Chapter Six
Tabitha
Spencer is the cutest. I know he”s being serious and that he honestly prefers the traditional ways. But I can”t help laughing---with affection, not as an insult. ”You”re kind of old-fashioned, aren”t you? Most of the higher ups prefer to email information to their assistants.”
”How is that easier? My assistant is right outside my office door. It”s faster to pick up the phone. You might not receive my email right away.”
”Yeah, I know. And honestly, I”m on your side in that debate.” I wedge my desk phone on my shoulder, holding it in place with my head, and shuffle through the papers on my desk until I find what I need. On the other end of the line, I hear Spencer clucking his tongue softly in a clocklike rhythm. I grab a pen. ”Okay, I”ve got my notepad. Tell me the names and why you”d like to speak to them. Then I will contact each team member.”
”By phone? Or email?”
I can”t stop myself from laughing again. ”Actually, I will text most of them. It”s the preferred method for a lot of the employees.”
”I see. Blimey, I feel a thousand years old all of a sudden. Here are the names..” He rattles them off. ”Have you got them?”
”Yes, boss, I have the names.”
When he speaks again, I can hear the humor in his voice. ”Your tone tells me you think I probably am a thousand years old. I prefer telephones to texting, and notepads to tablet computers. Does that make me antediluvian?”
If he could see me smiling, he”d realize just how much I like his outdated customs. To meet a man who doesn”t have his nose glued to his cell phone... That”s like hitting the jackpot at a casino.
”Maybe I should donate myself to a museum,” Spencer says. ”Watch the world”s most out of touch man avoid technology for no good reason. Tickets are five pounds each.”
I cluck my tongue. ”Five dollars. You”re in America, Spencer.”
”Of course. How much is five pounds in American dollars?”
”Not sure.” I”m about to do something naughty, just to tease my boss. As I rise from my chair and head for the office door, I wonder how quickly the security guards can get up to this floor to drag me out of the building. I”m sure to get fired. But I”m doing this anyway.
I knock on Spencer”s door.
”Come in, Tabitha.”
As I sashay up to his desk, I hold out a sticky note that”s stuck to my index finger. ”Thought you might want to receive your list of appointments the old-fashioned way.”
Spencer cautiously accepts the sticky note and reads it. ”This contains a list of the names and appointment times for the employees with whom I wanted to consult.” He lifts his gaze to me. ”You”re a cheeky chit, aren”t you?”
”If that means what I think it means, then yes. I”m a proud cheeky chit.”
”That means you”re a sarcastic woman.” He rakes his gaze over me while licking his lips. ”Fortunately, I”ve realized today that I like that in a woman.”
”You can feel free to tease me too. I”m not uptight.”
”I”m well aware of that fact.” He smooths the note out, so it”s glued to his desktop. ”Next time I give you a list of names, could you bring them to me on a stone tablet?”
”Oh, sure. I”ll drop by the stone quarry on my way home. Do you prefer eight-and-a-half by eleven size?”
”Is that inches or centimeters?”
I cock my hip and set one hand on it, then roll my eyes. ”Inches, of course. This is America, where we know the metric system is only for stuck-up scientists.”
Spencer smirks. ”Do you treat all your executives this way?”
”Only the ones who can handle it.” I set my bottom on the edge of his desk. ”But you know I”m joking. I”ve never actually behaved this way with any of the other people who”ve had this office over the years. The company has a high turnover rate, especially with chief risk analysts.”
Yeah, I probably shouldn”t have told him that. The words tumbled out of me before I had a chance to think about what I was saying. It”s a bad habit of mine.
Spencer stares at me, unblinking. ”How high is the turnover rate?”
I”ve already stepped in a pile of shit, so I might as well tell him the truth. ”In the six years I”ve worked here, we”ve lost on average one person every six months.”
”And you”re talking about my job. Not all the employees the company has.”
”That”s right.”
He shakes his head slowly. ”Bugger me. That doesn”t bode well for my longevity in this job.”
Without considering what I”m doing, I lean over the desk to touch his hand. ”Don”t worry about the turnover rate. You”re much smarter and nicer than your predecessors. I know you”ll do great here.”
Spencer rubs his neck, gazing down at the desktop. ”I appreciate your confidence in me. I hope I won”t disappoint you.”
”That will never happen.”
He seems less than convinced.
For reasons I can”t explain, I need to make him feel better. So, I pat the top of his head. ”Trust me, Spencer.”
