Also by Celine Spiller The utive Assistant #2
He blinked. “Right, of course not. I spoke without thinking.”
“God,” I muttered, “you’re no better than Anderson.”
Cameron smiled at me, but this time it was slightly uncertain, which took me aback. It was very, very rare that Cameron ever looked unsettled, especially around me.
“I’m not bad,” Anderson piped up, as he turned down a street. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “I only bring it up because I care about you, Ms. Firth. Your work is impressive, but there’s nothing more important than love.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I love my company,” I replied in a light tone. I knew I spent a lot of time working, but Firth Marketing was my baby, my dream turned reality. Of course, I was going to put my all into it. I didn’t know anything else.
I didn’t want to argue because I knew Anderson had good intentions, but I got this sort of comment all the time, especially now that I’d turned thirty.
I had been single for several years now, and I wouldn’t change that.
Relationships were distracting and complicated, and where in the world could I fit that in my already hectic life?
Sure, it had been so long since I’d had sex that I practically had cobwebs between my legs, but I spent so many late nights at the office that it didn’t really matter that my bed at home was cold and empty.
“Alison’s got plenty of time to make some guy out there feel very lucky,” Cameron piped up. “The company’s in its prime. It wouldn’t be smart for her to slow down the momentum.”
I couldn’t help the surprised raise of my eyebrows. Cameron always had my back, but this was a little unexpected. I thought that maybe deep down, he agreed with Anderson like everyone else.
Before I could reply, rain poured from the sky, rattling as it hit the roof of the car. “We don’t have an umbrella, do we?” I asked, looking around the backseat.
“Sorry,” Anderson said, sounding genuinely distressed as he parked in front of the Firth Marketing building. “I can go in and fetch an umbrella.”
“No, I’ll go,” Cameron said. He dashed out of the car without giving Anderson the opportunity to protest.
Through the window, I watched Cameron move through the shower, raindrops turning his shirt dark.
“He’s too kind, isn’t he?” Anderson said. “He must know that I have to keep healthy for my upcoming vacation.”
This was his last week at work before taking his annual leave.
He was going to the beach with his grandchildren.
I could tell he was excited because he told me about the holiday approximately twenty-seven times.
Usually, it made me smile because it reminded me of my own great uncle, who, when I was a kid, would tell me about his childhood exploits over and over until I knew each story by heart.
But today, as Anderson told me once again about his upcoming holiday, I let my mind wander as I stared through the car window.
The rain was thicker now, crashing violently against the concrete pavement.
The worst thing about Cameron was that he was a genuinely good guy.
He made nervous interns laugh, remembered the names of his coworkers’ children, and always had a smile for everyone.
At first, I wondered whether he was trying to charm everyone as part of some office politics tactic, but I soon realized he was thoughtful, even when no one was watching.
An imposing physique and a kind heart. That was another reason why I felt so guilty when I fantasized about firing him: because he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve the way I resented him, just because of how he looked.
The automatic glass doors of the building slid open, and Cameron dashed through.
He was already soaked from the rain, which had gotten worse since then.
He spread out a black umbrella above him, clasping a second umbrella in his other hand.
As he approached, I saw with stomach-twisting clarity that his light shirt had turned almost translucent and clung to the musculature of his body.
He opened the door and passed the unopened umbrella to Anderson, then extended his hand to me. I let him help me out of the car, completely shielded by the umbrella he held over us.
Gently, he led me to the office building. He was so close, but carefully made sure his damp clothes didn’t touch mine. My skin was humiliatingly hot. Why was I reacting this way? I didn’t even get this flustered for important meetings.
When we reached the building, Cameron let me go inside first. My heels clicked against the sleek tile flooring as I rushed inside, coldness settling on my skin from the chill of the rain outside.
I turned just as Cameron stepped inside, closing the umbrella and giving his head a light shake to dry off his hair.
My eyes darted right back down to his visible chest.
Was my heart really pounding over the sight of a sculpted torso? Had it really been that long?
When I lifted my eyes, I saw Cameron peering at me, almost looking curious. Or was it amusement?
I couldn’t read his expression, but guilt was heavy in my gut.
I tore my eyes away from him and smoothed down my blouse and skirt, my face burning.
While I couldn’t control my feelings, I could control my actions.
I reminded myself that as much as I wanted him, I couldn’t have him. He was my employee, nothing more.