Pulling a deep breath into my own lungs, I retrieved my clothes from the floor, chuckling. Then I headed to my room. Dressed in a pair of boxer briefs, I worked on making my bed and firmly telling my dick to calm down. Paige might be gorgeous and tempting—and based on her reaction to the sight of me naked, long overdue for a good shafting—but it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be going there. As sweet as that honey might be, I would not be having a taste.
I set my alarm for five a.m. and tried like hell to relax so I could get some sleep. Soon I’d be starting a four-week rotation for cardiology, and knew I’d need all my focus. But even though I was exhausted, I was still wound too tight for sleep to come easily. I heaved an annoyed sigh. Sure would be nice to blow off some steam with a tumble between the sheets . . .
God dammit, no. Don’t even think about it. That just wasn’t in the cards for Paige and me.
I’d have to be more careful. Feeling her hungry gaze on my cock wasn’t something I’d be able to resist if I slipped up again.
Chapter Six
Paige
“Paige, your ten-thirty interview is here,” my assistant Tabitha called into my office.
“Be right there.” I rose from my desk and grabbed the résumé and interview guide for the office-manager candidate I hoped was a good match. As human resources manager for a small nonprofit company, our lack of an actual office manager meant that the extra workload fell on me. I was more than ready to get someone hired into the position. Saying a silent prayer that this person would work out, I made my way to the conference room where Ben Stevens was waiting.
“Good morning.” I greeted him, reaching out to shake his hand. He looked a little young, but age didn’t matter. As long as he had the qualifications and the professionalism to back it up, we’d be good.
As I sat down and began the interview, my mind wandered to Cannon. He’d been gone this morning by the time I got up. For a moment, I thought I’d dreamed everything that had happened yesterday afternoon. But the evidence of his early-morning rituals had been there: a damp towel hanging next to mine in the bathroom, a coffee mug in the sink. But even more intriguing had been a large bouquet of fuchsia and crimson wildflowers that had been sitting in a glass of water on my kitchen table, along with a package of dog biscuits. It was a nice gesture; I’d give him that.
Only once I was in the shower had the memory of our late-night encounter come rushing back. My eyes had shot open, soap bubbles stinging as I blinked and gasped under the harsh spray. There was no forgetting last night.
Now that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in a dream—one I’d deny in the morning and replay with my BOB at night. His nude body rivaled those marble sculptures at the art museum. I’d been overwhelmed at the sheer size and hard maleness of him. Broad shoulders, toned pecs leading down to six fully defined abs, and a tapered waist, the likes of which I’d only seen on male models. The fine smattering of hair told me he manscaped thoroughly and often. And the way he’d stood there, still damp and flushed from the shower, his smirk unapologetic, his large half-erect penis hanging between his legs like an anaconda escaped from the zoo . . . a warm shudder passed through me at the memory.
“Uh . . . ma’am? Is something wrong?” Ben asked, breaking off his response to the question I’d posed thirty seconds ago and now couldn’t remember.
Shit. I nodded rapidly. “I’m fine, thank you. Just a little tired. Please continue.”
I was the exact opposite of fine. Every detail of Cannon’s naked body refused to leave my head—and that stuff just wasn’t something I should know about my best friend’s little brother. But it was too late. My brain was permanently altered. From here on out, I wouldn’t be able to think of him as anything other than a sexual being.
And the thing that had really gotten to me?
Cannon’s voice had remained calm and certain, like he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about standing on display before me. He’d remained rooted there, shamelessly confident, letting me peruse him in all his glory. And he watched me watch him, his eyebrow raised flirtatiously, almost as though he was challenging me to react. Daring me to look my fill, come closer, touch him, satisfy my . . . curiosity.
Clearing my throat, I picked up Ben Stevens’s résumé. “Can you go into more detail about your previous role, and how that fit into your planned career path?” Hopefully I could get my shit together enough to pay attention and evaluate his experience this time.
Ben dutifully launched into a dull and lengthy description of every task required of him at his old company. I jotted notes as he spoke, trying to focus on him and not my body’s breathless, heart-pounding reaction to the memory of Cannon.
Twenty minutes later, I still didn’t have any idea if Ben was the right person for the job. My brain was so scrambled, I was having a hard time concentrating.
“Can you tell me why you’re interested in the office-manager role?” I asked.
Ben’s brows drew together and he frowned. “You already asked me that.”