“Why don’t you continue?” I say.
All heads in the room swivel to me, but I don’t pay them any attention, my gaze firmly on Roxy.
She frowns, and looks at the partnersand senior managers around the table before her gaze lands on me again.
I give her a slight nod. No agenda. No prank. No dig.
She takes a sip of water, squares her shoulders, and continues.
That’s my girl.
Some people understand a glower. Some people, unfortunately, don’t speak my body language.
One of them is the receptionist at Merged, who has been looking at me like I’m the second coming of Jesus.
I turn my back to her, pulling out my phone to busy myself.
She breathes out what sounds like a porn moan, utterly inappropriate for the workplace.
A few weeks ago, I would see where those sexy looks would lead. I wouldn’t really care about office politics, awkward dances afterward, or HR warnings. It seems I left that behavior behind.
Stifling a groan, I check my watch. Roxy had better show up in the next two minutes. We will be late otherwise.
The presentation at Hearthstone Foods is important for Corm. I need a win here. For her and for me.
As I scan my emails on the screen, I sense her before I see her. The subtle lavender scent reaches me. To my horror, the corners of my mouth curl up. What the fuck?
Fighting this attraction is annoying.
She brushes past me to the elevator. “Ready?”
Putting my phone into my pocket, I follow… Who the hell is that? Roxy’s dreadlocks are tamed into a ponytail on her nape, and she is wearing a gray business suit.
A fitted jacket hugs her shoulders and trim waist, ending just above her ass, all round and sensual in a pencil skirt. She pairs it with sensible nude flats.
There is nothing wrong with the attire. It’s perfectly appropriate for the important presentation.
On Roxy, everything is wrong with that get-up.
I storm toward her. “What are you wearing?” I whisper-snap at her, mindful of the receptionist.
“Not this again.” Roxy rolls her eyes.
I grind my teeth, taking a deep breath in. An associate passes through, and I catch the receptionist’s eye.
Gripping Roxy’s elbow, I pull her away from the elevators.
“What are you doing?” she protests, but I don’t stop and push us into the small boardroom Merged uses as a waiting area for visitors.
I shut the door behind me. “I don’t like it.” If I grind my teeth harder, I might dislocate my jaw.
Roxy folds her arms across her chest. “I’m not asking.”
“This is not you. Go change.”
She blinks a few times. “Excuse me? You are not the boss of me,” she snorts, pushing past me to leave.
I seize her arm again. Something forbidden zaps through us. We still.
