“And I’ve already nearly said something I shouldn’t. Done something I shouldn’t.”
His smirk fades. Slightly.
“She’s not even doing anything. That’s the thing.” I shake my head. “She’s just... here. In that bloody dress. Being competent and polite and walking into rooms like she belongs in them. And it’s driving me mad.”
Jasper watches me for a second, then says, “Right. So just to be clear — we’re not talking about a woman who came in flirting, or batting her lashes, or sitting on the desk in a miniskirt.”
“No.”
“We’re talking about a woman who offered you a coffee and blushed a bit.”
“Yes.”
He leans back, slow and thoughtful. “So the problem is... you.”
I exhale, sharp. “Fuck off.”
He grins. “You fancy her.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s always that simple.”
I rub a hand over my face. “I don’t know what it is. She’s not the type I usually go for. She’s older, certainly curvier, and she doesn’t try to impress me, and she’s not playing the game. But she’s in my head.”
“Maybe because she’s not playing the game.”
“Maybe,” I mutter. “Or maybe I’ve just completely lost the plot. Either way, this can’t happen.”
Jasper folds his arms. “You going to tell her that before or after you start imagining her naked every time she brings you a cuppa?”
I give him my best glare. He answers with a grin like he’s won something.
“Look,” he says, “you’ve been alone a long time. And this place? It’s quiet. Quieter than you’re used to. And now you’ve got this woman walking in every day with curves that clearly are effecting that little brain between your legs. Of course you’re rattled.”
“I’m not rattled.”
“You’rerattled.”
I take a slow sip of coffee and stare at the desk.
“She’s going to be in that office. Every day. Across the hall. In my house.”
“Yup.”
I shake my head again. “This is going to be a fucking disaster.”
Chapter 8
Stella
Istare at thekettle, willing the water to boil slower, just so I can stand here a few more seconds and collect myself.
His voice. That closeness. The way he leaned in and saidanythinglike it meant more than simple coffee filters. Like it meantme.
I should be furious. Or at the very least uncomfortable. But instead, I’m flushed from the chest up and can’t shake the memory of him behind me. The warmth of his body pressed so close, the woodsy, expensive scent that still clings. And there’d been more. The hard press of his cock against me. At least I think it was his erection. Maybe I imagined it. Why would a man like him react like that to me? Still, the thought keeps coming back, making my pulse race all over again.
He said it low, like a growl. Like something that slipped out before he could stop it.
