The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile, and my stomach explodes into butterflies. His smile is the very definition of a panty-dropper. I’m shocked there’s not a trail of women following him.
He offers me a hand, and I take it, and he helps me up into a sitting position, a hand on my back. “Did you hit your head?”
“No,” I laugh, “just my ego. I’m late, and I was rushing.”
“I’m sure your boss will understand,” he says with a chuckle.
“I hope so.” My mysterious stranger helps me to my feet, and even in my high heels, he towers over me. “I’m sorry for bumping into you.”
One eyebrow raises. “I’m sure you’ll watch where you’re going next time.”
I bristle at his tone, but I plaster on a smile. It’s my first day. I can’t make people angry on my first day. “I’m sure I will.”
“Where are you headed?”
I brush myself off. “Security. Have to get my badge. First day.”
He flashes me that amazing smile again. “I’ll come with you. Have to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
“I didn’t hit my head,” I say again, but I don’t protest as he follows me over to the security desk, and I can feel his eyes on me while they check my credentials and give me a badge that will get me into the elevators.
I can’t believe he’s still standing there. Or that he’s actually real. This is like those movies where the plain girl stumbles into the beautiful man’s arms. Except this isn’t a rom-com. Men like that don’t go for women who crash into them and nearly injure themselves.
“You really don’t have to stay with me,” I say, smiling. “I mean, I appreciate it, but I’m okay.”
He chuckles. “I’m going to the elevators anyway. Might as well.”
I fight the blush that rushes up my neck. Working in this building, it’s going to be impossible to forget that he works here. I’ll be sitting at my desk and wondering where he is in the building. How could I not?
He swipes his badge for the elevator to open, and I follow him inside. My brain is flooded with elevator make-out scenes and the moments in movies where the hero slams the stop button and kisses the heroine like he might die if he doesn’t. And then he fucks—
I slam that thought to a stop like a goddamn train. You touched him once, Brooke. He’s a complete stranger and you are still late for work.
“Floor?”
“Thirty-five.”
“What a coincidence,” he says with a smile. “That’s my floor too.”
Fuck. I’m definitely not going to be able to get him out of my head if we’re on the same floor.
He looks over at me, and I try not to notice. But I do. “What’s your name?”
“What?”
His hands are in the pockets of his suit, and he looks so at ease it’s unbelievable. This is a man that’s at home in whatever room he’s in. No matter where.
“Brooke,” I say, extending my hand. It’s incredibly difficult to ignore the strength in his hands when he shakes it. “Brooke Stewart.”
“You said it’s your first day?”
“It is.” I wince. “I’m doing great so far.”
He smirks. “No. But I’m sure you’ll make up for it.”
I must be imagining that he glances up and down my body when he says that.
“What job are you starting?”
I swallow. “Secretary.”
“Anyone I know?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Do you know Malcolm Meyer?”
There’s a look of shock, and then his eyes darken. His face turns into something much less pleasant. He covers it in an instant, but I already saw it. “I do know him,” he says. “I am Malcolm Meyer.”
My heart drops through the floor. All the way down to the bottom of the elevator shaft. This is so bad. Bad on so many levels. I’m fucked.
2
Malcolm
Conflicting emotions run through me as the curvy woman practically flees, accompanied by the woman from HR for her orientation. I don’t like people who are late. And when I’d thought she was some random secretary in the building, I’d found it more amusing. But she works…for me. This was the very promising candidate that HR had promised me.
This certainly isn’t a great first impression. And yet…the usual anger that would accompany that behavior in an employee is completely absent. I’m not sure why.
I can’t seem to stop thinking about the way she stumbled into me, and the lush curves I felt pressed against me before she fell. Or the way her hand was soft and warm in mine. Or her big brown eyes staring at the ceiling in shock. The subtle scent of roses that clung to her skin and hair when I helped her to her feet.
She’s stunning.
This is Los Angeles. You can’t turn your head without seeing a beautiful woman. But something about her made me stop and look. And even now I’m looking down the hallway where she’s disappeared, like I can see her through walls. Brooke.
What is it about her that’s caught my attention? I shake my head as I walk into my office. I’ve had plenty of secretaries in the past. And I’ll admit that I’ve had secretaries that are beautiful. But Brooke is sticking in my mind like nothing else right now.
I’m a busy man, and even the beautiful secretaries I’ve had haven’t drawn my attention for more than a moment. Instead of sitting down and getting started on what I’m sure is a mountain of email, I’m thinking about the way her lips parted in shock when I told her who I was.
And I’m wondering if those lips are as soft as I’m imagining them to be. Was that perfect shade of pink on her lips shared by anything else on her body? Her nipples? Lower?
Below my belt, my body starts to react. Jesus, Malcom. You’ve known her for five minutes. Get yourself under control. I know better than to mix business with pleasure. I’ve done it before, and it never ends well. Never.
It doesn’t matter how beautiful she is—and she fucking is—nothing can happen. It would be unprofessional, and I don’t have any idea if she’s even a good fit for the job yet.
I block her out of my head and sit down to do my work. She’ll be spending most of the day in orientation and learning the duties anyway. And I trust the temp to show her the ropes of the email system and how I like things done.
Honestly at this point I should just hire the temp. The agency keeps sending the same woman after I lose a secretary. And she fits in pretty well.
I don’t know why I can’t seem to keep one.
That isn’t true. I do know. It’s because they see me and they instantly feel about me the way I feel about Brooke. They look at me and imagine some kind of sweeping romance.
I’m not an idiot. I know I’m attractive. I work hard to keep myself that way. People underestimate the value of looking good in business. If you’re attractive, people trust you more and your work is just a little easier. But I’ve never slept with any of my secretaries; I’ve never wanted to until now.
It’s just a physical reaction. Chemistry. I’ll get over it. I can be professional.