Page 41 of Boss of Me

After taking in the view for a few minutes, I turn from the window and wander over to the humongous desk. I wish I could say that Gunner is overcompensating, but based on the substantial bulge I felt in his pants that night, the man hasnothingto compensate for.

The desk is covered with files and papers. There are no photographs or personal mementoes. No squishy stress balls, logo-laden mugs or other tchotchkes. It’s the desk of a ruthlessly disciplined man who works slavishly hard, almost to the exclusion of everything else.

When I googled him—which I finally did—I was impressed to learn that he developed and patented an anti-spyware app while in grad school at UT. The innovative software product attracted a slew of investors who gave him the funds to launch his startup. Now, at age thirty, he reigns over a tech empire with offices in more than forty countries around the world.

As if that weren’t impressive enough, he also owns a hydrogen energy company, luxury hotels in France and Switzerland. And, of course, the club he took me to the night we met.

I trail my fingertip along the edge of his desk, eyeing the high-backed executive chair. It looks like a throne, so big and commanding that I’m tempted to sit in it.

Biting my lip, I look over my shoulder to see if Gunner is coming. Not seeing or hearing anything, I round the desk and lower myself into the large chair, sighing as my body sinks into the plush black leather. It feels heavenly, and I can smell the faintest trace of Gunner’s cologne beneath the rich material.

Greedy for more, I twist around in the seat and sniff the headrest like a bloodhound following a scent trail. While cleaning Gunner’s bedroom yesterday, I took a picture of hiscologne bottle—some European luxury brand I’d never heard of before. I sprayed a little on my wrist so I could indulge my secret addiction for the rest of the day. I also took several deep whiffs of his shampoo and body wash.

Creepy? Yes. Pathetic? Abso-freaking-lutely.

My phone’s musical ringtone goes off. I fumble it out of my purse and stare at the screen. Not recognizing the number, I answer tentatively, “Hello?”

“Marlowe? This is Dawson.”

“Dawson?” I can’t hide my surprise. I thought I’d never hear from him again.

He chuckles. “Don’t tell me you forgot me already.”

“Of course not.” I smile. “How are you?”

“Good, good. Keeping busy, working hard. Speaking of which,” he says excitedly, “I hear you got a new job working for Pantheon’s CEO.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m his housekeeper.”

“Cool, cool. Gotta start somewhere, right?”

Is that a dig?

“So what’s the bossman like?”

“He’s . . .”Impossibly beautiful. Infuriatingly cocky. Bone-meltingly sexy. “He’s fine. I hardly ever see him.”

“No shit. The guy didn’t get filthy rich by sitting around on his hands all day.” Dawson sounds almost infatuated. “So, listen, Barbara told my mom what happened the night of our date. I’ll admit I was pretty annoyed that you left with some other guy. But it was partially my fault for not calling sooner to tell you I was running late. I’d still really like to meet you, if you’re game.”

“I am,” I say with more enthusiasm than I feel.

“Great,” he replies, sounding pleased. “I’m going out of town this weekend. Are you free next Saturday?”

“Next Saturday?” I hedge.

“Yeah. I thought we could go out to dinner.”

My smile feels forced. “Sure. We could do that.”

“Awesome.” He chuckles. “I’ll pick you up this time so there won’t be any mixups.”

I blush. “That’s probably a good idea.”

He chuckles again. “I’m meeting with a client so I gotta run. Text me your address when you get a chance.”

“Will do. See you next Saturday,” I say just as I hear Gunner’s growly voice approaching.

Panicking, I grab my purse and jump to my feet. But he’s already striding through the door, yanking his tie loose as he barks into his Bluetooth headset.