Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,10

wafted over her and how she could feel his body heat as he sat mere inches from her.

And yet she managed to keep her composure. Succeeded in explaining her work. Kept the conversation focused on her value to the company and didn’t so much as hint about the night before.

“So that’s what I do and how I solve problems,” she finished up with barely controlled heat. “Is that what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” He rotated the papers back around. He’d barely looked at them. However, she had a disconcerting feeling that he’d taken in the most relevant information at a glance.

“I have copies,” she added. “You can take all that with you.” And leave my office, she thought. Before either of us brings up last night. She couldn’t do it—couldn’t discuss what had transpired between them. What had her insides twisted up in a multitude of knots.

The frosty hint went right by him. It was possible that he was somewhat impressed by her diligence and acumen. Or maybe he was thinking of how her ass felt under his hands the night before. She couldn’t tell.

“That’s not necessary,” he said affably. “But thanks.” He remained sitting in his chair. Tapping his long fingers on the sleek wooden frame, Branden idly glanced around her office, skimming his gaze around the space, over her low bookcase, and across her near-barren desk. He frowned.

Did he have a problem with it being neat and clean? She thought a little uneasily that maybe it was too neat and clean. She didn’t want to give the impression that she had run out of work to do after helping to put the company’s balance sheet squarely into the black for the next quarter and beyond. But she also had no desire to show off her personal life through photos and tchotchkes.

Oh yeah, that’s right…she had no personal life.

At least the orchid was pretty.

His gaze stopped at her monitor and then moved to her face.

“One of the first things we plan to do is revamp the computer system,” he said at last. “It’s out of date. We need to get up to speed.” He gestured to the papers, then spoke again in a normal tone even as he stood and rounded the desk toward her. “Great job on the reports.”

He stopped next to her and leaned close, not quite whispering in her ear, but close enough. “About last night…”

Her knees shook. There it was…mention of the night before. She should have taken the initiative and brought it up first. Admitted to her mistake. But he’d beat her to the punch, and now she needed to respond. And not by jumping him. “It didn’t happen,” she muttered.

“Yes it did,” he said in a low intimate voice. “I’d like for it to happen again. If I’m not mistaken, so would you. But now that I know you actually work here…we have to keep things professional.”

He fell silent, his gaze seemingly filled with regret.

“Of course,” she whispered, glancing at the open office door. What the hell was he doing, starting this discussion here? Now? While he was standing so close? It wasn’t smart. It was madness. And ironically, even as he was telling her nothing could happen between them, the fact he so clearly wanted something to happen was turning her on like crazy.

“Last night I was tired,” she said, keeping her voice low. “My behavior was out of line and won’t be repeated.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, not exactly looking pleased.

Cara sat back down just as a voice called out, “Branden?”

The call of his name and the sound of soft footfalls made them look up. The woman who entered Cara’s office was stunning—young, with a controlled waterfall of glossy black hair and delicately outlined doe eyes. Gold earrings and a couture corporate outfit completed the look.

“Oh there you are, Branden,” the woman said. “Are you going to introduce me?”

For a moment, Branden frowned, obviously annoyed that they’d been interrupted. Quickly, however, his expression smoothed out and he smiled politely. “Of course. Deena Raj, this is Cara Michal,” Branden said.

“How do you do.” The woman’s smoothly cultured voice had a slight but noticeable edge. Had she overheard them talking? Maybe. Her gaze barely took Cara in before she walked over to Branden and rested a possessive hand on his shoulder.

Cara expected Branden to flush or shift guiltily. He didn’t. His gaze stayed firmly on Cara. She, on the other hand, did her best to dismiss him and focus instead on the