Page 52 of His Temporary Assistant

“The best way to get rid of temptation is to give into it, Preston.”

One sentence should not have held my dick in a vise, but that was the power of Ryan G. Moon.

The vixen April had set upon me for reasons unknown.

To rub salt in the wound, I received a postcard from my assistant—the real one. The one who didn’t make me sit like a fourteen-year-old boy trying to hide my half-mast.

Anyway, it was digital taunting, of course, because no mail moved that fast. But the email contained several beachy shots of palm fronds waving in the breeze and rolling turquoise waves and April in a bikini frolicking in the surf.

I envied her frolic.

Having the best time. Hope all is well. See you soon (not too soon!)

I sent a pithy reply and clicked the email closed. Couldn’t be soon enough, since it was already too late.

Or it would have been if I wasn’t exceptional at blocking my own impulses. My skill at ignoring my own desires was the only reason I was still a divorce lawyer.

Otherwise, I’d be doing some other specialty. Like…family law, maybe, or something that did some good. Making sure kids were protected seemed so much more worthwhile than ensuring Betty Studebaker got all the good china and the cabin in Tahoe.

But that wasn’t the road in front of me right now. All I wanted to do was survive this week without fucking Ryan on my desk—or her desk, that actually belonged to April—so that I could still look at myself in the mirror.

It wasn’t as if she was my permanent assistant. She was just a temp. But with my father’s exploits still fresh, I couldn’t let that breach happen. If I didn’t follow my own standards, how could I criticize his?

Short answer: I couldn’t.

Since I had no better options at the moment, I locked myself in my office. I didn’t inquire about the digital indexing Ryan had mentioned or concern myself with my missing coffee. It would come when it came.

In the meantime, I finished my last cup of my beloved caramel-coconut. Then I resorted to drinking soda by the gallon while wondering when I’d turned to compulsive behaviors to avoid my assistant.

Not just her. I was also avoiding my father. There were hard conversations that were needed to be had, and I wasn’t ready. Once I pulled that trigger, the next step would need to be taken.

Telling my mother what I’d seen.

The front blinds were pulled as tight as possible. Not even a shaft of light could escape, just in case Ryan wanted to peek in. Or in case my brother wanted to taunt me by flirting with her as if I was a lion behind the glass. Consigned to always look but not touch.

Except I had touched her, and she’d touched me.

It hadn’t been nearly enough.

I worked for as long as I could, forcing myself again and again to refocus on the paperwork in front of me. I left my computer on standby. That way I couldn’t hear the email dinging. As for the phone, it couldn’t interrupt you when it was disconnected.

Who knew?

After awhile, I needed a break, so I pulled out the hunter green folder I’d received last night from Kitten Around. I’d left after promising to review the materials and to offer my support if it was a good fit. Since my part usually just required money, I was fairly certain it would be.

I had to admit the idea was intriguing. They’d come up with the idea to do a kind of speed dating event—except matching kittens and critical care cats with pet parents. They’d included the forms participants would fill out to be part of the program, and damn if it didn’t look like one from a dating app.

Not that I knew what those looked like. Because of course I’d never considered turning to one of those sites after the long, lonely nights got to be too much.

All right, so maybe I had once a few years ago. I hadn’t gone through with it, because—

I didn’t know why.

Liar.

Deep down, I’d harbored a belief much like Ryan’s. If it was meant to happen, it would, and I wouldn’t need to pay for the privilege.

Guess I was more of a sap than I realized.

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