by Nikki Chase
It’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m struggling to control my hands from reaching up and feeling the heat in her face. But that would be the opposite of professional.
I should say something, right? But it’s so fun watching her go on like this. I suppress the smile that wants to spread across my face.
Nina takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a few moments, and then opens them again. “Let’s start again; shall we? Hi, Brock. Nice to see you again after all this time!”
With a bemused smile, I shake her proffered hand. “Hi, Nina. If you’ll come this way, we can get this interview underway.”
She returns my smile, her eyes so bright they almost seem like they’re glowing. I swear my heart pauses for a split second. It feels like she’s peering straight into my soul.
Unable to take any more of that intensely beautiful gaze, I turn away from her, leading the way toward the elevators as she follows quietly along.
It doesn’t look like Nina has realized I was the guy she spilled coffee on, but at this point, I’m not even mad about it anymore.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Nina says in the elevator as it climbs all the way to the top of the tall skyscraper. “But I guess we can all change quite a lot over the course of a few years, huh?”
You can say that again.
“We sure can,” I say, casting a glance at her. “It took me a few moments to recognize you, too. I still remember the days when you were just an awkward kid, tagging along while I was hanging out with Dean.”
“Oh my God,” she groans. “Don’t. I’ve been cringing about that internally all morning. I used to follow you two around like a little, lost puppy. Remember that time when you two were drinking beer, and I snuck one?”
I laugh at the memory. “How could I forget? We came up to your bedroom and found you in a heap on the floor, barely talking sense. After one beer!”
She blushes again, shyly looking down. As she does, the way her blouse moves gives me a glimpse of a lacy black bra and a hint of the creamy white skin of her breasts. At the stirring in my pants, I take a breath and avert my eyes.
Jesus, Brock, get ahold of yourself. A glimpse of skin, and you’re getting a hard-on? Over your friend’s little sister? What are you, fourteen? Pull it together. Fuck.
Luckily, Nina’s too preoccupied with being embarrassed to notice the direction of my gaze.
I stare at the panel with the floor number the rest of the ride like I’m trying not to look directly at the sun. Our floor finally arrives, and we step out of the elevator.
“My office is just up here,” I say. “Follow me, and we can finally get this interview done and dusted.”
A few moments later, we’re sitting on opposite sides of my desk. Nina’s got a little notepad and pen in front of her and suddenly looks all business. I’m honestly quite impressed.
“First off, I want to apologize for being late. I was on my way over here, but someone happened to spill coffee on me out on the street. I had to buy a new shirt.” I cock her a crooked grin. “It’s okay, though. The perpetrator had an important interview to rush to.”
Her lips part in surprise. “Oh my God. Was that you?”
I nod, enjoying her reaction.
“You’re not just teasing me?” she narrows her eyes at me, leaning forward in her chair to examine me more closely with those bewitching eyes.
I shake my head. “Nope, really me. But hey, we’re here now, right? And that’s what matters.”
I hadn’t planned on mentioning it, but I couldn’t resist. And now she’s blushing again, except this time, it’s spread to her upper chest too.
She’s dangerously adorable. Leave it to me to torment myself with this girl that I know I can never have.
“Look, Brock, after everything that’s happened today, I’ll understand if you don’t want to take me on,” she says, her words tumbling out of her mouth. “I’m a walking disaster. I know that.”
“Stop, please,” I say, holding up a hand with what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I don’t want to hear any of that nonsense. We all have bad days, and hey, at least today will be memorable. A new shirt and a near-fight, all before lunch? Most days I’ve barely woken up properly by now.”
She breathes a sigh of relief.
“And Nina, if that creep ex of yours comes sniffing by again, let me know, okay? He seems like a really nasty piece of work, and no woman should have to deal with that. Tell me if he causes you any more trouble, and I’ll get it dealt with. Promise me.”
She hesitates for a few moments.
“I want to make this a comfortable work environment for you,” I add.
“Deal,” she eventually says, “but you have to promise not to say anything to Dean. He already has enough on his plate, and I don’t want to add to his worries. Pete’s a jerk, but he’s all bark, no bite. You probably scared him enough already.”
“Okay,” I say reluctantly. “But don’t keep this to yourself. It could be dangerous.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She nods. “Brock, is there anything I can do to repay you for that shirt I ruined? It must’ve been terribly expensive.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, waving a dismissive hand.
“Really?”
“Yeah, seriously. Let’s move on,” I say. “I’m afraid this interview is going to have to be quite short. I’ve got a big meeting later on, and I need all the time I can get to prepare for it. So, you’re applying to be my assistant. I’m not exactly sure what the position will entail yet, but it’ll probably just be random tasks and whatever admin stuff I don’t have time for. You think you can handle that?”
“Sure can,” she nods. “You can rely on me. I’m actually not as much of a disaster as I might appear after the events of this morning. I’m organized, I’m good on the phone, and I’m used to dealing with assholes.”
I chuckle at that last one. “Those are all useful skills.”
