?

Neither he nor Tate seem to be paying much attention to me at the moment, so I do my best to stay quiet and unobtrusive. Not the easiest task since we’re the only three people in the room, but it’s worth a shot.

I write the date at the top of my paper, telling myself not to dot any i's with circles or draw any hearts around anything. I haven't been following the back and forth conversation between Sawyer and Tate, but they both seem tense. Tenser than just a few minutes ago, at least. It's probably because they have this big conference call. I write, ‘Big Conference Call' at the top of my page and slide the notepad onto my lap.

Real professional, Mia. You’d better hope nobody asks to see your copy of the notes…

I hear Aileen patching the call through and then a Japanese man is both on Sawyer’s laptop and up on the screen in the conference room. He looks like a friendly person, smiling and greeting Sawyer with a hearty word and a small bow. I write friendly Japanese man.

Yep. This is what I'm calling my job today. Taking the most obvious notes in the history of note-taking. Hopefully looking more useful than I'm feeling.

I do my best to keep from staring at Mr. Mill—Sawyer, as his eyes flash and he gesticulates with his hands. He’s telling the Japanese man, Mr. Nakamura, about the international regulations of importing things or… something. Mr. Nakamura doesn’t seem to like what he’s saying but Sawyer doesn’t seem worried at all, and by all appearances is holding his own.

The only problem with trying not to stare at Sawyer is that I keep shifting my eyes over to Tate, who seems to be maybe enjoying my glances a little too much. He's raising his eyebrows at me and grinning.

I hope the look I’m giving him says I’m not interested in you, Tate. But either I’m not very good at conveying thoughts with my looks or he’s not very receptive to the message. I’m pretty sure he just winked at me.

Just. Wonderful.

I look down at my page and scribble some more random notes—be charming but professional—whatever that means. It seems like that’s the business way to get through things. Or maybe the life way. Work on charm. Professionalism equals charm, I write.

Mr. Nakamura begins to smile again and Sawyer looks happy as well. I guess the deal is going to go through. I let my fingers trace the patterns of the grain in the thick wood at the side of the conference table as they wrap things up.

I'm not sure why I'm here if it's for any reason at all, but I sure like that Sawyer thinks I should be with him. His protege. His protected one.

Under his wing.

Even if I’d rather be under his desk.

I feel my cheeks heat up as the thought distracts me, then push it down and smile at the others in a professional and hopefully charming way as they shut down the conference call.

Right.

Professional.

Charming.

Not sexual.

It’s not so difficult with a little practice. Maybe.

Sawyer and Tate look in my direction again, and I notice that Tate is full on smiling at me, ear to ear. He looks… a little too eager. Like a puppy who doesn’t know when to quit.

“Well I guess that’s lunch,” Sawyer says, triumphant. “Good job, everyone.”

"Thanks, Mr. Mills," says Tate. "Hey, Mia," he turns to me. I panic for a second. "Do you want to go for lunch? I can show you around the cafeteria. Today is Friday and on Fridays, they have a fantastic pasta special—"

"Mia will be having lunch with me," growls Sawyer before Tate can even finish his sentence. Sawyer's normally light gold eyes look dark and more ominous for a second before he straightens his jacket.

Is he angry about something? Is he protecting me? It’s such an abrupt change from just a few moments ago that it throws me off guard.

"Of course, Mr. Mills," says Tate, obviously chagrined. It seems like our boss's sudden mood swing has thrown Boy Wonder off guard, too. It makes me almost feel sorry for him for a moment. "It wasn't on the calendar, so I didn't know. I didn't mean to step on any toes."

Sawyer just looks at him wordlessly. This is getting super awkward.

“Why are we having lunch?” I ask, hoping to break the tension.

I hope I didn't do anything wrong. It would be pretty ridiculous to get in trouble on the first day. Especially since I haven't been told to do much of anything yet. Or maybe I'm just supposed to know… it's all a little overwhelming.

"I need you to see my whole process," Sawyer says, giving a half-shrug as if his cryptic answer is supposed to clear things up. "It's a business meeting."

Tate makes a production of gathering the notes and shutting off the projector, clearly sulking. My earlier moment of pity passes. The pouty, sulky thing only works for some guys, and Tate isn’t one of those guys.

“Of course,” I answer, giving my best professionally charming smile and holding my notepad against my chest. The look I’m going for is confident businesswoman, but I can’t help feeling like I’m in high school again. “That makes sense.”

It doesn’t make sense, not to me at least. But nothing else has made much sense to me today, so that doesn’t mean much.

What it does mean is that Sawyer apparently wants me by his side all day—and that means that I’ll be spending all day lusting over him.

I won’t get a break at all.

It’s going to be torture. Torture of the best kind.