He’s probably as relieved I left as I am.

I lay awake all night, trying to figure out what I’m going to say when I call in sick at work tomorrow.

Chapter One

Late Spring

I love my job. I love my job.  God, sometimes, I hate my job.  I read the terse email from my boss, Nathan McKenna once again and swallow hard.

Friday, April 26, 2013 13:56

From: Nathan McKenna

To: Julianne Montgomery

Subject:  Working Late

Julianne,

I need you to work late with me tonight, possibly into the weekend.  Please gather all the files on the Radcliffe account and meet me in my office at 6:00 pm.

Nate

Damn it!  For eight long months I’ve managed to steer clear of my boss, and I know I’ve been incredibly lucky that I haven’t had to work alone with him after-hours, but we recently lost the other junior partner in our department, and that leaves just me and Nate.

Large, beastly butterflies have taken up residence in my stomach.

Since that one night last summer, Nate and I have maintained a level of professionalism that I’m very proud of, despite the fact that whenever I see him I feel a pull of electricity that makes my thighs clench.  I did invite him to double-date with Nat and I on the night of one of Nat’s husband, Luke’s movie premieres, but I managed to keep that night completely platonic.

It almost killed me.

Since then, it’s been for the greater good of keeping a job that I enjoy that I steer clear of Mr. Sex-on-legs.

Not that he’s been clamoring to get me back into bed.  The morning after The Best Sex In The History of Mankind, after I snuck out of his bed, he had been pissed.  He’d called and texted, wanting to know what the hell happened, and I’d avoided him like the plague for a good two weeks, telecommuting from home and taking vacation time.

Then, he just stopped.  All personal communication halted, and when we are together during business hours, he is the epitome of cool professionalism.

There are days that it pisses me the hell off.

And now, because the moron who had been in our department couldn’t take the demanding schedule of our job quit, I have to work alone with Nate.

Fuck.

I sit back in my chair and look at the time.  Five thirty.  I pull my glasses off and toss them on my desk and hang my head in my hands.  So much for spending the weekend with a pint of ice cream and a good book.

I can do this.  Pull it together, Montgomery.  I’ve posed naked in magazines.  I’ve had dinner with gazillionares and hung out with movie stars.  I have four older brothers who tease me incessantly, and taught me how to kick ass.

I can handle the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life for a few hours without ripping my clothes off and having my wicked way with him.

I think.

Probably.

I pull myself together, check that all my calls and emails are set to forward to my iPhone, and go to the bathroom to prepare myself for this evening.

I’m happy with what I see in the mirror.  My long light blonde hair is still holding the loose curls I rolled into it this morning.  My makeup is subtle and professional, setting off my blue eyes.  I smooth on a fresh coat of nude lip gloss, straighten my simple cranberry-colored dress and skim my eyes over my slender figure.  I was blessed with excellent genetics.  I’m not as sexily curved as Natalie, but I was blessed with decent boobs, a perky ass, and a figure that got me onto the pages of Playboy magazine.  Three times.  I work out hard to maintain my shape.

Content with my reflection, I walk briskly in my black Louboutins to my office, gather the files Nate requested along with my phone and walk down the corridor to his office.  His personal assistant, Mrs. Glover, is sitting at her desk.  She’s an older woman with grey hair and shrewd brown eyes.  Her smile is deceiving.  She scares the hell out of me with her sharp efficiency and her crazy ability to anticipate Nate’s every move.

“Hello, Ms. Montgomery, you can go on in.”

“Thank you.” I nod at her and smile and head for his office, knocking twice and then opening the door.

“Come in, Julianne.  Thanks for staying.”  Nate looks up from his computer and nods, his face completely blank.

“Sure.”  Nate’s office is vast, with large-scale, dark office furniture.  The chairs sitting in front of his desk are plush, black leather.  There are shelves from the floor to ceiling with hundreds of books and files, meticulously in order, no doubt by the efficient Mrs. Glover.  Behind his desk are large windows with a view of the Space Needle and the Sound.

It’s beautiful.

I’m not sure Nate even pays attention to it.

I perch at the edge of one of the black chairs and set the files on Nate’s desk, expecting him to get right to the point.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Um… fine, thank you.”  What the hell?

“I’m sorry about the short notice.”  He leans forward and braces his elbows on his desk, lacing his fingers, and keeps steady eye-contact.  God, those gray eyes are distracting.  Almost as distracting as his hands, and the delicious way he…

Enough.

“It’s part of the job.”  I open a file and try to pretend that my cheeks aren’t flushed.  “So, what’s up with this account?”

“How are Natalie and Luke?”

“They’re fine.”  I sit back in the chair now and eye him speculatively.  Why are we having a personal conversation? “Natalie is due in just a few weeks.”