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Chapter1
Melanie
“Jenson?”
There’s a mostly naked man in front of me, but instead of taking in every cut of those perfect abs or curve of his pecs, I’m staring at the little tattoo on his hip.
What the hell?
The towel drying his hair—not the one around his waist, unfortunately—comes down and I’m standing face-to-face with my former high school boyfriend.
His gray-blue eyes are emotionless as they take me in. Shouldn’t he be at least slightly curious about what I’m doing in the men’s locker room of Dupont Analytics?
What company devotes an entire floor to an employee gym? How was I supposed to know I’d get lost in it while trying to find my new office?
“Melanie.”
Jenson Sharpe says my name easily, as if it hasn’t been over a decade since we’ve seen one another. He’s definitely changed from the eighteen-year-old I used to get wrapped up in. His once too sharp jaw is now just right, square and proportionate. There’s that same bow to his lip and he’s still just over six feet tall. When we were younger, he was gangly.
Not anymore.
He’s definitely grown into…everything.
“If you’re done staring,” he says flatly, tossing the towel in his hand away. The other is still wrapped precariously around his hips, just under that elegant tattoo he got on his eighteenth birthday. A week before I dumped him.
My eyes linger on the shell, beautifully shaded and realistic, but broken into the Fibonacci sequence. The tattoo of a true math nerd.
I rip my gaze away. “Sorry.”
“What are you doing here, Melanie?” Jenson’s tone is still cool and calm. Despite my heart thundering and my brain telling me to run, I look at him and feel…safe.
The same way I felt all those years ago.
Before I can explain, two men breeze by. They look very awake for 6:30 a.m. and wear amused and curious expressions.
“Mr. Sharpe.”
“Dean. You’ll have those financial reports on my desk by eight?”
A submissive nod. I look at Jenson with narrowed eyes as the pair exit the gym.Financial reports.
There’s only one reason I’d run into Jenson Sharpe in a place like Dupont Analytics; one reason why he’d be getting financial reports from men who clearly defer to him.
“What do you do here?”
His eyes run down my body and it sends heat through me, as if he’s caressed me with his hands. Memories of nights spent in his beat-up Honda flash through my mind. His fingers playing my body sinfully, teasing and taunting.
“I’m the CEO. I should be asking whatyou’redoing here.”
The towel around his waist loosens just slightly. Mortified—and tempted—my eyes snap back to his face. “It’s my first day of work.”
“And you just happened to wander into the men’s locker room. Before business hours.”
My face heats. It looks bad, but is that a glimmer I see in his eye? A hint of humor? Does he still remember the fussy girl I used to be, uptight about not only arriving somewhere on time, but needing to be early?
“I…wanted to get settled in before everyone else got here.”
“Stay right here.”
