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Gray told himself he wasn’t watching the clock.
But when the knock came at his door, he was prepared.
Hell, he should be prepared. He’d been up half the night trying to decide exactly how to play this moment.
“Come in,” he called, only after carefully schooling his face into a mask of cool indifference. No doubt his new “assistant” thought she could stroll in whenever she pleased because her sister was dating the boss.
Gray knew women like Sophie Dalton. Women whose middle names were “manipulation.” They manipulated the system, their careers. Men.
Especially men.
And Gray had no intention of being played. Certainly not by a troublesome ditz who dressed like a hooker in her spare time and went out of her way to stand out like a sore thumb in an otherwise impeccably mannered family.
He needed to put distance between them. Immediately.
But the woman standing at his doorway was not the too-sexy blonde he’d been waiting for.
It was Ms. Jennings, the company’s HR manager. He stifled a groan. Not that there was anything wrong with her. It was just employees in general. Not exactly his strong suit.
Ms. Jennings…Beth, if he remembered correctly…was not a particularly attractive woman. She didn’t try to be. He liked that about her. It kept everything simpler. Her ink-black hair was too dark against pale skin, and the choppy, chin-length cut did nothing to soften her broad features.
Like most men, Gray knew little about women’s fashion, but it was obvious that her army-green slacks and boxy blue blazer would never be featured in any fashion magazine.
But all interactions with Ms. Jennings so far had pointed to efficiency. And that was all he cared about.
Gray realized he’d been staring at her, and as a result her welcoming smile had faded slightly as she shuffled her feet nervously.
“Ms. Jennings, come in,” he said, realizing that they’d been working together for a few days now and he’d barely spoken to her. He racked his brain for idle chatter. The book he’d bought on being a relatable manager had said something about expressing interest in employees themselves, as well as in their work.
Which really was just another way of promoting small talk. His Achilles’ heel.
Gray desperately grasped for a topic that would say I’m interested rather than I’m prying.
Are you married? Any children?
No way. Too personal.
Any cats?
Too stereotyping.
Can you recommend a dentist?
Ugh. Then she’d think he’d been studying her teeth.
“How was traffic?” he asked finally. He immediately winced. Was this the best he could do? There were probably species of ferns that would make better company than him.
“Traffic was fine, thanks,” she said, her brow furrowing.
“For me too,” he said with a curt nod. Jesus, Gray.
Ms. Jennings’ face relaxed slightly at his awkward response. Clearly she’d realized he wasn’t intimidating so much as pathetic. He wasn’t sure which was worse.
“I made a fresh pot of coffee,” she said, approaching his desk and extending a cup toward him. “I took a guess. Black?”
He preferred a splash of cream, actually. And
he’d already gotten his coffee. But he surreptitiously passed his old cup aside and accepted the company mug with a curt thank-you.
