When my gaze comes up, it’s to meet a sardonic smile that reveals two shallow dimples and sherry brown eyes that are crinkled, as if he smiles a lot.
I bet it’s usually at other people’s expense.
“I’m Gregory Lucas. I have a meeting with Jordan, or at least I had a meeting with Jordan. He doesn’t seem to be around.”
Gregory Lucas? As in the Gregory Lucas, shipping mogul and number three on the Forbes richest men list? God, now I know why Lucy had been having a meltdown just at the sight of him.
He really is fine with a major, huge, gigantic F.
Unfortunately I am now going to be working closely with him, so fine or not, it’s hands off.
“Are you sure? I don’t remember scheduling anything for today,” I say, setting my cup down to scan today’s appointments. If this man had an appointment I’d know it.
“Trust me, I have one. We agreed to get together when I ran into him yesterday. He must have forgotten.”
I see him frown, and cringe inwardly. It makes a terrible impression that Farns has forgotten a meeting with such a huge client, especially if the client has only just signed on.
“I am so sorry, Mr Lucas. Mr Farns had a last minute meeting to attend. I’m sure he feels terrible about this. How about I reschedule for tomorrow and I’ll have him come to your offices?”
He considers me silently for endless minutes, and I can almost feel his eyes like a caress as he sweeps the knee length pencil skirt and soft pink shell I’m wearing. I look good, I know, but certainly not good enough to engender such a thorough inspection.
As pinpricks of desire tingle through every part of me his eyes touch, I know this is going to be a huge problem. I will not get in any way involved with a client or co-worker, and the fact that the man is good looking enough to make me want to, is not good. Not good at all.
My nipples bead, forcing me to hunch my shoulders, until eventually his eyes come back to my face and meet mine.
“Tell Farns to call me. Please. And next time your boss drops the ball, let him try to pick it up himself instead of making his apologies, darlin’,” he drawls seductively, and I hear a slight twang.
Oooh, Southern. Darn it. I love Southern accents.
“Yes, sir.”
There’s nothing left to say, and as I watch him stroll to the elevator and enter it I am unable to tear my eyes away from the raw strength I see in the rippling muscles beneath his three piece suit.
Goddamn.
“You have a nice day now, Miss Newman. I look forward to working with you.”
As the doors close, finally breaking the connection, I snap out of the mortifying daze I’ve been in and fall into my chair with a huff of annoyance.
How the heck am I going to work with the man and keep myself from becoming an embarrassing fool? I have enough on my plate as it is. I’m paying for Nana’s nursing home fees, my sister is on the brink of losing her bakery, a lifelong dream that hasn’t been as successful as hoped, and my boss is a slave driver.
No, I do not need this kind of distraction in my well-ordered life, and as far as I’m concerned Gregory Lucas is more than hot. He’s trouble with a capital T.
For the rest of the day I work until nothing but a few copy orders and a message are left in my inbox. Five rolls around, and by the time I shut my computer down and grab my purse I am starving, grumpy, and in no mood to be bothered.
Unfortunately my boss has no concept of time, and he strolls in just as I’m about to leave, his light blue golf shirt sweaty and wrinkled.
“You missed a meeting with Mr Lucas this afternoon.”
“Shit! I totally spaced on that. Did you cover for me?”
It’s not exactly a lie when I nod. Jordan does not need to know that Gregory Lucas fell for my excuses about as easily as a fish walks on land, so I keep my mouth shut and spare myself a tantrum.
“He wants you to call him tomorrow for a reschedule.”
I turn to leave, wanting enough time to go home and grab a quick shower and change of clothes before I have to make the hour long drive to Gable Jones, the nursing home where my grandmother currently resides.
“I’ll need everything you have on Lucas Ships on my desk first thing tomorrow,” Jordan barks, slamming into his office without so much as a please.
“But—”
Oh, save it, I tell myself, dropping my purse back into the drawer and firing my computer back to life. There’s no way I’ll have everything ready that early and the idiot knows it.
I call the nursing home as I start pulling up files, and the director answers on the fourth ring.
“Miss Newman, we really have to talk about your grandmother’s conduct. She’s been sneaking into our male residents’ rooms again, and you know it’s against policy.”