His eyes are blazing in a way that has my body screaming to stay. But my body is not the boss here. As gracefully as I can muster, I get up and once again press my back against the door, blindly searching for the door handle.
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here.”
He arches his brow in confusion, then leans back against the large mahogany desk that’s directly in the middle of the room. “It’s fine. I wasn’t doing anything, anyway.”
My hand finds the door handle, but then something happens. I don’t open the door. And I don’t leave his office. Instead, I push off the cool wood behind me and take a step forward, regarding his sunken shoulders and tired face hiding beneath the powerful-looking suit.
“There’s a party out there.”
“Yes, there is.”
“And you’re here.”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Why?”
“Why are you here?” he asks instead of answering.
“A dick mix-up,” I reply, my lips lifting into a half smile.
His head cocks to the side, intrigue painted on his face as he watches me take in his space.
“Nice office,” I mutter, eyeing the huge brown leather sofa and the coffee table in the corner of the room. It makes for a nice, cozy meeting space, very different than the vibe of the rest of the space... It’s clean and sparse, with no personal touches, probably just like a corporate office should look. I wouldn’t know, having never worked in one. My eyes travel past the gorgeous man and take in downtown Bourbon, easily appreciated through the floor-to-ceiling windows taking up the entirety of one wall. The view alone is enough to take your breath away. There’s no need for expensive furniture. It almost makes up for the sterile feel of the place.
Does this guy practice minimalism? Like, all you need is a desk, laptop and shelves filled with folders? He’d have a heart attack in my apartment.
“A dick mix-up?”
“Funny story, actually,” I take a step towards a lone plant in the corner and finger the leaves. Plastic.
“I love funny stories,” he replies, his eyes following my every movement.
“And you’re hiding from the party, so you have time?” I tease.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Something like that.”
“Not a party person?”
“Not quite.” He loosens his tie, sending my mind straight to the gutter. Suddenly, I am glad for the mix-up. Having the attention of this uber-hot male specimen is doing tons for my ego. A curvy girl and a ripped businessman? Sign me up!
“Neither am I,” I sigh, walking over to the sofa and plopping down, “I’m more of a couch potat—Oh my God! Is this thing made of angel’s tears or something?” I exclaim, wiggling my butt into what must be the comfiest thing said butt has ever sat on. “I thought office furniture was supposed to be disgustingly uncomfortable…”
This time the corner of his mouth moves up into a half smile! “I spend too much time on it.”
“Ah. Long days at the office, right? Easier to go to sleep than to go home?” I say, while inside, I’m having visions of him lounging around on this sofa in nothing but grey sweatpants and a prominent hard-on.Bad Tasha! Bad!
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he just watches me intently. The way he looks at me makes me wonder if my butt is where he usually puts his face, which does nothing to help my vivid imagination.
Biting down on my lip, I rub my sweaty palms against my dress, trying not to think of his face and my butt in the same instance. “I get it. I once fell asleep on the floor of my shop, and let me just tell you, I had a knot in my neck for a whole week straight. I’d kill to have a sofa like this in my small office.”
“Shop?”
“Bakery,” I explain, glad to be back in safe territory.
He lifts an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to the box next to me, and, God save me, the man licks his lips. Rest assured, the butt-on-face scenario is firmly back at the forefront of my mind.
ChapterTwo