didn’t have an appointment.
Crap.
It
wasn’t easy being young and inexperienced and new. Most of the time she had no
idea what she was doing, even after two months at the company. She just
followed Oliver Pierce’s orders like he was God. And hell, face it, around the
office, he kind of was.
“I
like your stripes, doll.” Matt winked at Kelsey as he passed, his pleasantries
with Helena Lockheed at an end.
“Thanks.”
She tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going, even with Mrs.
Lockheed watching—he was the office hunk, the biggest flirt in the company, and
it was hard to resist when he turned his attention, however briefly, to her—but
Matt hurried by. “Your tie… nice stripes too!”
He
grinned back over his shoulder. “At least they’re not prison stripes, eh?”
Wishing
she had a snappy comeback, she watched him sail around the corner and then
turned to face her next problem of the day.
“Follow me.”
Kelsey turned the corner, the woman’s heels clicking behind her on the tile of
the entryway floor. She nodded toward one of the chairs by the elevator. “Have
a seat please.”
“Come in,”
Oliver called when she knocked. He was sitting at his desk, feet up, fingers
tented, looking out the high-rise window. His profile would have satisfied a
Grecian sculptor, his dark, close-cropped hair shining in the morning light, his
tie loosened, jacket unbuttoned. He was clearly lost in thought.
Kelsey prayed
Mrs. Lockheed wouldn’t tell him that she hadn’t been at her desk when she
arrived. If there was one thing about her job she hated most, it was
disappointing Oliver Pierce.
“Good.” He
acknowledged her with a nod when she set the file on his desk, reaching for a
yellow legal pad on his desk, tearing off the top sheet. “Here, send this out
to the sales staff. Use the new interoffice message system, okay?”
“Um… Oliver… ”
She crumpled the paper in her hands nervously, clearing her throat. His gaze
moved over her camouflage t-shirt— far too tight —down to her skirt— far
too short —to her crazy, striped tights, lingering there on the length of
her legs. She’d worked for him only a short time, but she’d never seen him look
at her quite like this. It made her wonder what he was thinking.
She tried again,
more formal this time. “Mr. Pierce… Mrs. Lockheed is waiting to see you.”
“Fuck.” He swung
his feet on the floor, putting his hands flat on his desk blotter, head down.
Kelsey swallowed, waiting for him to say something. Anything. Mrs. Lockheed definitely
didn’t have an appointment, and while Kelsey didn’t know exactly what her
presence in the office meant, she didn’t think it could be a good sign.
Oliver raised
his head, meeting her eyes, straightening his tie and buttoning his jacket. He
had his game face on. It was formidable. It actually made her knees wobbly.
“Show her in.”
“Yes, sir.” She
headed out, ready to do his bidding.
“Oh, and
Kelsey.” His voice stopped her at the door. “If you wear something like that to
work again, trust me when I say this—I will spank you.”
She stood, hand
on the knob, blinking at him, breath caught in her throat. What did he say? She
opened her mouth to reply, maybe even clarify. She had most certainly misheard
him.
Spank me? Did he
really…?
“Yes, sir.” She
flushed, meeting his steady gaze and tugging at the hem of her very-short skirt.
He nodded,
dismissing her, and she hurried out into the entryway where her desk—and Helena
Lockheed—were waiting.
“You can go in
now.” Kelsey directed the leggy, older woman, still praying that she wouldn’t
say anything bad to her boss about her.
The woman didn’t
respond. She just swept into Oliver’s office, exclaiming her greeting. Kelsey
watched in surprise as the brunette leaned in to kiss her boss, leaving
lipstick on Oliver’s cheek as he turned his head, before the door swung closed.
Kelsey felt a strange sort of heat in
Crap.
It
wasn’t easy being young and inexperienced and new. Most of the time she had no
idea what she was doing, even after two months at the company. She just
followed Oliver Pierce’s orders like he was God. And hell, face it, around the
office, he kind of was.
“I
like your stripes, doll.” Matt winked at Kelsey as he passed, his pleasantries
with Helena Lockheed at an end.
“Thanks.”
She tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going, even with Mrs.
Lockheed watching—he was the office hunk, the biggest flirt in the company, and
it was hard to resist when he turned his attention, however briefly, to her—but
Matt hurried by. “Your tie… nice stripes too!”
He
grinned back over his shoulder. “At least they’re not prison stripes, eh?”
Wishing
she had a snappy comeback, she watched him sail around the corner and then
turned to face her next problem of the day.
“Follow me.”
Kelsey turned the corner, the woman’s heels clicking behind her on the tile of
the entryway floor. She nodded toward one of the chairs by the elevator. “Have
a seat please.”
“Come in,”
Oliver called when she knocked. He was sitting at his desk, feet up, fingers
tented, looking out the high-rise window. His profile would have satisfied a
Grecian sculptor, his dark, close-cropped hair shining in the morning light, his
tie loosened, jacket unbuttoned. He was clearly lost in thought.
Kelsey prayed
Mrs. Lockheed wouldn’t tell him that she hadn’t been at her desk when she
arrived. If there was one thing about her job she hated most, it was
disappointing Oliver Pierce.
“Good.” He
acknowledged her with a nod when she set the file on his desk, reaching for a
yellow legal pad on his desk, tearing off the top sheet. “Here, send this out
to the sales staff. Use the new interoffice message system, okay?”
“Um… Oliver… ”
She crumpled the paper in her hands nervously, clearing her throat. His gaze
moved over her camouflage t-shirt— far too tight —down to her skirt— far
too short —to her crazy, striped tights, lingering there on the length of
her legs. She’d worked for him only a short time, but she’d never seen him look
at her quite like this. It made her wonder what he was thinking.
She tried again,
more formal this time. “Mr. Pierce… Mrs. Lockheed is waiting to see you.”
“Fuck.” He swung
his feet on the floor, putting his hands flat on his desk blotter, head down.
Kelsey swallowed, waiting for him to say something. Anything. Mrs. Lockheed definitely
didn’t have an appointment, and while Kelsey didn’t know exactly what her
presence in the office meant, she didn’t think it could be a good sign.
Oliver raised
his head, meeting her eyes, straightening his tie and buttoning his jacket. He
had his game face on. It was formidable. It actually made her knees wobbly.
“Show her in.”
“Yes, sir.” She
headed out, ready to do his bidding.
“Oh, and
Kelsey.” His voice stopped her at the door. “If you wear something like that to
work again, trust me when I say this—I will spank you.”
She stood, hand
on the knob, blinking at him, breath caught in her throat. What did he say? She
opened her mouth to reply, maybe even clarify. She had most certainly misheard
him.
Spank me? Did he
really…?
“Yes, sir.” She
flushed, meeting his steady gaze and tugging at the hem of her very-short skirt.
He nodded,
dismissing her, and she hurried out into the entryway where her desk—and Helena
Lockheed—were waiting.
“You can go in
now.” Kelsey directed the leggy, older woman, still praying that she wouldn’t
say anything bad to her boss about her.
The woman didn’t
respond. She just swept into Oliver’s office, exclaiming her greeting. Kelsey
watched in surprise as the brunette leaned in to kiss her boss, leaving
lipstick on Oliver’s cheek as he turned his head, before the door swung closed.
Kelsey felt a strange sort of heat in
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