– whatever those intentions are – but his pure sex appeal, his otherworldly boyish good looks, and the god-like physique that I just know is hidden under his fine clothes, all are.
My boss is the epitome of sexy.
He knows it, and, worst of all, he knows I think it, too.
I remain still, determined not to be the one to break the connection. I’m not weak. I can match him in the self-assurance department. I’m not going to be one of the hundreds of drooling women falling at his feet. Becker Hunt has met his match. I don’t know where it comes from, maybe my love of the job I want to keep, but I find the strength I need and close the distance between us until our noses touch. I know his face so well by now, that if I could see it all, he’d have a slight crease on his forehead from his frown.
I reach up and take his hand, gently pulling it down from my mouth. He doesn’t stop me. There’s sexual tension sizzling between us, cracking and sparking. It makes me draw a deep, self-controlled breath before I give in to it. Before Becker Hunt wins and proves what we both know: I’m more enthralled by him than I am irritated. But what about him? Is this just a game to him?
My eyes can’t resist a brief glimpse of his mouth. His lips are slightly parted. I could kiss them right now. Get an answer to my question. But I don’t swoop in. I’m not breaking. I like it here. I’m staying, and I won’t be distracted by his attempts to . . . well, distract me. Mrs Potts is right. Focus on the job. He really can’t help himself, so I will have to help him.
I lift my eyes. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’ I pull away and shut the book with an ear-piercing crack, getting a small thrill when his shoulders jerk – something he tries and fails to disguise. I hold his eyes. ‘You’re keeping me from my work, Mr Hunt.’
He watches me with his penetrating stare for a few moments. I don’t shy away. I mustn’t show weakness. Then he clears his throat, pulling back like he’s been burnt. ‘I have a meeting in my office. Bring me tea for two.’ He stands, straightening out his suit and raking a hand through his tousled hair. He’s flustered. Well, isn’t that a novelty.
‘Yes, sir,’ I answer swiftly and clearly, placing the book on a nearby coffee table.
‘And don’t call me sir,’ he snaps, striding off and yanking the huge door open like it’s weightless. He slams it behind him, creating a deafening sound that rings in my ears long after he’s gone.
‘Jesus.’ I exhale, relaxing my strung-out muscles. That was way harder than it should have been. But I did it. I showed him. Take that, Becker Hunt. I will not break.
When I’m sure my legs can hold me up, which takes way too long for my liking, I head to the kitchen to fetch tea for two, as per his curt order.
‘Hello, dear.’ Mrs Potts shuts the fridge as I enter and places a chicken on the counter. ‘How are you getting on?’
‘Mr Hunt would like tea for his meeting.’
The instant worry that passes across her old features amuses me. ‘I’ll take it,’ she says, crossing the kitchen and pulling a teapot down from the shelf of an ancient wooden cabinet.
I join her and take the teapot from her grasp. ‘Mrs Potts, I can handle it.’
She eyes me doubtfully on a disbelieving huff. ‘The tea, or Becker?’ She attempts to reclaim the teapot, but I pull it away and give her a raised brow.
‘Both. He employed me to take the pressure off you. To relieve you.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I’m immune.’ That’s not true at all, but I’ve certainly reached an epic milestone. ‘Mrs Potts, I can see you have your hands full with Mr H. Please, let me help.’ I need to prove I can do this, to Mrs Potts and to myself.
It doesn’t take her long to relent, though I can tell it’s reluctantly. ‘Have it your way, but don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart.’ She’s off across the kitchen again.
Breaks my heart? ‘Let’s not get carried away, Mrs Potts.’ I laugh, opening the cupboards to find what I need. ‘My heart is perfectly safe.’ It’s my treacherous senses that are the problem here. No living, breathing woman could be unaffected