ceiling, and thinking of Branden Duke, their heart-stopping kiss, and the fact that as of today, Branden was her new boss.
Her gorgeous, hot, I-totally-want-to-fuck-him boss.
Did she really have to go to work? Maybe she could call in sick.
And while she was at it, maybe she could look for another job.
Heck, maybe she could convince Max to take her with him into his retirement. She could be his personal assistant. Book his flights. Run him his pina coladas on the beach. That sort of thing.
Ugh.
She was clearly having a mini-breakdown here.
Finally, unable to fool herself any longer, Cara gave a frustrated groan, flung off the covers and padded barefoot into the bathroom. She had to face reality. She couldn’t quit her job. Couldn’t hide away in shame from Branden forever. She needed to woman up, get to work, and face whatever was coming, even if that was Branden deciding in the cold light of day that he couldn’t have a random woman he’d kissed at a party working for him. At least if he fired her, she’d be able to collect unemployment for a time.
In the bathroom, Cara switched on the light and peered at her reflection. As post-party reflections went, it wasn’t too bad. There was no major puffiness or wild-kingdom streaks, since she’d gulped down two glasses of water and removed her makeup before tumbling into bed. After dropping her yellow flowered cami and sleep shorts on the bathroom floor, she cranked up the shower spray and stood under it.
And just like had been happening all night, she struggled to think of anything else but Branden Duke. No such luck.
She closed her eyes and felt his hands moving all over her, liquidly sensual, hotter than the water beating down on her bare skin.
Her own hand slipped between her thighs, but with an abrupt curse, she pulled her hand back.
Last night, Branden Duke had haunted her dreams and apparently he was going to haunt her daylight hours, as well. Getting herself off by fantasizing about him was not something she was going to let happen because it would only entrench him further into her mind. Fantasies were great, but she had to keep her focus on real life, not fantasy. That meant figuring out how she was going to face him in the cold light of day despite what had happened between them the night before.
Once out of the shower, she dressed quickly in her walk-in closet, a routine that hadn’t changed in the three years she’d been working for Dubois & Mellan.
The mirrored closet was a touch of luxury she appreciated. Dubois & Mellan had financed the construction of the building and owned several floors outright. The biggest apartments were reserved for visiting executives, but one of a handful of coveted studios had been offered to her on a temporary basis as part of the signing package.
She was lucky to have it. She did pay rent, but at below market rate. Housing costs were a near impossibility in New York for a newly minted economics grad without a trust fund or rich parents who could cosign an astronomical lease.
She gave one last look around as she put on her parka and wrapped a warm scarf around her neck. After flicking her multiple locks closed, she headed down the elevator, then murmured a good morning to the doorman, who opened the lobby door for her, and went out into the chilly early morning air. She pulled her sunglasses from her bag and shielded her eyes from the sun’s first rays that barely penetrated the narrow streets of New York’s Financial District, a closed-in space lined with old stone buildings jostled by towering glass skyscrapers. Young professionals, heads down, eyes on their smartphones and earbuds plugged in to get a jump on the overseas markets, crowded the sidewalks.
Soon, she was walking through the bronze doors of Dubois & Mellan. There were a few of her coworkers already in the spacious lobby. Some always beat her in, no matter how early she got up. She nodded and smiled to the few who caught her eye, but they didn’t get off their phones to say hi as her heels clicked over the terrazzo floor.
She took a sip of coffee and headed to the security setup at the far end of the lobby, swiping her magnetic ID through a computerized turnstile. Five minutes later, she was approaching her office, another huge perk for working with D&M, considering she’d just turned twenty-three when she joined