Written by a Woman

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

SIGNE

“Are you ready?” Jacqueline asked, startling me out of my zone. I blinked up at her hovering over my desk before I quickly checked the time on my computer screen to confirm.

“Oh, yes, let me just save this really quick,” I clicked out of the reports I was working on and locked my computer screen, before standing and pushing my chair in, “Do you have the list from Nikhil?” I asked her.

Jacqueline frowned, leaning her weight on one hip and tapping through her iPad. I took a moment to admire Jacqueline. I assumed that she was only a year or two older than me, but she was interesting because some days she looked a lot younger. I had already asked her about her skincare routine in the past, and she told me that she just washes her face with the same Head and Shoulders shampoo she uses for her hair.

I then asked her what it was like to be God’s favorite, and she snorted before blushing and walking away.

Jacqueline was a tough nut to crack. Some days she would wear jeans and sneakers, making me feel like she was a normal grown woman capable of silly friendships and teasing and joking. Other days, like today, she wore her pencil skirt with a button-up blouse. Her shiny brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, not a hair out of place. Glasses resting on her nose. This made her look older, I thought. Like a mature woman whose idea of fun was sipping wine and discussing finances and investments.

Like someone who played Monopoly because they actually enjoyed it and weren’t bullied into it.

Other days, like when she wasn’t interviewing potential new employees, she sometimes wore jeans and a button-up shirt, with sneakers. Her hair would be at least half down, her glasses only coming down from their perch on her head to read something in front of her.

During interview days, she was the epitome of professionalism.

I understood the need to dress a specific way, though. Women always struggled to be taken seriously in any male-dominated field. Our clothes sometimes became armor, designed to show authority. To make others take us seriously.

“Cute skirt,” I smiled at her as I stood up and grabbed my own iPad and phone.

“Oh,” Jacqueline looked down at herself as if remembering that she wore a skirt today, before giving me a shy smile and muttering, “Thanks.” Then she blinked down at her iPad and said, “I don’t have Nikhil’s list, can you pull it up?”

I nodded and tapped away on my own iPad to the email he sent us, giving her a thumbs up and following her to the conference room. Most of the interviews were going to take place via video call, and neither of us had cameras hooked up to our work computers. So, using the conference room, and projecting the interviews on the screen, was what we opted to do.

Nikhil’s interview schedule that he asked me to sit in on a couple of weeks ago, ended up conflicting with the managerial retreat to Santa Barbara. So, Jacqueline and I were stuck here, not sitting by the pool or on the beach, but instead going through first-round interviews for potential candidates for Nikhil to hire for his team.

Knowing that they were all living it up at the Ritz Carlton while Jacqueline and I covered interviews, I secretly hoped everyone there got a sunburn. Or at least didn’t read any of the signs at the Santa Barbara beaches and got a bunch of tar stuck to the bottoms of their feet.

As we entered the conference room, waving hello to a passing intern who was watching over the front desk while I helped interview, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

I pulled my phone out to see a message from Mary.

Mary: It’s such a bros club here, but it’s easy to ignore the insane testosterone levels when I’m sunbathing at eleven am.

Me: I hope you forgot sunscreen.

I smirked as Jacqueline held the door to the conference room open for me to walk through.

Mary: I wish you were here, I’d love to have another uterus to talk to.

Me: Be sure to mention that to the bros next time they ask me to organize all that for you.

Mary: I’m sorry!! …Want me to make it up to you?”

Me: …I’m listening.

I pocketed my phone to take a seat.

“Oh,” Jacqueline blinked at something on her iPad, “Nikhil added another interview since the last time I looked at this.”

“That’s fine,” I shrugged. We were only interviewing three, now four, people. At this point, I felt like these were just interviews to make sure these people were worth interviewing with Nikhil himself. That their resumes weren’t just complete lies, and that they responded to meeting requests. That’s where the bar was, apparently.