She catches herself, looking panicked. “Not that I’m saying you’re an asshole. But, you know; the stereotype of big business guys and stuff, they can be assholes. So . . . I’m good at dealing with them. Not you. But I’ll be good at dealing with you too.”
“That’s good.”
“My God.” Nina leans back and pinches her temples. “I really am trying my best to not get this job, aren’t I?”
I’m laughing now, and it feels good. I wasn’t joking when I told her my work days tend to lean on the boring side. Looks like that’s about to change, though.
“No, you’re actually completely right,” I say. “Plenty of suits are complete assholes, and I hate dealing with them. So if you can do that for me, I’ll actually be really grateful.”
Her face lights up in a stunning smile, and damn, there goes my cock again.
She’s going to be dangerous. Going to have to watch myself with her. She’s fucking gorgeous.
“Great,” she says, giving me a mischievous grin. “I’ll be your premier asshole handler. Could I have that title on my door do you think?”
We both burst out laughing, and I know I’ve made the right choice in taking Nina on. If nothing else, at least my days will be more interesting.
“So, when can I start?” she asks. “Is there anything you need me to do today? I want to make up for the time you lost having to buy a new shirt and stuff. If you’ve got that big meeting later. You can probably use all the time you can get, right?”
I glance at the stack of accounts that need filing. “Well, there are these. I’ve been putting these damn things off for a month.”
She leans over the desk, unwittingly giving me another glimpse of her cleavage as she grabs the stack of papers.
“Accounts? Where do they need to go?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
I turn my monitor slightly to show her the software we use, and she moves her chair around to sit next to me. Despite my best efforts, it’s a struggle to stay focused when she smells
so good.
“I can do this,” she says, brushing against me as she reaches for the mouse. She seems familiar with the software already. “Go and prepare for your meeting. I’ll have this all done by the time you’re finished.”
I smile, glad to be rid of the damn things. Having a PA is going to be awesome.
As I cross the room and open the door to leave, a thought strikes me. “Hey, you really want to repay me for that shirt?”
Nina glances up from the computer. “Of course. You can take it out of my paycheck, but maybe not all of it from one paycheck. Maybe we can do it in installments, or—”
“Nina, I’m not going to dock your pay,” I cut her off, chuckling. She really is cute when she gets all frantic.
“Oh.” A relieved gust of air escapes her mouth.
“Can you keep Saturday night free, though?”
“Sure, I guess. What for?” she asks, a quizzical expression on her face.
“Well, that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Sometimes, I’m going to need you to accompany me outside of traditional office hours. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
She frowns, uncertainty flitting across her face. “No, I don’t think so. But . . . it’s not a date, is it? I’m not that kind of girl, Brock.”
I can’t tell if she’s serious or not.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. Promise. Although . . . you may find yourself doing things you don’t usually do . . .”
“Well, aren’t you a regular man of mystery?” she teases with a little smile. “Okay, Saturday night is now blocked out on my calendar. The hot date I had planned with a tub of ice-cream and the TV is just going to have to wait until another time.”
She returns her attention to the paperwork, and I turn and leave the office. I know I should be hyper-focused on this meeting, but I just can’t stop thinking about her . . .
Nina
The week passes quickly as I get the hang of the new job.
Brock is busy all the time with meetings and travel and who-knows-what, so he mostly leaves me to it although he checks in from time to time.
I’ve tried to press him a few times on exactly what is going to happen on Saturday night, but he just smiles that infuriatingly smug smile that’s starting to feel familiar by now and tells me to wait and see.
“I don’t like surprises,” I tell him. “Can’t you give me a clue? I want to make sure I’m dressed appropriately, at least. Is it a social thing? A work thing? Where is it going to be? A restaurant? A bar? A conference? You’ve got to give me something to go on!”
“I’ve got everything handled,” is all he says. “You just need to bring yourself, and everything else will be taken care of.”
No matter how much I press him and cajole him, he won’t budge.
I’d never tell him this . . . but to be honest, it’s a little thrilling. Even though I told him that I don’t like surprises, I actually kind of do. Maybe just a little.
As long as he doesn’t try to force himself on me or something ridiculous like that, I’m sure I can deal. And as much as Brock’s changed over the years since I last saw him, he hasn’t changed that much. He won’t try any funny business with his buddy’s little sister. I’m sure of it.
Or will he?
Other than that, the work is okay. Mostly, for now, I’m catching up on the insanely huge pile of paperwork that Brock has been putting off, probably for months.
There are stacks of invoices, memos, and all kinds of other stuff. When I ask him why he hasn’t dealt with any of it, he shrugs with a grin.
“I have a ton of other things to do, and I hate paperwork. I’ll use any excuse to get out of it. Besides, Luke was never going to let me get a PA of my own if I was handily taking care of everything that landed on my desk, was he?”
“So you just ignored it all?”
“Sure. Why not? It’s gotten you a job. You should be pleased.”
And I am. About having a job, of course. Not about having to dig through these piles of paperwork not organized into any kind of rational system. It’s like he literally threw them all in a drawer. Well, it’s not like that—he actually, literally threw it all in a drawer.
