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Yet, somehow, those three words sound like the first time I’ve heard his rich baritone.
I swallow hard as Laura turns the door handle and gestures for me to go ahead. I hesitate for a couple of seconds, swiping my palms against the skirt of my navy dress, then enter.
Kit’s rising, now standing, behind the massive desk that should dwarf the large space, but doesn’t.Hedoes, gaze fixated on my every step.
I swallow hard, resenting the warmth seeping into my cheeks despite the cool air.
This isKit. There’s no reason I should be blushing right now. No reason … except the highlight reel of filthy words and sensual touches that is burned into my memory. Our night together was supposed to be easy to forget. But the harder I try to, the more stubbornly it’s stuck in my brain.
I shouldn’t have slept with him.
I shouldn’t have accepted a job hereafterI slept with him.
Two decisions I can no longer change.
“This is Ms. Tate, your new assistant.”
Laura, thankfully, is oblivious to my wayward thoughts. I hope that means they’re not stamped on my face, that Kit is unaware too.
I clear my throat and hold out my right hand, attempting to quickly train my brain into viewing the man in front of me as nothing except an employer.
Boss.Boss.Boss, I chant silently.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kensington,” I say politely.
Kit quirks a brow, and I think he’s going to call me out for theformality. Or start laughing. His blue eyes are dancing in that boyish, mischievous way I’vesometimesfound endearing.
Pretending not to know him at all might be excessive, but it also seems necessary. Our relationship being the definition of professional from here on out feels paramount.
I’ve seen Kit wearing a suit before. He’susuallywearing a suit when I see him. But I’ve never seen Kit in a suit, knowing what wasunderhis suit before.
Unfortunately, there’s a difference.
He’s moving, approaching, lifting his arm to meet my handshake. Each inch that shrinks between us, my heart beats a little faster in response.
Boss.Boss.Boss, I remind it.
“Call me Kit, please.”
My heart rate stutters when our palms connect, a spark of electricity racing up my arm and jolting it into a rapider rhythm.
We shake hands, me shoving all memories of the last time we touched into the farthest recesses of my mind. “I’m Collins.”
“Unique name.” Kit’s expression is carefully neutral, but his eyes are still shining with repressed amusement.
Déjà vu hits in full force. For a few seconds, I’m eighteen, standing in a dorm room, watching a stylish stranger unpack Louis Vuitton luggage.
That’s what Kit said when wedidmeet for the first time. I’m not sure he remembers. I’m not sure whyIremember, how that’s subconsciously stuck in my head.
“Thank you,” I state.
We stare at each other.
Kit is a better actor than I am. I’m not sure I’m being convincinglypoised at all.
“I’m looking forward to working with you,” I add.
Workingforyou would have been more accurate, but despite taking this job, I still have plenty of pride left. Our job titles define a certain hierarchy, but I have no intention of treating Kit as superior to me. And if he expects that, he can find a new assistant.