Truth be told, I thought it would be better to have someone from engineering here to help guide Jacqueline and me since neither of us coded or knew the languages the company used to develop software. However, I was excellent at picking up vibes and figured I could spot a liar easily enough.

Jacqueline tapped on her iPad, a small frown on her face as she thought about what she was reading. I felt my phone vibrate again, so I pulled it out and saw another message from Mary.

It was an image.

I lowered the brightness on my phone and held the phone closer to my chest. Mary had sent me some not-safe-for-work content before, usually some funny thirst trap or a funny meme. I had no idea what to expect, so better safe than sorry.

When I opened the image, I had to focus my eyes on it intently, because I couldn’t wrap my head around what I was seeing.

It was an image of the resort Mary and the others were staying at. It looked like everyone was poolside, Mary’s feet were at the bottom of the picture, propped up on a side table. Nikhil sat on the foot of one lounge chair, his elbows on his knees as he slouched with his head turned to talk to Zaid.

Zaid was shirtless and in short bright blue swim trunks.

I could feel the saliva start filling my mouth, and I internally chided myself for being a hussy—but first, I scanned every detail of the image Mary sent me.

Zaid had his hands behind his head, dark hair dusted his armpits and chest, and his biceps popped a little with the relaxed posture. He wasn’t flexing, but his stomach was still flat with little dips where defined abdomen muscles showed themselves. His ankles were crossed, resting behind Nikhil based on the side view I had.

My phone buzzed with another text.

Mary: Did you know the CTO was hiding all that?

I gulped because frankly, I suspected.

Because I was a pervert.

Another text from Mary came in.

Mary: As someone who is a big fan of titties, I am a girls-girl first, so I figured I would share the view with one of my straight friends who would appreciate it.

I sent back a wide-eyed emoji, as well as a hot emoji and a melting emoji with the words:

Me: You’re doing the Lord’s work, Mary.

Mary: Just spreading the good word.

She replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

“They’re here?” I heard Jacqueline speak, making me jump and quickly exit out of the chat thread before pocketing my device again. My heart was racing, as if I was busted, but when I glanced over at Jacqueline, she had her phone on speaker and was talking to someone.

“Yeah, she just logged in,” the voice on Jacqueline’s phone said.

“I’ll set us up.” Jacqueline nodded before ending the call, “Let’s get the show on the road.”

The brunette woman who showed up on the screen in front of our table was about my age, with a bright smile and friendly demeanor. She was surprised to see women in the interview, which made my heart break a little bit at her immediate visible relaxation.

She was friendly. The vibes were looking good with her, so I let Jacqueline ask most of the questions to determine her knowledge of the field. All her answers sounded like complete nonsense to me, which was probably a good indicator to prove that she knew the languages the company used well enough.

The next interviewee was a man, who was smaller in build and unprepared to talk to a woman in an interview. Though he seemed knowledgeable, it was his vague comment about sending the pretty girls in to scope out the candidates first that gave me the ick.

Even Jacqueline visibly frowned at him.

Next.

The third was also a man, who was friendly and said nothing weird about men or women. He was professional and spoke about coding and development and other stuff I had no knowledge of. He seemed just as qualified as the first interviewee, which…

“So, we’re going with Alice, right?” I whispered to Jacqueline after the guy logged off, even though we were the only two in the conference room.

“That’s up to Nikhil, I believe,” Jacqueline was tapping on her iPad, going over notes, when suddenly she stiffened.

“Yeah, but she’s just as qualified as what’s his face, and she’s a woman, so…” I raised my eyebrows at her expectantly, even though Jacqueline still wasn’t looking at me.

“We don’t hire anyone based on sex, gender, sexual orientation—” She started reciting her boring HR policies before I waved her off, even though she still wasn’t looking at me. She seemed frozen; her eyes glued to her iPad as she bit her lip nervously.

“What’s up?” I asked, leaning forward to glance at her iPad.

“N-nothing,” Jacqueline blinked and sat up in her seat, clearing her throat and setting her iPad down on the table, “The last interviewee is here.”

