Page 2 of The Virgin Intern


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“That explains why I’ve never seen you before.”

“Yes it does.”

“Well,” he says, “if that one ever gives you trouble again, you can use the one on my floor. I’m downstairs on eleven.”

I look at him, and he doesn’t seem to be kidding. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you.”

“No problem. We’ve all had first days. I could tell you some stories that would make this one look tame.”

“Oh?” Please tell me something that makes me feel better.

He grins, “Let’s keep that for after your first day is over so we can fully compare.”

“I’d like that,” I say. I smooth my skirt, trying not to look awkward.

“I’ll see you around.” He nods and starts to turn away.

“Don’t you want this back?” I hold out his handkerchief.

He’s grinning again. “It’s easier for you to explain that you borrowed it than it is for me to explain that it got wet by cleaning your breasts.”

My mouth drops open, and my brain short circuits on the image of him cleaning my breasts.

“I’m all out of handkerchiefs, but if you find toner anywhere else,” his eyes roll down the length of my body, “I’m sure that I can find something else to clean you with.”

The little smile on his face tells me he’s not talking about a towel. My whole body heats and I feel like the room is now a sauna. I’ve never had a man look at me like that before—like he’s ready and willing to take me right there. I know I should probably feel offended.

I don’t.

It feels…hot.

He’s holding my gaze, and I can’t move. It’s almost like he knows that he’s making me squirm and he enjoys it. Of course now is the time when my brain absolutely refuses to come up with any witty comebacks. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmur.

If lightning could strike me dead, that would be great. The most attractive man you’ve ever seen is hitting on you, and you’ll keep it in mind?

“Believe me, I will too.”

I think I might actually be on fire, and I start babbling to keep my mouth from dropping to the floor and to keep from thinking about the fact that he’ll be thinking about me. “Thank you again for offering your copier. And thank you for touching me. I mean, cleaning me off. No. I mean—”

Just then the door opens, and I nearly jump out of my skin. It’s my uncle, bursting in with his usual sharpness. “There you are,” he says to me, sounding annoyed. “I need this added to the files for the meeting.” He hands me another stack of paper, and I manage to hide the handkerchief in my hand. I don’t want him asking questions about it. I catch sight of my attractive rescuer’s face, and he looks like he’s about to burst out laughing. Probably at me. I flush red again.

“Sure.” I turn and add the stack to the copier’s queue. I take the opportunity to breathe, and maybe make it look like I just wasn’t blatantly flirting with someone at the firm.

“Andrew,” my uncle says, “What are you doing in here?”

“Just visiting the water cooler,” he replies. Andrew. His name is Andrew. Good to know, even though I now feel like an idiot for not asking. He asked my name.

“And I see you’ve met my niece.”

I give a tight-lipped smile. Andrew also smiles. “Yes, I did. She is lovely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in the meeting.”

Andrew gives me a final glance—that totally steals my breath away—and leaves. I go back to my stapling, desperately hoping that my uncle won’t see the residual embarrassment—or toner—hanging off me.

“Naomi.”

“Yes?”

“That’s Andrew Finch.”

In my head, everything clicks. My uncle has been going on and on about a senior partner named Finch whom he can’t stand. In Uncle Roger’s words, the partner is an upstart who’s angling to take over the firm and always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I always liked the sound of anyone who could ruffle my uncle’s feathers. Now I can see it’s not just that he’s an upstart, it’s that he’s young and handsome and already very successful at his job.

“You’re going to be seeing a lot of him,” my uncle goes on, “because he and I are working the Sterling murder case together, even if I don’t like it.”

I shuffle several more papers together and clear my throat. “Why put him on the case if you dislike him so much?”

“Keep your enemies close,” he says grimly. “He’s going to try to make a move for name partner, and maybe managing partner. I want him close by so I can see what he’s doing before he actually does it. And make no mistake, if he sees an opportunity to use you against me, he’ll try. So watch yourself, for my sake and yours.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course.”

He looks at me a moment, and I think he’s going to ask about what just happened with Andrew before he came in. But he doesn’t. I breathe out a sigh of relief as he turns to go.

“Bring those in as soon as they’re done

,” he says.

I snap back, “I will.” Even though he’s already gone and can’t hear my reply.

Miraculously the copier doesn’t break again. Seven ridiculously large packets of paper coming right up.

The meeting has already started when I finish, but just barely. For the record, I would have been perfectly on time without the paper-jam-and-handkerchief fiasco. Thankfully no one even looks at me when I come in. Actually, that’s not true. Andrew looks at me. He swivels brazenly toward me with a smile that makes butterflies magically appear in my stomach.

I place each packet in front of a partner, trying my best to be quiet and invisible. When I finally get to Andrew, he takes his packet directly from me and says, “Thank you, Naomi.”

My uncle stops, and looks at us, and I feel all the air get sucked out of the room at once. “Yes,” Uncle Roger says, “Thank you, Naomi. That will be all.”

I drop my eyes and nod as I hand my uncle his original files and make for the door. I look back just before I leave, and see that Andrew is still staring at me. He winks, and all the butterflies in my stomach drop dead as my stomach falls right down to my shoes.

I practically run back to my office, where I flop into the chair. It feels like I’ve already been here a year, and it’s only been half a day. ‘Believe me, I will too,’ Andrew said. Which means he’s going to think about me, or more specifically, how he’d get me clean.

Can’t really get cleaner than me, virgin that I am. Which is why it will never happen. Men like that never want women like me—inexperienced and shy. The minute they hear virgin they run for the door. That’s probably best in this case. Besides, my uncle would murder me, and it’s my first day. I’m new to the law world, but I’m pretty sure a paralegal screwing a senior partner is something that’s frowned on.

I’m going to think about it though. Think about him and all the non-existent possibilities. Think about what it would be like to be wanted by someone like that. Someone powerful and sexy and totally unashamed. Think about him thinking about me, and what that means.

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