Page 11 of Adam’s Obsession

Swallowing the drool pooling in her mouth, she grabbed herburrito and her laptop and joined him on the walkway. She tendered a small,professional smile. “Mr. Trillo.”

His smile dimmed just a bit. It seemed as though he wasgoing to say something, something profound, but he just cleared his throat andasked, “Say, do you know if Sara’s back from her vacation yet?”

Katherine focused and brought up a visual of her calendar inher mind’s eye. A photographic memory was one of her more valuable talents.“Tomorrow,” she said. “She’ll be back tomorrow.” Sara was Katherine’s bestfriend and coworker, her partner in crime and confidante. She’d gone back Eastto visit her mother in the hospital.

“Ah.” Adam opened the door for her. “Tomorrow.”

“Do you need something?”

He blinked. A curious red tide rushed up his cheeks. Heshook his head and smiled—one of his tiny secret smiles, the ones that made himseem like a mischievous boy. “It can wait.”

“Yes, Mr. Trillo.”

They walked together in silence to their respective officesand then, with a cool nod, she went left as he went right. She had just droppedher laptop and her burrito on the desk when a soft knock caught her attention.She turned slowly, already knowing who it was.

And yes. Adam stood there, leaning against the doorjamb withhis arms crossed over his broad chest, dominating her office, somehow stealingthe oxygen in the room.

“Yes sir?”

He scrubbed a palm over his face. “Katherine. How long haveyou worked here?”

She frowned. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he count every second hespent in her presence? She did. “Two years.” Two years, three months, four daysand, oh, fifteen minutes.

“Two years.” He glanced down at the floor. “You’ve known mefor two years. Do you think you could find it in your heart to call me Adam?”He shot her a contrite grin. “Mr. Trillo was my dad.”

A red-hot rush climbed her face. Call him Adam? She shookher head, a panicked little twitch. “But you’re my boss.”

“So is Tristan.”

Yeah. Okay. They owned the company. But Tristan was Tristanand Adam was…Mr. Trillo.

“I don’t report to Tristan.”

He shot her a sizzling look that could be construed as darkhumor or annoyance. Or perhaps a combination of both.

“Fine.” He blew out a breath. “If you’re more comfortable Mr.Trilloing me then so be it. It was worth a shot. But in the future, if youcould consider calling me Adam, I’d appreciate it.”

Katherine twined her fingers together. “Yes sir,” shewhispered.

He pinned her with his gaze a minute longer. Something akinto disappointment limned his expression. Then he sighed and left her office.

Collapsing into her chair, Katherine glared dispiritedly ather beloved burrito.

Her appetite had evaporated completely.

She thought about that conversation with Adam all morningand Katherine wasn’t quite sure why. It hadn’t been overly personal orconfrontational. He had simply asked her to use his given name. But there hadbeen something there in the air, an undertone, the haunting memory of lastnight’s dream, perhaps, that had shaken her. Or maybe it had been that sadexpression in his eyes.

Whatever. If Katherine was going to protect herself fromAdam’s fatal allure and maintain the emotional distance she’d worked so hard tobuild and preserve, the last thing she needed was to get all chummy with him.She didn’t trust herself to get all chummy with him. It was bad enough thatsomehow Adam and Savage had become all tangled up in her mind.

Keeping her personal life and her work separate had neverbeen a problem. Until today. For some reason today, whenever she drifted into aSavage fantasy, as she often did, it was Adam’s face she saw.

The last thing she needed was to forget herself, to saysomething, do something that let on how she really felt about him. That wouldbe a disaster of epic proportions. For one thing, she would be mortified if heknew, if he suspected she was infatuated with him. But even worse, such arevelation—the discomfort, the issues, the prejudice it would engender—couldscuttle her career with Trillo–Maris. Harsh experience had taught her that muchat least.

In an attempt to rein in her rampant imagination, Katherineembraced her tried-and-true method of the good old emotional button-up. Herwork. She slid into a complex analysis involving several interlinked Excelspreadsheets.

The project had her so engrossed she would have workedthrough lunch if her friend Jenny hadn’t knocked on the door, waggling a brownbag, luring her to their usual picnic in the courtyard. Katherine waved her offwith a lame excuse. She didn’t have the fortitude for Jenny’s chatter. Nottoday. Instead she ate at her desk, allowing her work to command every ort ofher attention.

She was so absorbed it was nearly time to go home when sheremembered she was supposed to install the VoIP software for Savage.