“In person? Not Zoom?” I asked, twisting around in my seat to see out the glass walls of the conference room and into the rest of the office. Sure enough, a man was waiting near my desk, talking to the intern covering for me as they pointed him in the direction of us.

I sat a little taller and waved my hand up, calling him over to let him know he was in the right place. He was far across the office, so I didn’t get a good look at him, but I sat forward in my seat again and noticed that the usually stiff Jacqueline seemed a little stiffer than usual.

“Are you okay?” I asked her, lowering my voice.

“Yeah,” Jacqueline finally turned to look at me. She lifted the corner of her lip, a smile that I didn’t buy for a second, before tapping on her iPad back to her notes on the candidates, “Just wasn’t expecting an in-person interview is all.”

I shrugged, “At least it’s the last one.”

“Mhmm.” Jacqueline hummed non-committedly right when a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in!” I twisted around in my chair and stood, walking towards the door right when the last interviewee opened it to enter the conference room.

Holy fucking hell this man was good-looking.

I blinked, pasting what I hoped was a professional smile on my face as my eyes did the quickest scan of his body I had ever done. I lied to myself and said it was to catalog his attire to make sure it was professional enough for an interview, but again, I’m pretty sure that I was just a pervert.

He had a tall and lean build, reminding me of a runner. His dark, almost black, hair was styled in that messy, relaxed way I never really understood but loved at the same time. He wore a leather jacket that looked broken in, but not cracked or damaged. Underneath it was a light grey button-down shirt, and his black trousers were form-fitting. On his feet were the type of sneakers that could either be dress shoes or casual wear. He was pale, like me, and his icy blue eyes pierced my soul as one corner of his pink lips tipped up in a grin. He took the hand that I held out to him to shake.

“Hi, I’m Signe,” I started introductions, noting the scrape of his calloused fingertips against my hand.

“I’m Leo,” He replied in a deep voice, making excitement light up inside me because this motherfucker had an accent .

“As in Leonardo?” I asked, enthusiasm evident on my face as we dropped hands, and I stepped back for Jacqueline to introduce herself.

“I’m not named after Da Vinci if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s just Leo,” He replied with a grin that told me he had gotten grief for his name his entire life.

Also, this man was British .

“You and I both know I was thinking the Ninja Turtles, but okay,” I looked to my side where Jacqueline had finally stood, and gestured to her as she held her hand out for him to shake, “This is our head of HR, Jacqueline. We’re going to be interviewing you today.”

Leo’s eyes danced over to Jacqueline and narrowed the slightest fraction. I barely caught the movement before he smiled almost devilishly and held his hand out to her.

“Nice to meet you,” Leo muttered before his lips pressed themselves together as if fighting a laugh.

“You as well,” Jacqueline quickly ripped her hand out from his and turned on her heel back to her seat, “Let’s get started.”

Um. Okay.

I smiled at Leo, worried her cold attitude would throw him off, but his eyes stayed on Jacqueline as he rounded the conference table to take his seat across from us. He even opened his messenger bag and pulled out his own laptop before resting his elbows on the chair he sat in and grinned good-naturedly.

This was a man of confidence, though we would wait to see if it was false or not.

“So,” Jacqueline cleared her throat again, and I did a double take when I realized that she was blushing. I fought my own smile, noting that Jacqueline could get rattled by an attractive man just like any other warm-blooded woman. It was good to know.

“So,” Leo repeated, leaning forward on his seat, and resting his elbows on the table now, his hands folding over themselves as he made direct eye contact with the both of us. Jacqueline’s eyes widened a little at the movement, and it took her a few moments to finally start the interview.

* * *

“So, how did my cousin do during his interview?” Mary asked me at the beginning of the following week. I was in the break room with Jamie, getting our coffee when Mary waltzed right in and skipped any pleasantries.

“Wait,” I blinked at her, “Who is your cousin?”

“Leo,” Mary shrugged past us, grabbing a mug of her own and filling it up as she continued, “Leo Turner.”

