Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
Stacey straightens up, and I step forward when she extends her hand to me. My much larger one engulfs hers. With just one touch of her soft skin, I am done. I know this woman is going to be mine.
"Ms. Lipton. It's a pleasure to meet you," I say, my voice thick. Her whole body shivers at my words. I watch her delicate throat work as she swallows.
"Please call me Stacey." I nod and reluctantly let go of her hand, stepping back.
"I'll let you two get to work. Darius, let me know if you need anything."
"Bye, Jason. I'm going out tonight with Franny, so I'll be home late."
"Oh? Where are you guys going? I might stop by."
"Flames," she says, sitting back down. Flames is a dive bar downtown. It's full of criminals and watered-down booze. It's no place for a lady like her.
"What ti-?" Jason starts, but she cuts him off.
"Seven-thirty." He nods and leaves the room.
She looks up at me. "Franny just started here a few days ago, you know?" She pauses, waiting for my response. When I shake my head, she continues. "We met her in the cafe on her first day. I don't know why he just doesn't admit that he's in love with her… Sorry. I talk a lot, and I'm sure you don't want to hear about that."
"Nonsense. You talk, I listen. That's the job, right?"
"You're not my shrink. Have you ever been an assistant or worked in an office?"
"Of course. Why do you ask, ma'am?"
"Well, for starters, most assistants don't wear… um...muscly tee shirts like that," she says. When she licks her pouty lips, I almost jump over her desk to get at her. Almost. I have a job to do, but there's no harm in planting the seeds that she's mine.
"What should I be wearing, Ms. Lipton?" She rolls her dark eyes.
"Stacey. My name is Stacey, and I don't know. A suit or at least something professional."
"Duly noted," I reply. If she wants a sharp dressed man, she'll get one. She clears her throat and picks up her coffee cup, holding it out to me.
"Will you get me a coffee, please. Two sugars, lots of cream. The break room is about halfway down the hall. If you can't find it, I'm sure Mrs. Garry will help you." When I take the cup from her, her fingers graze mine and linger.
"One hot coffee, coming right up," I say, putting some much-needed distance between us.
There's no way I will be able to keep this up for as long as it takes to catch who’s messing with my woman.
Two
Stacey Lipton
Something is up with Darius and my brother. I’m just not sure what yet. The man does not belong in an office, and that lie he told about having experience as an assistant, was just that. The truth is having him around won’t be a hardship if I get to stare at him all day. The man is very muscular, and it's obvious he must spend hours in the gym each day. I’m dying to run my fingers through his dark brown hair and move it out of his eyes so I can see them better. But then I won’t get any work done. Now that I think about it, this is probably the worst freaking plan ever. I sigh and get back to the project I’m working on.
A few minutes later, Darius comes back into my office and places my coffee down on my desk. “Here’s your coffee, Stacey.”
I look at it and smile. It looks like he made it right. “Thank you, Darius.” I take a sip and wince at how sweet it is.
“Too much sugar?”
I set the coffee down and pinch my thumb and pointer fingers together. “Maybe just a smidge. Just two sugars, not ten.” I laugh.
He grabs the coffee and leaves again without saying a word, and I go back to what I was doing before he walked in.
When he returns this time, the coffee is just right. He doesn’t seem like an idiot, so I wonder how he managed to screw up my coffee order in the first place. We work in relative silence for the remainder of the day after I hand him a printed list of everything I need to be done.
The ladies on this floor pass by my office frequently, and I even see a few women who aren’t typically up here peeking in to get a look at my new assistant. I mean, I get it, but after a few hours, I’ve had enough and close my door to give us some peace and quiet. If Darius noticed the attention, he didn’t let on to it. Closing the door solves one problem but creates another—the vibe in my office shifts from quiet and productive to something on an entirely different level. The attraction between us is palpable, suffocating almost.