AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She wouldn’t have believed it if it hadn't been happening to her right then, but she, a proud Ice-Maiden, had become flustered, her porcupine shield melting under his gaze.
But soon, flames burst from her cheeks and spiked through her whole body. The raw, embarrassing truth hit her like a speeding truck on ice.
Crap.
How much of their conversation had he overheard? She searched her brain, trying to remember what else she and Marcy had spoken about, but the sole topic of discussion had been her freaking nether region.
Chapter Two
Kensley cringed so hard on the inside that she thought her skin would crack. What kind of dumb luck was this new crap she had to put up with, where a complete stranger, actually a perfect specimen of a male, had undoubtedly overheard enough of a conversation about her too—what had Marcy called it?
Oh, right, her malnourished vagina?
Oh god.
To make matters worse, because they weren’t already, she unconsciously clasped her hands together in front of her like a first-class nut trying to hide her privates. What the actual heck was wrong with her? She was now drawing more attention to the area she didn’t want any attention on.
To undo the staggeringly stupid defense she had produced, she untangled her hands as if they had electrocuted each other. Hot blood continued to pool in her cheeks.
She had no idea what to do with the situation, herself, or her vagina. So instead, she placed her hands on her hips like a schoolteacher, getting ready to scold the class for disorderly behavior. She was in the class. It was her behavior that had been disorderly.
The man had completely displaced her, and she wasn't used to such large-scale shifts outside her comfort zone.
A gasp, followed by unintelligible squeaks beside her, compelled her to turn her head toward Marcy, whose fingers were now biting painfully into Kensley's arm while her other hand fiddled with the buttons on her shirt.
The unknown man had a severe speechless effect on her friend, and Marcy never ran out of words and her flirt game was always on target.
Okay, enough of that.
She needed to stop all this nonsense. She forced herself to take control of the situation, tilted her head a fraction, and pursed her lips together. There would be no duck-pouts for her today... or ever.
He was probably their new boss’s assistant or something and he needed directions to the boardroom.
She cleared her throat, then asked, “Can I help you, Mr.…?”
“Hunter. Hunter McLeod. But Mr. McLeod to you two,” a tall, platinum-blond, expertly groomed woman said, appearing out of nowhere. Oof. Sandra Hitchcock, the thorn in their asses.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to meet you, Sir,” Sandra continued, batting her eyes at the man. “It’s such a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Again, so sorry. I’m Sandra Hitchcock, Mr. Callahan’s personal assistant.”
She shook his hand, stars now falling from her eyes, but at every opportunity she got, she made sure to glare at Kensley and Marcy with her eyes as weapons ready to scorch them down to ashes as if they weren’t supposed to be where they were right at that minute. That was signature-Sandra Hitchcock. She couldn’t stand either of them, but Kensley more so.
Wait. Did she say… McLeod? Hunter McLeod?
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
But shouldn't he be much older? They had expected a sexagenarian, at least, since there was nothing about the elusive owner they could find online.
Kensley rarely swore, but this one deserved a gosh-frigging medley of neon thunderfuckeries in all shapes and sizes.
She turned to Sandra, with her honed body of a young gymnast, which made aging her so hard to do, and hoped the woman had mistaken the man for someone else.
Sandra instead let out an exasperated sigh before turning her gaze on them. “This is Marcy Jensen, High Cloud’s events coordinator.” Marcy couldn’t help a giggle slipping out of her mouth as he offered her his hand, which she shyly took.
Good god.
“And this is our little junior public relations officer, Kensley Reid,” Sandra said with a sneer. Kensley had no idea what she had done to the woman to warrant such disdain from her. “She does all the menial tasks like, spell check for what we send out to the press and such. She reports to Heralda Dawson, who is currently on maternity leave and will be back next week.”
First of all, Heralda was—
