Page 40 of Shifted Desire

I’m so wrapped up in emailing and calling clients to reschedule his overbooked time, that I don’t notice when his door opens.

The sound of throat clearing has me looking up from frowning at the computer monitor, and my stomach does a flip at the sight of him, all tall, handsome, and intimidating in his suit as his dark eyes bore into me. Even my work alter-ego Jenny would feel some flutters around him, because, damn.

I smile, standing up and smoothing my skirt down. His eyes flick to where I’m touching my hips, and a pulse of heat throbs more insistently in my belly.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Dubois?”

That’s another thing. I really like calling him that. Nathan is my dad’s goofy best friend. Mr. Dubois is the stern businessman who is going to rearrange my insides on the regular, and use me like his own personal sex toy. At least he will be once he gets over his inhibitions.

His jaw works, no doubt feeling the wave of my sexual interest. “You should take your lunch.”

“Oh, is it that time already? I’ll go grab your food from the kitchen. Do you prefer to eat in your office or somewhere else? There’s a cute park around the corner if you want some fresh air.”

Nathan frowns, which unfortunately only makes him more attractive to me. My inner bratty slut wants to see that expression on his face as he rails me in frustration after I’ve driven him to the edge of his patience.

His fist clenches at his side when I let those dirty thoughts seep into the air around me. “I need to skip lunch. There’s a last-minute call that I can’t miss. But you should eat.”

It’s my turn to frown, my mind snapping back into professional assistant mode. “I’ll tell them you’re unavailable. You need to eat. Whatever it is can wait. If we don’t set boundaries with clients, they’ll start demanding even more of your time for non-crucial things, and my job is to keep that from happening.”

Nathan snorts, but when I glare at him, he sobers. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. The offer is appreciated. Unfortunately, I doubt my father will respond well to you attempting to set professional boundaries on my behalf.”

Right. I forgot that his father is still involved with the company. Yikes.

I adore my dad, but when he offered for me to be an assistant for his PI company many years ago, I turned him down. Family working together adds a layer of complexity I don’t want to deal with.

“Are you sure? I’m very persuasive.”

Nathan chuckles. “Don’t I know it.”

A moment passes, weighted by our mutual awareness of the sexual tension in the air.

“Thank you, but no. I won’t subject you to that. Go get some lunch, and if I’m lucky, I’ll be done in time for a quick check-in before my meeting at 2.”

If it’s really as fraught as he’s making it seem, I won’t push the issue. At least not on my first day. In a month or so, watch out, Mr. Dubois senior, I’m coming for you. And not in the sexy way I will be for your son.

Lunch is fairly uneventful. I run into one of the receptionists and ask her where the best spots to eat are around the office, which leads to her spending half my allotted meal time blathering on about the pros and cons of restaurants. It’s fine, though. I mentally note any of the ones that seem like they might fit Nathan’s dietary needs—though that’s a bit tricky when I don’t know exactly what those are.

I scarf down an egg and cheese biscuit from the bodega on the corner with my remaining time, and pick up a few candy bars and trail mix packets to stash in my desk. You never know when you’ll need a hit of sugar. Or when Nathan might need it. He acts like he’s a health nut, but everyone has days where they need a sweet treat to keep from crashing out.

When I return to my desk, I pull the chair out to settle in and get back to it, but freeze when I hear Nathan’s raised voice. There’s a pause, then his muffled reply that sounds exasperated. There’s a thump and he curses.

It’s counterintuitive to bust into someone’s office when it sounds like they’re upset, but my worry for him overrides logic. When I open the door, he looks up, clutching his foot, a heavy paperweight on the floor beside it.

“Are you okay?” I ask, closing the door behind me.

“I’m fine,” he snaps, glaring at me.

My hackles rise, but I don’t let myself get pissy back. Instead, I take in his agitated state and note the drastic changes with alarm. The sunken look under his eyes has increased dramatically, and his usually rich brown skin has taken on an almost gray pallor, sweat beading on his brow.

“You’re not fine.”

He flinches as I step closer, taking a half-step back.

I roll my eyes and bend over to pick up the paperweight. His breath hitches, and he’s unable to hide how he stares at my tits as my neckline gapes. I set the ugly marble lump on his desk and level him with a steady look. “You have a call in a few minutes.”

Nathan sighs. “Yes. I know. I’ll be fine for it.”

Even as he speaks, his hands shake. I’m not sure if it’s from the agitation of whatever his father talked to him about or my nearness. Most likely both.