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But he won’t take the bait. No surreptitious glances at my ass or cleavage. No change in his demeanor if I accidentally brush against him. I must not be his type or something based on his lack of interest.
Oh God, he’s not gay, is he? That’d be just my luck.
I drum my fingers on my desk, double-checking Connor’s office door is closed, then open a private browser on my computer to do a quick search. Has Connor previously dated? Been photographed with anyone in particular? I need a clue as to what his type is.
I scroll through images, mostly of him at various charity events over the years, but the only person he’s regularly shown with is a man I assume is his brother based on the similar dark hair, blue eyes, and facial structure.
Damn it. Seriously, how are there no pictures of him with a significant other? Has he never had one? Or always been super private about it?
With hours already wasted, I need to take more drastic action. All of my earlier attempts must have been too subtle. But what can I do? I don’t go after guys.
I need to be daring. Bold. In other words, completely unlike myself.
I make a split-second decision and grab my water bottle, untwisting it. It’s do or die now. Taking a deep breath, I tip it upside down over my chest, the cold liquid making me jump. I immediately pull my shirt away from my skin, then realize that defeats the purpose. I need it to be plastered.
Getting up, I knock quickly on his office door and let myself in, his eyes widening as he looks up at me from his desk.
“Connor, I’m so sorry, but my whole water bottle spilled. I mean, look at me.” I spread my arms out wide, making sure he can take in the entirety of my soaked chest, my nipples beading with how cold I am.
His gaze flicks down, but I can’t read his expression. Either there’s no reaction or he’s a master poker player.
“Do you, uh, need to change?”
What I need is for you to want to rip my shirt off. “I guess. I don’t think it’ll dry anytime soon.”
I lean over more, but he averts his gaze, meeting my eye instead.
“Go upstairs and take anything out of Dad’s closet. You can wear it until your shirt dries. See if there’s a dryer up there too.”
I press my lips together, part of me disappointed he came up with a solution so quickly, the other part impressed, then smile coyly at him. At least I hope it comes across that way. “Okay, thanks. Do you want to come up with me?”
He blinks, my words not seeming to register. “Come up with you?”
Goosebumps race over my torso, a combination of my chilly shirt clinging to my chest and his low voice.Get yourself together, Emma. Nothing’s actually happening between you two.
“To show me where the closet is.” God, I hope he doesn’t call me out on how stupid I sound. It’s obviously in the master bedroom.
“I trust you can figure it out.”
He tilts his head down, returning his attention to the spreadsheet in front of him, and my stomach sinks. One more failed attempt.
I turn and march to the door with the elevator, jabbing the call button. I knew trying to seduce him was a stupid idea. I’m horrible at it.
It’d be different if I could be blatant about it, but we’re at work. If I come on too strongly, he might fire me. Then I’d have no chance of convincing him. And honestly, I think I could be good at this job. Plus, I could really use the money.
Maybe Dad will give me an extension. I just have to come up with a new plan.
Chapter Four
Connor
The elevator doors shut and I glance down at my lap, my hard-on straining against the fly of my pants.
Thank God she left. It was tough enough being around her all morning. Her repeatedly getting close, that delicious scent of hers muddling my brain. Her innocently touching my arm, gazing up at me with those gorgeous green eyes, unaware of the effect it has on me. Her bending over in that skintight skirt, oblivious to the way she’s moving in front of me. Her leaning over my desk requesting my signature, unwittingly giving me a show to the most perfect pair of breasts I’ve ever laid eyes on, practically spilling out of her bra.
But her standing here with a dripping wet see-through top, nipples beaded, asking me to stare at her chest? That was too much to handle. Especially when she’d asked in that low, throaty voice if I’d join her upstairs. My dick didn’t stand a chance against that.
I’ve never in my life had trouble working with a woman. I’ve prided myself on my ability to always stay friendly and professional with others. But I’ve never met someone like her.