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CHAPTER FOUR
Olivia slipped herarms into her coat and pulled it over her shoulders as she exited the executive elevator, followed by her boss.
Why did just standing next to Fletcher Dufort feel sexual? It was utterly ridiculous, and yet it still did.
Sure, his six feet two inches towered over her, but he had a powerful and magnetic essence she’d never felt before.
It was in the little things.
When he sat next to her in meetings, she was constantly aware of his solid muscular thighs stretching the material of his pants, or his large hands as they moved when he spoke or lay on the table between them.
It was in the way his square jaw, sprinkled with dark growth, would clench when they were trying to solve a challenge or lips that smirked when he’d tease her.
Or his smoldering green eyes that watched her when he didn’t think she knew.
She knew all right. Her entire being was aware of every single move he made.
He was a difficult man to ignore, least of all because he was a large, powerful and rich man. But then again, so were Daniel and Hunter Dufort, and neither of them made her thighs clench.
Fletcher’s hand on her back halted her.
His touch burned.
“We need to wait here a moment.” He glanced at his phone while they stood by the glass floor-to-ceiling entrance. “Frederick is fighting traffic.”
Around them people went this way and that, employees nodding a greeting at the Dufort executive, while some murmuredhello sir.
His eyes dropped to hers and she tried to ignore the rich green globes she’d seen in her dreams. She cleared her throat, aware they were standing far too close for colleagues and yet neither of them moved.
“It’s warming up,” she suddenly blurted out. It totally wasn’t. It was still pretty chilly.
Fletcher’s lips curved then his eyes darted to his phone as it buzzed.
“Let’s go.” His hand landed in the small of her back again and he guided her outside.
She really wished he wouldn’t do that.
“Ms. Miller. Mr. Dufort,” Frederick said as he opened the door for them.
They slid into the back of the car, which was warm and entirely too intimate for the two of them to be alone. Olivia pulled off her coat and lay it on her lap. She turned to Fletcher and found him staring out the window, his jaw rigid.
She knew why.
He was beating himself up for touching her. For wanting her.
This is what he did over and over.
Even when a smile went too far between them, moments later, he’d shut down and become grouchy. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t just him, but he knew, and yet she could see he blamed himself.
She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter, that even without the Dufort policy in place, nothing could ever happen.
Perhaps she should?
This tension between them was getting worse. If she wanted to keep her job, Olivia knew she had to keep things professional.
