I blush, looking everywhere but at them. If my parents are suspicious of Mitch and I, they don’t say.
* * *
It's the first day of work, and I am majorly freaking out. Even though I've gone shopping yesterday, I still feel like I haven't exactly managed a good step up. I wake up quite early to prepare, ensuring that I roll my hair so that the long auburn length stumbles across my shoulders in luxurious curls.
The beige-colored skirt I've purchased yesterday, which pretty much made a dent in my savings, hugs my thighs, complimenting my hips in a manner that draws attention to my long legs and stilettos.
My shirt is a simple black button-down which contrasts with my skin tone. The whole ensemble looks pretty much great if I do say so myself. I step out to find Mitch waiting on the driveway, leaning casually against the passenger door of his car. His hair is brushed back so that his angular features become more prominent, and the patterned button-down under a tasteful suit jack causes me to gulp hard.
If I had not known what today was, I would assume Mitch was going to walk the runway. I try to ignore the way my body suddenly lights up as it nears his, but when his eyes run over my entire form, I shiver.
“You clean up nice, Miss Potter,” he croaks in a voice that is several octaves lower.
Suppressing another shiver, I say, “You clean up nicely,too, Mr. Bridges.”
“Shall we?” He smirks, stepping away from the car door to pull it open for me.
My body brushes against his and I gasp softly, trying not to clutch at my heart that threatens to thud out of my chest.
Mitch smells good; his fragrance fills the air. I struggle to regain my composure as Mitch turns to the driver's seat and gets behind the wheel, but my traitorous heart just continues to hammer away, because the car is now suddenly filled with Mitch's delicious scent. I struggle to get my now funny breathing under control, looking for something, anything, with which to fill the car's silence with.
On the other hand, Mitch appears to not be affected by my presence at all. He's utterly focused on the road, lines appearing on his forehead from concentration.
Mitch fills the silence with music that screams about love lost, which makes me remember Smith. Only, this time, my heart does not clench from pain.
CHAPTER9
BETH & MITCHELL
Mitch's office is in a simple building in the center of town. We take an elevator up to the floor, and I am impressed at the setup. There's nothing too entirely uppity about it, which is what I had feared. The tables are all designed to face each other, which is very appropriate, seeing as we are going to be rubbing heads together. The interior is designed with the sort of work we'd be doing in mind.
Mitch, in this setting, stands a little taller, and his eyes hold no teasing smile as he introduces me to the staff and the ones he has assigned to my unit. There's a man, younger-looking, that Mitch introduces as Mateo Harris, and a woman, not older than thirty, who gives me a beaming smile. I can tell right away that we will get along seamlessly.
“It's nice to meet you, Mr. Harris,” I say, slipping my hand into his in a firm handshake.
“Oh please, I don't think the formal name will be necessary, Bethany, seeing as we will be working very closely together,” he says with a grin, his eyes making a fast sweep over my body. I hold in a grimace at the obvious flirting, almost laughing when Mitch scowls.
“Since we happen to be dropping formalities, I prefer to be called Beth. Bethany makes me sound British.”
“Mateo,” Harris grins. “Then Beth it is.”
“Okay, now that that is over, let’s all just have a little tour of the place, and acquaint ourselves with it, shall we?” Mitch says.
When I make to move with the rest of the staff, Mitch holds me back with a light grip on my elbow.
“Stay back,” he whispers, giving Mateo a pointed stare when he turns to search for me with his eyes.
Boy, oh boy... Is Mitch jealous?
Understanding how inappropriate it will be to ask him that, I wait patiently for him to say what he needs to.
“You and I are going to take a different tour,” he says, guiding me with his hand on my elbow and ignoring my little outburst.
“Here’s your office.”
I’m stunned speechless. I want to scream when I find a beautiful mahogany desk ready with a state of the art laptop on it. But what really gets to me is the majestic floor-to-ceiling mahogany wall filled with books, and the comfortable-looking armchair and side table. I already know I’ll be spending all my free time in that nook, so I focus on my laptop for now.
“Is that solely for office use?” I question, my fingers itching to touch it.