So, week one is finished. The paperwork mountain is mostly under control, and I’ve put a new filing system in place to ensure it never gets that bad again.
All in all, I’m feeling good. I’m doing well at work. I haven’t heard from Pete since he got roughed up by those security guards. And I get to spend time with hot, hunky Brock. Well, some time, seeing as he’s busy a lot.
When he’s around, he’s a complete distraction, which is not totally his fault. I just can’t help but stare at the muscles bulging underneath his business suit. And when he cracks a joke or smiles at me, there’s a little flutter that starts low down in my belly and spreads all over.
I have to keep reminding myself that he’s just being a good boss and that he’s not interested in me that way.
He could have any woman he wants. He’s hardly going to be lusting after a lowly assistant whose creepy ex-boyfriend tries to start fights with him.
But there’s no harm in looking. So I do. A lot. Maybe a little too much.
It’s Saturday afternoon, my first day off since I started the job, and I’m sitting alone at home.
I’ve been fully made up since about 10 a.m. because Brock never told me what time he wanted me to be ready. I’ve basically just been pacing around my apartment since then, checking my phone every five minutes to see if he’s texted or called.
I feel like that teenager with a crush all over again, which is ridiculous. He’s probably taking me to some industry conference.
But no matter how many times I tell myself to relax, that it’s he probably just needs me around to help him collect business cards or take notes, it doesn’t work, and I’m checking the phone all over again.
Finally, around 3 p.m., I get a text from Brock.
Room 2218 at the Ritz-Carlton. Meet me there as soon as you can.
A hotel room? Is he really trying something with me?
I know I’ve been crushing on him, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get away with something like this. Just booking a hotel room and expecting me to turn up and let him do whatever he wants with me? No way.
But . . . he wouldn’t do that. Would he? I’m being way too suspicious.
I hesitate for a moment but then decide to go along anyway, mostly because I’m intrigued.
If he’s waiting in there, wearing only a towel or something, I can just rip him a new one—that might even be kind of fun.
Besides, what am I going to do? Tell him I’m not going and I don’t care if he fires me over this? I’m not sure this is the hill I want to die on.
While I’m in the bus on my way over there, Dean calls.
“Hey, sis.” His voice filters through my old phone’s tinny speaker. “How’s the new job going? Your first paycheck should be due soon right? I’ll be expecting a cut.”
“For what?” I ask, laughing. “I’ll have you know I got the job entirely on my own merit, thank you very much.”
“Yeah? Well, Brock sent me a text the other day, said he didn’t even set up any interviews with anyone else. That sounds to me like I’d at least eliminated your competition, Nina.”
“Yeah, okay, fine. Thank you. That’s what you wanted to hear?”
“Yeah. You’re welcome.” A short pause. When Dean speaks again. There’s a tense undercurrent in his voice. “So, has Pete shown up again?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “I haven’t thought about Pete all week. Maybe he’s gotten the message now.”
“Really? He’s not bothering you too much is he? Do I need to go pay him a visit?” Dean asks. He can be a little overprotective sometimes.
“No, Dean. Please. You’ll only make things worse. I can handle my own business. He’s been dealt with.”
“Hmmm. If you say so.” Dean still sounds un
convinced.
Ever since Mom and Dad died, Dean’s watched over me. I’m grateful for everything he’s done, of course, but sometimes I get the impression he still thinks I’m a kid. It’s more than a little infuriating.
As much as I love my brother, I’m glad he moved away to Seattle for work.
“I do,” I say, “and you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”
I can see the Ritz-Carlton now, gleaming in the early evening sky.
My stomach twists a little with anxiety. What has Brock got in store for me?
I briefly consider telling Dean about the whole situation but quickly decide against it. He’ll only worry, and he already thinks I’m incapable of taking care of myself.
“Listen, Dean, I’m right in the middle of something. I’ll call you back later in the week so we can have a real catch-up, okay?”
“All right, Nina. But you let me know if you get yourself into any trouble. Promise me.”
“I promise, Dean. Stop worrying. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I hang up the call just as I hop off the bus, take a deep breath, and head inside, wondering what I’m getting myself into.
I get the key from reception, take the elevator up, and enter a plush hotel room, my mouth agape.
Thick, soft carpeting. A separate seating area with its own TV. Another TV hanging on the wall across from the oversized bed. A massive bathtub with massage jets in the marble-floor bathroom.
This room probably costs like a week’s salary for me. For a little while, I sort of awkwardly hover around, not sure what to do.
I don’t know what to expect when Brock arrives. Is he going to try and jump me or something?
Still, now that I’m here, it doesn’t seem like the most unattractive idea to immerse myself in warm water and soap bubbles, sharing a bottle of champagne with Brock while drops of water roll down his golden skin, tracing the contours of his muscular . . .
Damn it, Nina. No. Bad. That would be bad.
I shake my head. As if that would help get rid of the sexy images that have already begun to form and multiply in my brain.