“That man was your cousin?” I gasped, setting my coffee down so I could brace my hands on the edge of the countertop accordingly. I needed to properly display my shock.

“He currently is my cousin.” Mary replied with a smirk, “How did he do with the interview?”

“Mary. He’s so attractive.” I placed a palm on my chest to emphasize what his face did to my loins.

Mary grimaced in response, “No he’s not.”

“I’m going to need you to trust me on this one,” I nodded enthusiastically, “Your cousin is hot.”

“Really?” Jamie asked, her eyes widening in curiosity.

“No,” Mary snapped, a smirk on her lips as she shook her head, “He’s not.”

“Alright,” I waved my hand over in a cough-it-up motion, “Show us a picture—a good one.” Mary sighed in annoyance before pulling her phone out and scrolling a bit, and finally, we both huddled around her to see the social media account she had pulled up.

Dear god, the man was on a motorcycle.

“Oh,” Jamie sighed, narrowing her eyes and leaning in.

“What does that mean?” Mary asked, her dark eyes fixated on Jamie’s face.

“Well,” Jamie shrugged, “He isn’t hideous.”

Mary’s eyes widened at Jamie’s words, making her look closer at her cousin’s picture and zoom in, “…Is it the hair?” Mary asked, curiosity genuinely coating her question.

“And face,” Jamie and I both replied at the same time, making Jamie giggle.

“The accent isn’t horrible to listen to either,” I shrugged, “Though I prefer my partners to be a little…sturdier.”

“Sturdier?” Mary asked, frowning at the picture of her cousin, and pocketing the device, making Jamie’s pink lips frown a little in disappointment.

“Yeah, or like…bigger?” I shrugged, “While men like your cousin are very nice to look at, when it comes down to it, I prefer to be tossed around a little.”

Mary snickered while Jamie’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Anyways!” I retrieved my mug from the countertop, lifting it in farewell as I stepped backward towards the exit of the break room, “It’s a real bummer because I don’t think Nikhil is going to hire—”

I smacked into someone behind me, a low grunt making my heart skip a beat as I struggled to regain my footing right as my coffee mug tipped towards me and spilled its contents right down the front of my dress.

“Frick!” I gasped from the pain of the hot coffee seeping through the clothing and burning my skin, while also turning around to an open-mouthed and wide-eyed Zaid.

“I apologize,” Zaid immediately spoke, “Are you—”

“I’m fine!” I waved him off, embarrassment burning my cheeks as I set the mug back down on the counter and tugged the material of my dress away from my red skin, because fuck me for changing things up and wearing a dress to work for the first time in months. I had a feeling that if I wore my tried-and-true jeans and sweatshirt combo, this wouldn’t have happened.

Additionally, would it really be so hard for Zaid to make some type of noise when he walked? Or for him to enter a room at a time when I wasn’t inappropriately running my mouth?

“Are you burned?” Zaid asked, stepping further into the break room, ripping paper towels off of the roll to hand to me.

I glanced over at Mary and Jamie, who both stood there with their mugs in hand and staring wide-eyed at the spectacle before them. I grabbed the handful of paper towels from Zaid, hopelessly dabbing away at my cream-colored dress. I found myself jutting my bottom lip out in disappointment because this one was one of my favorites, and the stain was probably going to stick around.

“I’m so sorry about that,” I glanced up from my dabbing to see Zaid raking his hand through his hair in stress, his eyes on my chest. He was staring at the coffee stain, but my body reacted as if he was taking his fill.

Because I was hopeless for this man.

Ever since Mary had sent me that picture of him shirtless and poolside, I couldn’t get the image out of my head. It was like my brain had this override feature where whenever Zaid walked by my desk and gave me a shy smile in passing, my inner ho would scream remember what his happy trail looked like ? And I’d become immediately flustered.

It was a problem, for a multitude of reasons.

Mostly because he didn’t exactly consent to Mary sending me a shirtless picture of himself. Also, he didn’t exactly consent to me writing about a guy who was the spitting image of him in my open-door romance novel.

