The Virgin Intern(3)

“That’s good to know,” I say, trying to hide my real relief. “It’s my first day, and I was about to fail my first assignment because of that copier.”

“That explains why I’ve never seen you before.”

“Yes it does.”

“Well,” he says, “if that one ever gives you trouble again, you can use the one on my floor. I’m downstairs on eleven.”

I look at him, and he doesn’t seem to be kidding. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you.”

“No problem. We’ve all had first days. I could tell you some stories that would make this one look tame.”

“Oh?” Please tell me something that makes me feel better.

He grins, “Let’s keep that for after your first day is over so we can fully compare.”

“I’d like that,” I say. I smooth my skirt, trying not to look awkward.

“I’ll see you around.” He nods and starts to turn away.

“Don’t you want this back?” I hold out his handkerchief.

He’s grinning again. “It’s easier for you to explain that you borrowed it than it is for me to explain that it got wet by cleaning your breasts.”

My mouth drops open, and my brain short circuits on the image of him cleaning my breasts.

“I’m all out of handkerchiefs, but if you find toner anywhere else,” his eyes roll down the length of my body, “I’m sure that I can find something else to clean you with.”

The little smile on his face tells me he’s not talking about a towel. My whole body heats and I feel like the room is now a sauna. I’ve never had a man look at me like that before—like he’s ready and willing to take me right there. I know I should probably feel offended.

I don’t.

It feels…hot.

He’s holding my gaze, and I can’t move. It’s almost like he knows that he’s making me squirm and he enjoys it. Of course now is the time when my brain absolutely refuses to come up with any witty comebacks. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmur.

If lightning could strike me dead, that would be great. The most attractive man you’ve ever seen is hitting on you, and you’ll keep it in mind?

“Believe me, I will too.”

I think I might actually be on fire, and I start babbling to keep my mouth from dropping to the floor and to keep from thinking about the fact that he’ll be thinking about me. “Thank you again for offering your copier. And thank you for touching me. I mean, cleaning me off. No. I mean—”

Just then the door opens, and I nearly jump out of my skin. It’s my uncle, bursting in with his usual sharpness. “There you are,” he says to me, sounding annoyed. “I need this added to the files for the meeting.” He hands me another stack of paper, and I manage to hide the handkerchief in my hand. I don’t want him asking questions about it. I catch sight of my attractive rescuer’s face, and he looks like he’s about to burst out laughing. Probably at me. I flush red again.

“Sure.” I turn and add the stack to the copier’s queue. I take the opportunity to breathe, and maybe make it look like I just wasn’t blatantly flirting with someone at the firm.

“Andrew,” my uncle says, “What are you doing in here?”

“Just visiting the water cooler,” he replies. Andrew. His name is Andrew. Good to know, even though I now feel like an idiot for not asking. He asked my name.

“And I see you’ve met my niece.”

I give a tight-lipped smile. Andrew also smiles. “Yes, I did. She is lovely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in the meeting.”

Andrew gives me a final glance—that totally steals my breath away—and leaves. I go back to my stapling, desperately hoping that my uncle won’t see the residual embarrassment—or toner—hanging off me.

“Naomi.”

“Yes?”

“That’s Andrew Finch.”

In my head, everything clicks. My uncle has been going on and on about a senior partner named Finch whom he can’t stand. In Uncle Roger’s words, the partner is an upstart who’s angling to take over the firm and always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I always liked the sound of anyone who could ruffle my uncle’s feathers. Now I can see it’s not just that he’s an upstart, it’s that he’s young and handsome and already very successful at his job.

“You’re going to be seeing a lot of him,” my uncle goes on, “because he and I are working the Sterling murder case together, even if I don’t like it.”

I shuffle several more papers together and clear my throat. “Why put him on the case if you dislike him so much?”