”I do trust you, but saying something doesn”t make it true.” He captures my hand, brushing his fingers over my skin. ”I”m grateful for all you”ve done to make my first day successful, or at least not a bloody disaster.”
”Oh, you would”ve been fine without me.”
I shiver a touch, though I doubt he noticed that. The way he keeps skimming his fingers over the back of my hand makes me feel...something I shouldn”t feel. He”s my boss, but no matter how many times I try to convince myself that I”m not really attracted to him, the truth always outs. I want to crawl over his desk and straddle his lap, then undo his belt buckle and slip my hand inside his briefs.
For heaven”s sake, woman, stop acting like a horny teenage virgin.
I take my own advice and back away. Spencer releases my hand without even trying to hold on to it. The look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. He wants me as much as I want him. It”s wrong. We”ll both get fired. Probably get blacklisted too and never find another job in this industry.
”Goodbye, Spencer. I”ll see you in the morning.”
”Yes, of course. Good evening, Tabitha.”
I need to marshal all my willpower to turn and walk out the door. Even after the latch clicks shut, I have to force myself to trudge over to my desk to grab my jacket and purse. My shoes literally drag across the carpeted floor. I shouldn”t feel this way after spending one freaking day with Spencer.
Tomorrow, I”ll be over my little crush on the boss. And then I”ll go back to acting like an adult.
I arrive home just as the sun is setting, after taking a detour to visit my favorite takeout restaurant. Though I don”t mind cooking, I have no energy left for messing around with that tonight. This day was exhausting---in a good way. I have a new boss who”s a sweetheart and great at his job. I know that based on how he interacted with his team when he introduced himself and also by the way he treats me. I know from my own experience and the stories other administrative assistants have told me that most of our kind don”t have a boss like Spencer.
My previous boss at Bramson Feigenbaum had been...less than amazing.
Yeah, I lucked out with Spencer Halfenaked.
I”ve just sat down on my sofa, and I”m opening up my takeout box, when my cell phone rings. Without thinking about it, I snatch up my phone and tap the button to take the call. ”Hello?”
”Good evening, Tabitha. This is Spencer.”
”I know. Your British accent clued me in.”
”Yes, I should have guessed.” He clears his throat, and I can hear him shuffling around on some type of furniture. ”I apologize for bothering you after work, but I... Well, honestly, I don”t know why I rang you. I suppose it”s because you are the only person whose number I know.”
”If you want to chat, that”s fine with me. Must be hard moving so far away from home.”
”You”re very kind.”
”Why don”t we chat for a while? I was just about to eat my takeout dinner, but if you don”t mind listening to me chew---”
”I don”t mind at all. In fact, I have my own box of takeaway Chinese. There was a restaurant in London I used to frequent that had the best kung pao chicken. Not sure if this food will be up to scratch.” A scraping sound follows, and I”m pretty sure that”s him using chopsticks. ”Bloody hell. I never have gotten the hang of these chopsticks. Just dropped food on my lap.”
I laugh. ”Yeah, that happens to me a lot too. That”s why I prefer a knife and fork.”
”That”s illegal, isn”t it? Must be a worldwide ban on refusing to use chopsticks.” His voice drops to a whisper. ”But I do prefer a knife and fork myself.”
”Well, I won”t spill the beans about your food crime if you won”t rat on mine.”
”It”s a deal.”
For the next hour, we enjoy our meal and good conversation. Spencer tells me how he got started in the financial risk analysis business. I share the tale of my rocky road to becoming an administrative assistant. We don”t talk about our families, but instead focus on enjoying each other”s company with no strings. He surprises me by mentioning the cafeteria incident. Spencer laughs about that, and I laugh too. He seems to have shed his work anxieties.
Will he worry about that tomorrow? I don”t think so. He seems genuinely more at ease now. Maybe our conversation helped. I”d like to think so.
That night, I dream about Spencer. Naughty dreams. The kind that leave me on the edge of orgasm by the time I wake up in the morning. That means nothing. I have erotic dreams once in a while. It”s normal.
But Spencer kissed me.
I reach the office fifteen minutes early, as usual, to make sure everything is set up for the boss when he arrives. At five minutes to nine, Spencer walks out of the elevator. He strides toward my desk with a casual smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, looking like the sexiest, most competent boss on earth. He wears a dark-blue suit that accentuates his blue eyes.
Damn. How can I resist him now?