I was disturbingly good at secretly crossing over some obvious boundaries when it came to Zaid Ansara.

In the couple of weeks after the horror that was my first livestream, I was still getting the occasional message or comment from readers asking who Zaid was, and if he was the real-life version of Zayne. It had been relatively easy to delete those comments from my posts without response, or to respond to direct messages with some sort of bull like, “Zayne is a fictional character who was made up in my big fat brain.”

Unfortunately, I had a feeling that I needed to make a more formal approach to get my readers to drop it, especially if my plan really was to continue with my publishing plans. I didn’t want to keep having a jump scare every time someone DM’d me about the CTO, and readers needed to not feel so comfortable prying into my—and also Zaid’s—personal lives.

Maybe doing another livestream (in the safety of my apartment, and nowhere else) to talk about where I am in the publishing process would help move their attention elsewhere.

“Don’t worry about it,” I waved him off with my handful of damp towels, “It’s my fault for not paying attention.” Zaid frowned a little, his brows scrunching behind the black frame of his glasses as he met my gaze.

…Were his ears pink? Was he blushing ?

Oh, dear lord, maybe he was staring at more than the coffee stain before catching himself.

“Do you have anything else you can wear today?” Zaid asked, rubbing the side of his neck nervously before handing me more paper towels. I tossed the soiled ones before reaching for his, my fingers brushing against his hand accidentally, but also not so accidentally, if you get my drift.

His dark eyes met mine in the briefest of glances before he cleared his throat and looked over at our co-workers watching us fumble through this social interaction.

“I don’t, I guess I’ll just smell like coffee today.” I glanced behind me at Mary and Jamie, and I realized I was truly stuck with this. I was curvy, one of the larger women in the office. Even if the women in the room did have extra clothes, I wouldn’t fit in them.

“I have gym clothes if you need them,” Zaid shrugged.

Mary and Jamie weren’t moving, but all three of us froze for a moment at our CTO’s all-too-casual offer. He held a hand out after his question, his eyes flicking down to my chest before I handed him the newly soiled paper towels that he tossed in the bin for me.

“Gym clothes?” I asked, unsure if I heard or understood him correctly.

“Yeah,” his eyes widened as they met mine, “They’re not used or smelly. They’re freshly washed. I was going to go to the gym after work.” He shrugged a little, before rubbing his neck again, “I really am sorry about your dress.”

“Oh, um,” I shook my head once, “It’s fine. I appreciate the offer, and your gym clothes probably are comfier, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“No,” Zaid shook his head once, standing a little taller before he took a step towards the doorway, “I’ll go grab them for you. You shouldn’t have to wear wet clothes in the office all day.” And then Zaid turned on his heel and was gone without another word.

The three of us stood in silence before I slowly turned around to face my friends with an expression of disbelief on my face.

“Are you really going to wear Zaid’s clothes all day today?” Mary asked with a raised eyebrow and a casual sip of her coffee mug. Jamie’s mouth curved in a small smile at her question before taking a sip of her own.

“I think so?” I asked, blinking, “Am I allowed to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Mary asked with confusion in her expression.

“I don’t know. Is that normal? What is the office etiquette for this situation?”

“Probably not to spill your coffee down the front of your dress in the first place, if I had to guess,” Mary shrugged, “Nice bra by the way.”

My jaw dropped before glancing down and yup, my white bra with red polka dots covering the cups was now officially visible, my dress now see-through even with the darker coffee stain wetting the material.

Oh, this is why Zaid insisted on me changing, and probably why his eyes kept dropping to my chest earlier.

“Oh god!” I wheezed, immediately cupping my breasts in shock.

That was also the moment Zaid decided to walk back into the break room with a stack of folded clothing, freezing the moment his eyes landed on where my hands were eagerly grabbing the ladies. Jesus fucking Christ, did he have some weird sixth sense about Sun Steer employees behaving inappropriately in the break room, that made the man come running ?

