Page 19 of Miss Understanding

And I was staring at it.

I tore my hungry gaze away just as he realized I was there.

“Good morning,” I greeted, busying myself with the eggs and trying to calm my pulse from the peek of his delicious body. Damn. I would’ve preferred if he’d been soft around the middle. It would’ve been karma for being a dick. But no. He had to have a hot body, too.

“Morning.”

“I have coffee if you want it. But I’ll let you pour it so you don’t think I’m penning little hearts next to your name in my head.” Could I help it if I messed with him a little? What could I say? He was starting to bring out my sassy side.

“I think you made the point of me not being your type very clear last night,” he retorted before walking over to take a mug and pour his coffee.

“Cream is in the fridge and sugar is next to the pot.” Yeah, so I knew how the man liked his coffee. Most assistants did.

“I grabbed a protein bar, so no need to make me eggs.”

Damn. I’d already mixed six of them. Twice as many as I’d eat. “Okay.” I’d make an extra omelet and put it in the fridge for later. Maybe I’d eat it for lunch.

Putting the mushrooms, onions, and peppers in the pan with some butter, I sautéed them slightly. I then added the egg mixture, letting it firm up on all sides before flipping it over with a flip of my wrist.

“I always wondered how people do that. With pancakes and omelets.” The fact he’d stayed, standing there to observe me, was curious.

“It’s all in the wrist. Of course, it took many ruined versions which turned into scrambled eggs before I perfected it.”

He didn’t respond. Only watched while I put the cheese in it and folded it over before then sliding it onto a plate.

I went about making a repeat.

“I said I don’t want one.”

“I heard you, but I’d already made enough for two. So I’ll make the extra and keep it for later.”

He sighed. “If it’ll go to waste, I guess I’ll eat it.”

I tried not to roll my eyes this time around. Whatever. As much as I sought approval with my food creations, expecting to get such from this man was a losing battle. “Help yourself, then.”

We ate in silence at the kitchen table. He didn’t offer a word. Not about how good the food was. Not what we were doing for the day. Nothing. It was beyond awkward. Finally, I’d had enough of the silent treatment.

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“I have five pages of a briefing for you to edit. Then I need to get the Myers bill out the door. Also, I need you to set up a call with Mr. Lambert over at Johnson and Johnson for next week.” He suddenly paused while I was taking a bite. “Do you need to get your notepad to write these things down?”

It was a good thing my omelet was so good; otherwise, I’d be flinging my eggs at him for thinking I couldn’t keep a mental list. “Nope. I got it.”

His brow arched as if he was skeptical. Forget the eggs. I wanted to fork him. And I meant it in the most unsexual way possible.

He sipped his coffee with practiced manners. I bet the guy didn’t slurp anything. I bet sex with him was clinical and boring.

Jesus. Where had that thought come from? Luckily, he snapped it with his next words.

“I need to take the truck for the morning but will return this afternoon.”

At least he was finally seeing his mother. “Take your time.”

“I will.” Suddenly he was up rinsing his plate and then up the stairs. No offers to wash the dishes today.

Chapter Twelve

Liam