Page 14 of The Stranger

“Are you okay?” I ask, taking a few steps in his direction.

“I have a meeting with my lawyer across town—” he looks down at his watch and sighs, “—in twenty minutes. My assistant is caught in traffic and my personal receptionist called in sick. I’ve been trying to reach her for half a damn hour and she’s not answering.Shit,” he grumbles as he paces. “I don’t know where she left the files I need.”

“Can I help you look for them?”

“Please.” I place my bag down, remove my blazer, and roll up my sleeves. “We are looking for files, not going to war.”

I stop what I am doing, narrowing my eyes, and when I do, I see the ghost of a smile tug at his lips.

“Where should I start?”

“Fucked if I know. I’ve already turned my office upside down.”

I round the reception desk and pull out the chair. As I glance down, I see a neat stack of manila folders sitting there. I grin because he obviously had what my mother would refer to as ‘a man’s look’.

“This wouldn’t be them, by any chance?”

A deep frown mars his handsome face as he stalks in my direction, and my stomach does a flip-flop. You know, in thatholy shit, this guy is smoking hotkind of way.

This is the second time in a matter of minutes that I’ve reacted to his presence. For someone who vehemently claims he’s not my type, I’m wondering if I may, in fact, have a secret fetish for older suit-clad, broody men, or maybe I’m suffering from daddy issues.

Spencer comes to stand beside me and, on top of all these weird feelings I’m experiencing, I’m now shrouded by his pheromone-inducing cologne. Was this man put in my path to cast doubts on everything I thought I knew about myself?

“Yes, that’s them,” he mumbles, reaching down to pick them up. “I shot off an email to Phoebe’s employment agency, threatening to terminate her if she didn’t return my call in five minutes.” He looks down at his ridiculously expensive watch again. “That was eight minutes ago. As luck would have it, I don’t need to create a position for you after all because I have a vacancy now.”

I gasp. “You can’t fire her over this.”

His gaze moves from the files in his hand to me, and when he scans my face, he gives me a strange look … like he’s only just now seeing me for the first time. “You have makeup on.”

“So?”

“That black stuff around your eyes makes the blue pop.”

“It’s called mascara, and don’t change the subject.”

His attention flickers down to my lips and a shudder courses down the length of my spine as he holds his stare. I’m reminded of what happened when we parted ways the other night. When I’d walked him out after my father rudely told him to leave, he was the first to notice Kayne standing by his vehicle watching us.

That is when he unexpectedly slid his arm around my waist, tugging me closer.“We have an audience,”he’d whispered in my ear. His warm breath against my skin made it pebble with goose bumps. I tilted my head back and gazed up at him, with what I can only gather were large, stunned eyes.

It was the second time that night he’d manhandled me, and I wasn’t exactly comfortable with how natural and safe it felt to be in his arms. He then did something that surprised us both—he leaned in and brushed his lips against the corner of my mouth.“I’ll see you Monday, Miss St. James,”were his parting words before he released me, climbed into his sports car, and drove away. I didn’t even spare a glance in Kayne’s direction as I practically floated back inside.

Is Spencer thinking about that almost-kiss now? Because I certainly am.

“This is my company, and I can do whatever I please.”

“The files were here waiting for you. It’s not her fault that she ended up being sick this morning.”

“She may be good at her job when she’s physically here, but that’s only been two months; she’s replacing my usual receptionist who’s on maternity leave. This is her seventh sick day in eight weeks. I have a corporation torun, and an unreliable player has the potential to let the entire team down.”

“Maybe she has a low immune system.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you always this optimistic?”

“Are you always this pessimistic?” I counter.

Clearing his throat, he retreats a step. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”