“Thank you for the clothes,” I spoke up attempting to distract the room from my hand placement. I casually released my grip on myself while trying to slide my arms over my chest, going for a more casual crossed-arms look instead of a self-groping one.

“It’s no problem,” Zaid cleared his throat again and lifted his hands to give me the clothing, before glancing at my crossed arms and deciding to set the stack on the breakroom table instead, “Hopefully they’re comfortable enough.”

And that, my friends, is how I ended up spending the day wearing basketball shorts and a slightly baggy t-shirt throughout the day. Mary teased me with a wiggle of her eyebrows every time she passed my desk, whereas Jamie simply grinned like she was in on a secret. An hour or two later, Jacqueline approached me at the desk to ask for my help with paperwork while she started the onboarding process for Alice, the newest software engineer.

But when she saw my all too casual getup, she paused in her stride and raised a dark eyebrow at me in question.

“It’s fine,” I casually waved my hands, “I spilled coffee on my work-appropriate clothes.” Jacqueline nodded her head slowly, and I could see her struggling to determine if this was a problem for her or not. With a small shake of her head, she decided to move past the weirdness of my appearance and gave me instructions on what she needed help with. I gave her a thumbs up and a wide grin because I was determined to befriend Jacqueline in some way.

Zaid eventually came over to check in on me, and I found myself blushing uncontrollably because there was another detail to this situation that made me feel embarrassed, in addition to my list of secrets about him.

His clothes smelled amazing . I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I guessed that he wore some type of expensive cologne or aftershave, because I swore on my life that no men’s body wash or shampoo gave off this delicious of a smell. I was melting in my seat from it, and I found myself tugging the collar of his shirt up towards my nose randomly throughout the day to take a shameful whiff.

I was intoxicated. No smell had ever made me this aroused before. I partially wondered if it was some type of pheromone cologne that I saw advertised on my social media all the time. It wouldn’t have surprised me, based on the visceral reaction my body had while being wrapped up in Zaid’s scent throughout the entirety of the workday.

And when he came to check on me to make sure that the clothes were comfy enough? I melted on the inside.

“You’re too nice,” I grinned up at him from my seat, “You gave me the shirt off your back.”

Zaid’s lips turned up in the corners the slightest bit as he shook his head, “More accurately, I gave you the shirt out of my gym bag.”

“You have a whole gym bag?” I raised my eyebrows, settling in with my elbows on the counter just to see how long I could keep a conversation with him going, “Like, a whole bag? You don’t just show up already wearing gym clothes and call it?”

Zaid shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and leaning a hip against the higher ledge of my desk, “Not when I go straight to the gym after work, or if I go to the gym before coming into work.”

“I am very unfamiliar with gym culture, I must admit,” I said, shrugging one shoulder, “I go like once a year for the free week-long trial, and then decide walking around the beach is just as sufficient. And cheaper.” One of those week-long trials was when I met Eloise, she was teaching a fun group cardio class. Even though I immediately bailed on the class, we still became fast friends.

“Exercise is exercise,” Zaid shrugged again, “I need the formality of the gym, I think.” His dark brows scrunched a little bit as he stared over my shoulder as if thinking about his answer a bit more, “It’s nice having a routine I can do every time I go.”

Oh my god, another fun fact about Zaid.

I was slowly becoming obsessed with him, and the little nuggets of personal information he would give me. I already felt like I won the lottery meeting his sister and adorable nephew a while back, but that didn’t satiate my never-ending curiosity for this gorgeous man. I could feel my face lighting up with excitement from this conversation and tried so, so hard to school my expression so I didn’t scare him off.

“What exactly constitutes a gym routine? Does it involve whatever else you take in your bag?” I sounded playful, but hopefully not sarcastic or patronizing. I could see Zaid lower his eyebrows a little at my expression, his lips quirking to the side as if he were onto me. Like he was waiting for me to tease him about something.

