Home > Sweet Surrendering (Surrender Saga #1)(23)

Sweet Surrendering (Surrender Saga #1)(23)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“You should ask him if he’ll put his file in your credenza!”

“Defrag your lady system!”

“Put his spam in your inbox!”

After a while we were all laughing so hard that there were tears and we were all gasping and rolling on the floor and I knew that my stomach, in addition to my back (from the vigorous table sex) was going to be sore tomorrow.

“Ass-istant!”

And we were off again.

Chloe had decided to crash on our couch, and getting her up was a chore, even when I wasn’t a little hung over. Stupid wine.

“Get up!” I had resorted to smashing her in the face with pillows. That girl slept like the dead. Seriously, sometimes I had to check her breathing to make sure she was still alive.

She made a groaning sound and rolled off the couch. Well, that was a start.

Sloane was hunched over the coffeepot like Golem over the Ring and she growled at me when I asked her for a cup. I was running late, but I didn’t care as much as I normally would have. There was that “almost late” period where if you hurried like a madwoman you could get there just a few seconds late and once you’ve passed that, you’re late, so f**k it. This was one of those mornings. I knew I was going to be at least ten minutes late, so I was going to have to text Lucas and let him know so he didn’t think I’d been hit by a taxi or something.

In the harsh light of day, things were a little less funny. I couldn’t have a sexual relationship with Lucas. I’d been insane to even consider it for a moment. It was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Running late. We need to talk when I get in. I hit Send and waited for a response.

Don’t forget my cherry Danish.

And that was it. I was left staring at my phone and thinking, once again, that boys are weird.

All three of us managed to get our butts awake and ready to go to work. One of the upsides of having Sloane as a friend was that she ALWAYS had extra clothes around, so lucky Chloe didn’t have to do the walk of shame and instead got to go to her job as the manager of a spa looking like she just stepped off the runway.

“Have a good day at work, dear,” Chloe said as I headed toward the T and she waved for a taxi.

“You too. Call me later.”

“Not if I call you first.” With a wink and a wave, she was off. Silly girl.

I was about to head for the T, but then I realized I had to get Lucas’ stupid Danish, so I walked to the closest bakery and then grabbed a taxi.

I was still late, and stressed about talking to Lucas. I wondered if his family called him Lucas. Or Luke. Or Luc. It was a nice name. Especially paired with Blaine. It had a great ring to it.

“Is that my Danish?” The owner of the name with the great ring appeared in front of me as I’d been strolling to my office. Crap, I’d forgotten about him while I was thinking about his name. Which doesn’t make any sense, but there you have it.

I held up the bag in front of him and gave him my best smile.

“Your Danish, Mr. Blaine. And here is your coffee. Black. Like your soul.” Shit, I wasn’t supposed to be flirting with him. Bad Rory.

“Thank you very much, Miss Clarke. I was informed by the message on my cellular phone that you wished to speak with me. Would you like to do that now, or would you like to finish your breakfast first?”

Curse him and his adorableness.

“I would like to finish my breakfast and then I will call you, Mr. Blaine,” I said before pivoting in my heel and walking to my office.

I didn’t let myself laugh before I shut the door.

Trouble. I was in trouble.

NO. I was sticking to my guns. Standing my ground. Putting up walls and fences and slamming my legs shut. A chastity belt might be a good idea right about now.

Sighing, I banged my head on the door. Why was this such a challenge? He was just a guy. Just a guy, like any other. Maybe if I pictured him with Hal Marksman’s belly that would turn me off.

I closed my eyes and tried, but that just led to me picturing Lucas without his shirt and then I started thinking about his nipple ring and then I was a lost cause so I went to my desk, drank my coffee and ate my croissant. They were out of my donuts.

I ate slowly and sipped my coffee slowly and went through my inbox and got started for my day slowly. I was putting off talking to Lucas. I even opened one of the presentations that I was required to study and approve and be able to discuss rather than talk to him.

By 9:30, I realized I was becoming the equivalent of a kid hiding in the garage to avoid seeing her parents because she broke Grandma’s vase.

I reached for the phone and dialed Lucas’ extension.

“Hello, you’ve reached Aurora Clarke’s office, how may I direct your call?” He knew it was me. He could see it on the caller ID, but he was screwing with me.

“Yes, would you mind stepping into my office for a moment, Mr. Blaine?”

I could hear him smirking.

“Yes, of course, Miss Clarke.” I hung up before he could say anything else and there was a knock a few moments later.

“Come in.” He walked in with authority this time.

“You said you wanted to see me?” He raised one eyebrow as if he thought this is going to turn into a sexfest on my desk. Think again.

“Yes. I wanted to discuss the thing that happened in the conference room yesterday and to tell you that it’s not happening again. Ever.” I folded my arms and crossed my legs to emphasize that my body was in lockdown. I might want to get a blinking NO TOUCHING sign.

He grinned at me, still thinking I was flirting. “Never, ever?”

“Never, ever. It shouldn’t have happened the first time, or the second. It was wrong. Very wrong. So, from here on forward, there will be no touching, no licking, no kissing, no longing glances, no undressing via eye contact, no winking, smirking or lascivious stares of any kind. All of this,” I said, motioning to myself, “is off limits. Understand?”

He stared at me for a moment as if he found me fascinating.

“You’re so sexy when you think you’re in control,” he finally said.

“No. I’m not sexy. I’m your boss. And you’re my employee, and any relationship other than a strictly professional one is against the code of conduct that we both signed. So enough of that. I’m not sexy.”

“Yes, you are. You’ll always be sexy.” Ditto, buddy.

“Well, I don’t know what to do about that, so you’re just going to have to deal. The only physical contact we will have from this moment on will be a cordial handshake.”

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