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“Can’t say I’ve ever played,” he replies, opening his driver side door.
“Yeah, well I guess you just play different games.”
His eyes flash in my direction, so I quickly duck into my seat to avoid that haunting gaze. When he climbs in next to me, I swear I catch a hint of a smile painted on his face before it vanishes.
* * *
The ride is silent, and I’m a little surprised to find out the location of this new building is actually downtown. It’s not really a new building at all but an old brick warehouse that looks to be under renovation. The windows and doors are covered with brown paper and there are scaffoldings and trucks parked around the exterior. Just above the door is the company logo, sleek in black iron, a circle with the letters, SPC.
Emerson parks the car on the opposite side of the street, away from the dirt and debris of the construction site. As we climb out of the car, I try to pull my skirt down a couple inches and cross my arms over my chest to hide the bra underneath.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
As soon as we shut the doors of the car, a tall blond man in dusty jeans and a tight flannel shirt exits the building and marches in our direction. He has a hard hat on his head and two in his hand. There’s a mildly disgruntled look on his face as he approaches us, but when he lifts his head and locks eyes with me, his expression suddenly changes. A smile stretches across his stubbled cheeks as his blue eyes skate up and down my body. When he turns his head, I spot a blond ponytail hanging under his hat, and when I get closer, I find myself staring at those chiseled cheekbones and full, pink lips. He’s freaking gorgeous.
“Well, hello there,” he chimes with his disarming gaze on me.
Emerson clears his throat, putting the attention back on him. “Drake, this is my new secretary, Charlotte Underwood. Charlotte, this is our general contractor, Drake Nielsen.”
“A newsecretary,” Drake says with a sexy, low-tone drawl as he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. There’s something strange about the way he says secretary, but I’m too hypnotized by his attention to pick out what it is.
“Drake,” Emerson snaps as if he’s scolding the man. Drake doesn’t even flinch, but he does give me a subtle wink. I finally realize, because my brain is moving a little slow with this Greek god staring at me like we’re about to fuck, that Drake thinks I am one of Emerson’sspecialsecretaries.
And you know what? I don’t hate it.
I almost don’t want Emerson to correct him, but of course, he does.
“She’s myactualsecretary, Drake. Knock it off.”
There’s a hint of disappointment on the contractor’s face as he lets my hand go. There must be some unwritten rule that people whoknow ofandpartake inthe kinky stuff can be kinky and flirtatious around each other. But to the rest of us, they have to modify their behavior. Like we’re the muggles and they’re the wizards.
And right now, I hate being a muggle.
“That’s me,” I reply. “A boring secretary.” I twist my lips into a knot and do my best to look downhearted.
Drake’s rough hand runs along the length of my forearm like he’s trying to enchant me. “We’ll have to see about changing that.”
Suddenly, a softer hand latches around my waist and I’m tugged abruptly away from the contractor. “That’s enough. We have work to do.”
There’s laughter from Drake as he follows behind us. “Don’t forget your hats.”
With a scowl on his face, Emerson grabs them out of the man’s hands, keeping his body between mine and Drake’s. The contractor doesn’t follow us inside though. Instead, he begins barking orders at a team of workers on the scaffolding outside.
Emerson mutters in my ear, keeping my body close to his, “Stay away from him. He has no boundaries.”
“What’s his kink?” I ask, and Emerson’s head snaps in my direction.
With his arm still around my waist, he stops me before we reach the door. “You can’t just go around asking people what their kinks are.”
“But you said—”
He’s so close now, hovering over me like a shadow. “I know what I said. I just don’t want you…” His voice trails off.
“You don’t want me what?”
“You’re just my secretary, all right? And you’re my son’s ex, remember? I don’t want you getting involved in this stuff. So don’t ask people their kinks and don’t flirt with the men. Or women,” he adds as an afterthought.
I feel my jaw clench and my shoulders tighten as I glare up at him. “You know I’m twenty-one, right? And remember that big speech you gave about this stuff being so…normal?”
