I smile and pull my hand through my ponytail. “That’s okay. Come and see me later, though, won’t you?”
His eyes light up. “Okay, it’s a deal.”
I walk back to my desk and take a seat with our three coffees, and I open my emails and get to work. Jameson called me six times last night, and I don’t know why.
I’m not sure if he wanted to apologize or fight . . . but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of answering his call so he can do either.
I’m going to have a good day, and I’m not going to think about Jameson Miles once.
It’s three o’clock, and Operation Flirty Office Slut is in full swing. I’ve smiled and laughed with every loser in the building today. I’m not sure if he’s even watching, but I’m about to up the ante. I’m on my way up to see Tristan about the story I wrote.
The elevator doors open, and I smile sweetly at the receptionist.
“Hello, I’m here to see Tristan.”
“Sure, just a moment.” She frowns as she tries to remember my name.
“It’s Emily Foster.”
“That’s right. I’m sorry.” She calls through. “Tristan, I have Emily Foster here to see you.”
“Okay, send her in,” he replies happily.
“Just go through to the main conference room, but instead of turning left to go to Jameson’s office, turn right, and go down the corridor on the other side of the building.”
“Thank you.” I follow her directions and head down to the other end of the building. I frown; there are four office doors. I hesitate. Which door did she say?
I walk down the corridor, and a door is open. I see Jameson is in there, talking to a man. “Sorry to bother you. Is Tristan’s office down here?” I ask.
Jameson’s face falls as he sees me.
“Next door,” the other man replies.
I smile sweetly. “Thank you.” I head over and knock on Tristan’s door.
“Come in,” he calls, and I walk in and close the door behind me.
“Hello.” I smile.
“Hi, Emily.” He smiles warmly as he gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Please take a seat.”
As I sit down, I come to the realization that Tristan doesn’t make me nervous at all; I wish his brother didn’t.
“I just was wondering if you had time to look at the story I wrote?”
“I did, yes, and I loved it. Were you happy with it?”
“Yeah, I think it was better. I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do with it next.”
He frowns. “We’ll need to submit it as if it has come to you. Did you talk to Jameson?”
“Umm.”
The office door opens, and Jameson marches in. “Hello.”
“Speak of the devil.” Tristan smiles.
“Hello,” I reply as I turn my attention back to Tristan. It’s hard not to stare at Jameson when he’s in a room; he overtakes any space.
This playing hard to get is harder to do than it looks.
“Emily is here to talk about the story she wrote.”
“I see.” He stares at me, and I feel the magnetic pull to him as it begins to surround me.
“Was it okay?” I ask.
“It was.” His eyes hold mine. “It was very good.”
“Are we just going to submit it now as if it has come to her as news?” Tristan asks.
Jameson’s eyes stay fixed on mine. “Yes, I think so.”
My eyes flick between the two men. “Okay. I’ll submit it and let you know what happens.”
Jameson’s eyes hold mine. “I have something I need you to add with it. It’s on my computer. Come with me, and I’ll get it now.”
My nerves tingle. “Okay,” I reply as I stand.
Jameson holds his hand out. “Ladies first.”
I turn to Tristan. “Thank you. See you later.”
Tristan smiles broadly. “Goodbye. Have a nice afternoon.”
I walk to Jameson’s office, and I can feel the heat of his stare on my behind.
Just play it cool . . . no flirting . . . no touching. Just play it cool.
I am here to prick tease the bastard . . . nothing more and nothing less. We get to his office, and he opens the door. I walk past him, and then he closes it and flicks the lock.
I turn to him as he steps toward me in slow motion. His face comes to within an inch of mine.
Our eyes search each other’s, and without a word said, he grabs my ponytail and wraps it around his hand and pulls my head back to his face.