“It does, because hygiene is important, Signe,” the way he lowered his head, as well as his voice, made my pulse jump in my veins, “I bring my own rags, lifting belt, and a change of socks and shoes. So that I don’t bring in outside dirt and debris onto all the gym equipment and mats.”

“Rags?” I asked, “For what?”

“My sweat,” Zaid’s eyebrow quirked the slightest bit, his dark eyes holding mine hostage as he let that hang between us. Exercise usually involved sweating, it wasn’t an unusual thing to say.

But I immediately pictured him shirtless, like the image Mary sent me of him poolside, wiping his damp skin with a towel after benching or running or whatever it is men do at the gym. My mouth went dry a little bit, my cheeks heating as I made direct eye contact with upper management while simultaneously picturing him sweating in the most unprofessional context ever.

“Oh,” was all I could say before I pasted a friendly smile back on my face, hopefully masking the horny thoughts I was desperately trying to shove into the back of my brain, “Duh.” Zaid huffed a whisper of a laugh at that, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his smile accompanied the sound.

“But the clothes are comfortable?” Zaid asked, the subject change making me hesitate for half a second before I nodded my head enthusiastically.

“This is the comfiest I have ever been at the office,” I grinned, but then I grabbed the edge of my desk and leaned forward, before checking over my shoulder and down either side of the hallway dramatically, “But unfortunately I have to ask you an uncomfortable question.”

Zaid’s brows pinched together the slightest bit, “You do?” oh my god, was that genuine concern on his face? I nodded my head solemnly as he leaned towards me, also glancing down the hall that I had just checked and matching my vibe completely. I almost felt bad for being theatrical about this, but it was also how I masked my own embarrassment over the question I just had to ask him.

“I do,” I lifted a hand to my mouth as if I was going to whisper a secret to him, “What cologne do you wear, and where can I find some for myself?”

Zaid blinked, his eyes widening a fraction before the tips of his ears turned the slightest shade of red.

I loved it way too much when this man blushed.

“My cologne?” Zaid asked, confusion evident as he kept his hunched posture and leaned closer toward me.

“Yeah,” I gently tugged at the collar of his t-shirt as if I needed to show him what I meant, “Your clothes smell amazing. I promise I’m not trying to be a creep, but I can’t even focus on my reports for Jacqueline because I’m desperately trying to google what I’m smelling so I can buy it.”

“You want to buy my cologne,” Zaid’s head tilted slightly as he rested his forearms on the higher ledge, encroaching on my space in a way that made my gaze immediately land on his mouth.

Oh god. I was staring at his lips. Making it very obvious what I thought about our proximity. I quickly averted my gaze and made direct eye contact as I desperately tried to continue the conversation so that he wouldn’t pick up on my inappropriate brain, “Yeah. What am I smelling? Where do I get it? I want to wash my bedsheets in this stuff and snuggle in.”

Whoops, too far, Signe . Based on how Zaid’s lips parted after that particular comment, I realized there was no real innocent way to interpret that statement. Hopefully, he didn’t think I was putting the moves on him. As much as I would love to do that, he was still upper management.

…But I was still telling the CTO that I wanted to sleep in his scent.

There was nothing appropriate about that.

Thankfully, Zaid being the sweet and chill guy that he was, let that comment pass, “I can send you the link. My sister gifted it to me a few years ago, and I have been ordering it for myself ever since.” He lifted a shoulder as he stood to his full height, his eyes doing another glance over my casual work attire before he pulled out his buzzing phone from his pocket.

His lips turned down in a way that made me want to bite his bottom lip and tug, and I fought the urge to slap myself across the face to pull myself together.

“This is Zaid,” he nodded his head at me with a quick smile before walking down the hallway, taking an important phone call, and abruptly ending our conversation that my libido was desperate to turn into more.

I sighed in both relief and disappointment from our ended conversation, before pinching my thigh and giving my woman parts a stern mental talking to. Jacqueline’s reports needed to get done, and swooning over any word or movement from Zaid Ansara should not be my priority.