Page 20 of The Christmas Trap

"So?"

She closes her eyes, blows out a breath, then slowly nods. "I’ll work out a way." She turns to leave.

“Don’t forget my coffee.”

She glances back at me over her shoulder, and that flash of quiet defiance on her features spears straight through my bloodstream. Lust curls low in my gut.

I love that she follows my orders the moment I give them. It’s more than the efficiency of a good executive assistant. It’s a jolt of power that edges into territory I’ve always kept far from my professional life.

And yet, I can’t stop. I push her, knowing she’ll push back. Knowing she’ll meet my stare without flinching. Knowing she’ll stand her ground even as she does exactly what I tell her to do.

It’s intoxicating. It’s dangerous. And it makes me want her in ways I have no business wanting.

"I also haven’t dismissed you yet,” I drawl.

She turns slowly to face. "I am yourexecutiveassistant.”

"Next, you’re going to tell me that you’re not my 'assistant,' hence, you’re not going to get my coffee." My voice comes out more belligerent than normal.

Damn, I’m trying to rile her, but I'm losing my cool instead.

"That’s not what I was going to say." Her eyes gleam.

Well, hell. It’s my turn to be surprised. I fix her with a gaze that has reduced my management team to nervous wrecks. But not her, apparently.

She lifts her chin. "I’ll get you your coffee. However, my time is better spent functioning in the capacity of yourexecutiveassistant. Which means, putting my brain power to use behind executing your strategy and not wasting my time on tasks which could be performed by anyone else."

That’s true. There are certain tasks which I’d like you to perform. No one else will do for that.I don’t say that aloud. I also am aware that these thoughts are taking me down the wrong path. I do respect this woman. She hasn’t lost her nerve, despite my having given her a long list of difficult jobs to carry out. And she’s my employee… And I have never mistreated anyone on my team. And I don’t plan to start with her. Doesn’t mean I won’t challenge her. Besides, she makes a good point.

"Good negotiating tactic." I jerk my chin. "Have HR hire an intern who’ll report to you and will carry out the activities that don't require thinking time."

She stiffens. Surprise slackens her face, then she nods. "You’re making the right decision."

Once more, I’m filled with admiration. She knows how to make it seem like this was my idea, when it was her who hinted at it.

Unwilling to concede this point to her, I lean back in my seat. "Let’s see ifyoumade the right decision by accepting this role."

Her eyes spark with the light of fight in them. My pulse thrums in response. The blood races through my veins. I can’t remember feeling this alive before in someone else’s presence. She’s livened up the prospect of another working day.

I should be more excited with the thought of the upcoming merger I've been working on, but of late, the thrill from closing another acquisition or pitting wits with an opponent in the boardroom has been fading.

I find myself increasingly drawn to helping veterans rebuild their lives after leaving the forces.

I hire former service men and women whose skills fit my company’s needs. I also cover the cost of their retraining so they can transition smoothly into the corporate world.

But it’s not enough. I want to do more. I want to make a real impact.

The problem is that my job takes up nearly all my time. I don’t have the bandwidth to do more for veterans, and that frustrates me. Especially when my day-to-day work feels repetitive, almost meaningless by comparison.

It doesn’t give me the rush of adrenaline it used to. Not until Lark, that is. Pitting wits with her is like a breath of fresh air.

The enthusiasm in her eyes, and her eagerness to prove herself are infectious.

She seems like she’s about to bite back a response, one I’d have enjoyed. Instead, she firms her lips, settles for another brisk nod, then pivots and begins to head out.

"Oh, Ms. Monroe?"

She pauses.