Not why is my secretary sitting alone in the executive suite before sunrise like she has a secret corporate heist planned?
Just,you’re here.
“Yes.” I swallow. “I work here.”
His brows draw together.
Why did I say that?
Of all the things. All the available words in the English language.I work here.
He grunts.
That one is definitely displeased.
His gaze shifts to the clock, then back to me. “This early?”
“This is when I usually arrive.”
The moment I say it, something changes in his face.
Not much. Jordan Richmond does not do much with his face. His face is a locked vault guarded by wolves. But his eyes sharpen.
He did not know.
Which means he does not know everything.
Tiny victory. Very tiny.
He looks at yesterday’s coffee again. Then at me. “Why?”
Because I need forty-five minutes to become a woman who can survive your forearms.
I tuck my hands under the edge of my desk before they can start fidgeting. “I like the quiet.”
Another grunt.
This one might be acceptance. Or judgment. Or indigestion.
Then his gaze drops.
For one terrible second, I think he is looking at my dress.
Then I realize he has caught me looking at his clothes.
Specifically, the gray sweatpants.
My soul exits my body through my left ear.
His eyes narrow.
I look at his shoulder instead.
Which is not better.
His shoulder is also a problem.
“You’re staring.”
