He leans closer. This doesn’t help, nor does my panic that he’ll get stuck in the syrup on the sleeve of my dress.
“Breathe,” he whispers. The cool mintiness of his breath is a stark contradiction to the fire radiating off him in every other way. Still, his words force into my brain and I drag in a quick lungful of air. “There you go.”
His voice is as warm and smooth as his cologne, and somehow, it seems to break the spell over me. A giggle slips past my lips before I can stop it. It’s my go-to reaction, especially when I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m definitely a little buzzed.
Graham shakes his head, his hand subtly pressing me closer to him, a move I pretend was intentional.
I clear my throat in an attempt to swallow my nerves. “This isn’t exactly a good first impression, huh?”
“Depends how you look at it,” he mumbles under his breath and releases me far too quickly. Straightening his navy blue tie, he takes a purposeful step away. While the heat continues to roll off him, it seems now it’s for a different reason. “You do realize you’re seventeen minutes late.”
“I do,” I gulp. “I had an accident this morning . . .” And once I saw your picture, I had to do what any reasonable female would do: find my prettiest panties and matching bra.
His eyes darken as if he can read my mind. I stand before him, his smolder making me wonder how in the hell I’m going to work alongside him every day.
Maybe I can work on top of him. Or under him. Or . . .
“I assume you’re Mallory,” he says, clearing his throat.
“Yes.” I extend a hand, not sure if that’s necessary since we were basically hugging a few seconds ago. “You must be Mr. Landry?”
He takes my palm in his, the size of his twice the size of mine, and shakes it gently. “I didn’t recognize you. You’ve . . . changed.”
“So have you.”
The corners of his lips drift up, pulling mine along with them. The exchange causes my heart to flutter, and I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
As quickly as it came, the softness in his eyes vanishes. It’s replaced with a resolution—but to what, I don’t know. “First things first, I’m going to need you in your seat, ready to go, at eight on the dot.”
“Of course,” I reply. Suddenly, I’m transported back to Latin club and he’s standing at my desk, asking me if I have a partner for our end-of-year project. My hands shake now, just as they did then.
“Second, please, call me Graham.”
“Okay.”
He takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his rich, chestnut-colored hair. “I know we knew each other once upon a time and you are friends with my sisters, but that won’t factor in to your performance here. If that will be an issue at all, we need to discuss it now.”
“Graham,” I say, throwing my shoulders back and ignoring how hot he looks with his furrowed brows, “as the CEO of Landry Holdings, I’m certain you did your due diligence before hiring me. If not, you got lucky because you have my word that I will blow your expectations out of the water.”
His brows pull tighter, his freshly-shaven jaw working back and forth like he doesn’t quite know what to do with me. As his tongue darts across his bottom lip, leaving a trail of wetness behind, I gulp.
I know exactly what you should do with me.
He cuts the distance between us in half. As he looms overhead, my brain scatters, once again feeling like he just read my thoughts. It’s unnerving. So much so, in fact, that I’m ready to apologize. Before I can, he speaks.
“Get situated at your desk, and I’ll alert Human Resources to your arrival.”
After a lingering look that keeps me in place, he vanishes through the solid wood door and I can finally breathe again.
Graham
A catastrophe. That’s what this fucking day is.
The clock flips to noon, reminding me how much time I’ve wasted today. I’m usually heading out for a quick bite to eat in between meetings and calls, having already put in a full day’s work for most people. Today? Nothing. I’ve got nothing except a serious case of blue balls and a migraine to boot.
Linda was in her mid-fifties. On Friday, she would get here an hour early, send me a weekly recap mid-day, and forward me a finalized schedule for the following week before she left. She crocheted me a blanket last winter.
That’s the assistant I want. Sharp. Efficient. Not hot.
I don’t know which way to go to stop the bleeding first. There’s so much to catch up on—weeks’ worth of business, the security company to iron out, a stack of files higher than I’ve ever allowed to accumulate. But here I sit, a file open, untouched. Twenty-six calls to return on my desk phone alone and today was the day it was all supposed to get done. That was the plan and all I can do is sit here with half my attention aimed towards the door.
I’m not sure if Linda ever laughed when my door was closed in the nearly ten years she worked for me. Mallory has five times today. I’m also not certain if Linda ever smelled like lavender or wore a dress that was soft to the touch.
“Stop it,” I groan to myself, trying to wipe the image of her full lips out of my mind. “You’re acting like Lincoln. Damn it.”
As if on cue, my phone rings and his name glows on the screen. “Hello?” I sigh.
“You sound pissier than normal,” Lincoln snickers.
“I was just thinking about you.”
“That’s what they all say,” he jokes. “Seriously, though—what’s up?”
“You, my little brother, were wrong.”
“Uh, about what?”
“Mallory Sims.”
“Sienna’s friend?”
“I like to think of her, for the next few hours, anyway, as my new executive assistant.”
“What was I wrong about? I don’t even know her.”
I whistle through my teeth. “I expected more from you, Linc. You have a reputation in this family and I counted on that. You failed me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, G?”
“She’s hot.” I let that sink in a second. “If you weren’t all in love with Danielle, I probably wouldn’t even let you in my office ever again.”
“Maybe I need to drop by today,” he jokes. “I’m not sure what you’re pissed about. If I needed a secretary, I’d get a hot one. Before Danielle, I mean. I would’ve before Danielle.”
Rolling my eyes, I lean back in my chair. “Of course you would’ve because you’re an animal.”
“Was. I was an animal.” He pauses. “I was an animal, wasn’t I? God. At least I have the memories,” he sighs.
“Good for you. Go relive those while I try to figure out how to manage this.”
“Need tips? I have some awesome tricks from all that animalistic behavior and I’m willing to share. Hell, someone should be able to use them these days.”
“No, Linc.”
“Oh! Barrett told me one the other day about grapes—”
“Lincoln. Stop.” I tap my pen against the glass on top of my desk and wait for his laughing to subside. “I’m being serious here. How am I supposed to work with a girl that looks like she should be . . .”
“Wrapped around your cock?” he offers.
“Not helping.”
Lincoln bursts out laughing again. “Sorry. I think this shit is funny as hell.”