“I mean for...for offering to help you find girls. And for making you help with Jorge.” My eyes drop to the cleavage bubbling up just behind that sheer lace.
Damn you, focus on her face, a voice sneers in the back of my mind. Her face, you unhinged piranha.
“No problem,” she says softly. “Really, boss. It’s okay.”
I burst out laughing. It’s either that or let the tension murder me on the spot.
“It’s not okay, Halle—Miss Halle,” I correct sharply. “How can I ever make it up to you?”
She smiles, showing off a neat row of pearly teeth. Why does that smile feel so hollow?
“That won’t be necessary. I’m just happy to work here and meet your expectations. Thanks for the apology, although, again, it totally wasn’t necessary.”
She’s letting me off too easy.
She starts to turn, but I stumble forward again, strangling my tongue to call after her.
“It was very necessary,” I grind out.
She pauses midstep, turns, and laughs. “Honestly? I was mostly freaked out that I could be mistaken for a man, but maybe it’s a good thing. You put me in my place. At least I know where I stand in the dating department, right?”
Aw, hell. I think if she’d pulled out a magnum and shot me in the chest, it would’ve been easier than hearing those words. That agony I death-marched her through, disguised as a joke.
“Fuck right,” I whisper, stepping closer. “This is all my fault. I never pay attention to anything but—”
“Yourself? I noticed. It’s okay. You’re a busy man, and an important one. I’m just a driver.”
For a split second, I’m speechless. Especially when her eyes shimmer as they fall, and I’m the reason why.
“You say that like I’m some kind of merciless snob. I assure you, I’m not.”
“It’s not my place to judge you, and it doesn’t really matter. I’m your driver. You’re my boss. Let’s keep it that way, m’kay? Thanks for the apology. I have to go babysit now.” She skitters away, pushes open the glass door, and moves into the hall like she’s being chased by a hungry tiger.
I follow her.
She stops at a desk being manned by Susan, the HR lady. “Can I get my coat, please?”
“Of course. Remind me of your last name, please?”
“Halle. H-a-l-l-e.”
“How do I make this right?” I ask, annoyed that I’ve been left holding the bag.
Susan turns to the racks of coats behind her and pulls out a familiar bulky jacket that doesn’t match Reese’s dress at all. She hands it to her. “Here you go.”
Reese glances at me, then looks back at Susan and smiles sweetly. “Susan, can I ask you something? It’s about HR policy.”
“Of course.”
“If a co-worker follows you around, staring at your cleavage, can you file a report even if he’s your boss? And a partner at this firm?”
“Absolutely. Especially if he’s a partner. That isn’t appropriate in any situation,” Susan whips out, folding her arms and glaring.
Damn, I only stared a little.
Reese turns so we’re face-to-face, then she grins at me and winks. “See you later, boss.”
Fucking devil. She’s as quick as she is deadly. It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?
I’m still standing there like a stunned buffalo when Susan laughs. My eyes whip to her.
“Mr. Brandt, is everything okay?” she asks.
I lie by nodding.
She looks at Reese. “Do I need to get a certain grandmother involved?”
Reese giggles. “I don’t think so. I handled it just fine.”
She whirls and heads off, her hips swishing in that mesmerizing way I need to stop noticing for the thousandth time. My eyes aren’t listening to my brain. They watch her until the tight ass hugged by black silk is no longer visible.
“You’re not doing anything that’ll get you into trouble?” Susan asks with a knowing smirk.
Insufferable.
Welcome to the curse of running a company where everyone over fifty has known you since childhood. You’re not really running anything with these older employees, and you have about a dozen babysitters, making sure you don’t get into 'trouble.'
“Nah,” I say with a disarming wink before making my way back to the party.
Hell yes, I’m irritated, but I don’t let the scratch marks show from that black cat digging her claws in.
I nod at people as I pass—my usual modus operandi—always calm. In control. Focused.
That’s how the life of the party rolls.
I find our table and take my place between Ward and Grandma.
“If you’re going to gawk at an employee, could you make it less obvious?” my brother says.
I shrug. “What’re you talking about? I just apologized my ass off and asked how to make it right.”
“Uh-huh,” Ward says, staring me down. “Hard to apologize when you looked like you were ready to undress her, right here in the middle of the room.”
Damn him.
She’s hot enough to risk a scandal, but I know where to draw the line.