The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,10

turning around.

He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Are you settling in all right? No issues with the software programs or anything?”

I smirk to myself. “None whatsoever, boss.”

He makes a noise that’s part grunt, part sigh. It’s the first time I’ve detected even a hint of his frustration since I started working here four days ago. “Have I said or done something to offend you? You’ve seemed a bit…put out by me ever since we met.”

We met two weeks ago, dickhead.

When your dickhead was inside me.

I plaster on the fakest smile I’ve got in my bag of tricks and turn to face him. “Not at all, boss. I just don’t do a lot of chit-chat when I’m in work mode. Is that going to be a problem?”

He narrows his eyes, a look I’ve come to recognize as consternation on him. “As long as you do your job and do it well, Ms. Castellanos, I couldn’t care less how much watercooler gossip you partake in.”

“Good thing I bring my own water bottle with me every day.”

His expression remains mostly blank, unreadable. But his voice comes out far less pleasant than before. “Were you able to finish up those PowerPoint slides from yesterday? I realize there were quite a few and I didn’t give you a lot of time—”

I toss him a flash drive containing the file with said slides. He catches it against his chest with one hand. “Finished them before I left last night,” I tell him flatly. “Let me know if they aren’t up to snuff.”

His face still doesn’t change, with the exception of the slight clenching of his jaw. “You’ll learn soon enough that I have no problem delivering constructive criticism.”

I quirk a sassy eyebrow. “Neither do I.”

He taps the flash drive against his palm, his eyes thoughtful. “Are you always so outspoken with your superiors?”

I experience a brief moment of uncertainty. He can easily fire me without cause if he wants to, and I’m already falling in love with this position. I need to tread carefully here. “I wasn’t aware that maintaining a pretense was a prerequisite for this job. And from what I’ve heard around the watercooler, you value honesty and assertiveness in your employees. You want me to do my job well? Being forthright in my opinions with my superiors is how I’ll do it well.”

“Some might call that recalcitrant.”

I shrug. “I prefer obstinate.”

I watch with reluctant fascination as his entire face transforms into something I’ve never seen from him. It’s as if a light has suddenly clicked on inside him. A different version of his personality is peeking through. A smirk begins to play over his mouth. His shoulders relax considerably, and he shifts all of his weight to one foot, cocking his hip out in the process.

“That’s just a fancy word for ‘bullheaded,’ duchess.”

My lips part.

What the hell did he just call me?

And why does that change in his voice suddenly bring to mind images of him making me come? Of me making him come? Thinking about that night two weeks ago is breaking my first commandment. Thou shalt not dwelleth on the nighteth thou debased thyself with thy boss.

My new life began four days ago.

And this new version of me never slept with her movie-star gorgeous boss.

Realizing that he managed to knock me off-guard, satisfaction crosses his features as his gaze brazenly rakes over me. Which is obvious code for I’m not your boss for these next few seconds. According to his body language, this six-by-six cubicle is all that exists in the world right now. A place where all titles are forgotten and he’s free to be Ryder Colson, man, instead of Ryder Colson, boss man.

And damn it all, I feel the touch of that gaze everywhere.

Skating along my skin, stroking across my breasts, twining through the strands of my hair. It’s incredible. The man I work for actually has the nerve to check me out at my own desk, inside his own office, as if he hasn’t already seen what’s underneath these clothes.

When his eyes finally find mine again, his pupils are larger and his expression lacks all humor. He points at me with the flash drive. “I’ll let you know what errors I find. Be in the conference room in ten minutes. Welcome to The Colson Group, duchess.”

Reflecting back, I realize that he at least made an attempt to be polite in those early days. He was cordial, professional. I was the one who bared my teeth and chomped down on