Lauren
Going back to work was supposed to be a painless transition, but when my new boss turns out to be an arrogant, cocky jerk, he quickly turns my professional life into a world of torture. Okay, fine, calling him an asshat before knowing he was my boss wasn't my finest moment. Hating him should be easy. I just never counted on him being so gorgeous or charming when he's not annoying me.
Austin
I expected my new assistant to be professional and punctual, but all I'm getting are dirty looks and rude comments. I should fire the little hellion, but instead all I can think about is bending her over my desk and breaking every rule I've ever made for myself.
One look. One touch. One night. If we break the rules, our lives will never be the same again.
Good thing rules were made to be broken. And besides, it feels so good to Tempt the Boss.
Going back to work was supposed to be a painless transition, but when my new boss turns out to be an arrogant, cocky jerk, he quickly turns my professional life into a world of torture. Okay, fine, calling him an asshat before knowing he was my boss wasn't my finest moment. Hating him should be easy. I just never counted on him being so gorgeous or charming when he's not annoying me.
Austin
I expected my new assistant to be professional and punctual, but all I'm getting are dirty looks and rude comments. I should fire the little hellion, but instead all I can think about is bending her over my desk and breaking every rule I've ever made for myself.
One look. One touch. One night. If we break the rules, our lives will never be the same again.
Good thing rules were made to be broken. And besides, it feels so good to Tempt the Boss.
Lauren
Iām singing along to Maroon Fiveās āDonāt Wanna Knowā when a call comes in. Penelopeās name flashes on the screen. Penelope is my friend from college, the only friend who I kept in touch with. She runs an HR firm that specializes in placing temps. She is the reason I have this job right now.
āHello,ā I say while I wait for her voice to fill the car.
āHey, there, just checking in. You ready?ā she asks me. I hear her rustling papers in the background, so I know she is already at her desk.
āYup, Iām on my way there now. Iām so nervous, I may puke, though. But Iāll be on time.ā I chuckle at the thought of me barfing all over my new boss. I brake for the traffic that is slowing to a crawl in front of me when I feel my van jerk forward slightly. My head flies forward and then snaps back. Looking in my mirror, I see that someone just hit me.
āOh my god. Someone just ran into me. Fuck me, P. I have to call you back,ā I say, unlocking my seatbelt and climbing out of the car.
I put my Tory Birch sunglasses on top of my head, walking to the back to see the damage. I donāt even have time to get there before I hear a raspy voice ask, āWhat the hell is wrong with you? You just stopped!ā I put a hand over my eyes to block the sun and see him. And boy, do I see him. My heart skips a beat when he whips his aviator sunglasses off his face.
Heās about six feet tall, maybe taller, with dark hair thatās short on the sides and a bit longer at the top, which almost looks like it was combed back by his hands. His eyes are a mossy green with shimmery gold flecks in them that I can see thanks to the sun hitting them just right. A freshly-shaven face that shows off the strong angles of his jaw and hints at where Iām sure a five-oāclock-shadow of delicious stubble will emerge in a few hours.
Heās wearing a suit minus the jacket. His dark blue pants are a perfect fit, molding to him like they were made especially for him, and from the looks of them, they probably were. His crisp, white dress shirt is open at the collar and covers his broad chest and thick biceps. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and show off a big, masculine silver Rolex watch.
He throws his hand up as he angrily asks, āIs something wrong with you? Are you drunk?ā
I take a step back, putting my hand to my stomach. āAre you talking to me?ā I look around wondering if there is someone else he could be talking to. āYou hit me. You. Hit. Me.ā I storm to the back of the car to assess the damage. I see that my bumper is a bit scratched, but his Porsche is going to need some body work.
āI canāt believe this. I canāt flipping believe this! Now Iām going to be late because you were probably too busy on your phone texting to pay attention to the road.ā I walk to my car, opening the door and leaning across the seat to grab my purse. Cars pass us slowly, everyone taking a look to see whatās going on.
Looking at the clock on the dash, I see that I have to be at my new job in twenty minutes. Grabbing my license, registration, and insurance ID card, I slam the door and walk over to see him leaning on the side of my car, watching me.
āIām going to be late. Is there any way we can just exchange numbers and get all the information after?ā I ask, looking through the papers.
I hear him huff. āYou probably donāt have insurance, which is why you want to call me later so you can get some while I drive around with a missing a light.ā He walks over to his car, leans down, and grabs his phone from the driverās seat.
I look at him. āSo, you werenāt on the phone? Riiighhhhttt,ā I say glaring at him.
āI donāt have all day. Some of us have actual work to do. What do you want from me?ā His tone is snarky.
āActually, I donāt want anything from you. My car has a scratch, yours is the one that is damaged. Besides, it wasnāt even my fault. Maybe we should call the police to make a report so we can get it on the record that you were driving while texting.ā I lean my head to the side. āIām not a police officer or anything, but I think thatās against the law.ā
He snarls at me, āJust give me your number.ā I tell him my number, and when he asks my name, I gladly tell him. āThe woman whose car you hit because you were texting while driving.ā He looks at me and his eyebrows pinch together. āIs that name already taken?ā I ask him, waiting for his answer. When I realize he isnāt going to reply, I ask him, āNow, whatās yours?ā He shoots off his number, and I store it in my phone.
I turn around to walk away. āArenāt you going to ask me my name?ā He puts his hands on his hips, his biceps bulging and his chest looking impossibly broader.
āNope, no need. I just put you under āAsshat who texts while driving and hit my car.āā I smile at him. āHave a fabulous day,ā I grumble, turning around and getting back in the car.
Fuck. I see that I now have ten minutes to get there. I dial Penelope right after I buckle and take off watching the asshole get into his car. āI think I might still make it,ā I tell her even before she says hello.
āItās okay. I called and told them there was an accident on the way, and they said not to worry, that Austin was going to be late, too. So, youāre still good to go. Howās the damage?ā she asks.
āMinivan: 1 ā Porsche: 0.ā I laugh and tell her Iāll check back in with her at lunch.
When I finally make it to the office building, I check my face and apply lip gloss one more time before walking inside. I look at my phone and notice that Iām only seven minutes late. Not bad all things considered. I walk in and tell the security guard I am there for Barbara at Mackenzie Jacob Associates. When he calls up, he gets the all clear to send me up.
I make my way up to the forty-sixth floor and walk to the receptionist, who is smiling from ear-to-ear. āHi. Iām here to see Barbara. My name is Lauren. Iām the temp,ā I explain as she gets up and comes around to shake my hand, introducing herself as Carmen. She then takes me back to meet Barbara.
Barbara is short with white hair, and her glasses are perched on her nose. āHey, there, Lauren. Iām so happy to finally meet you. Iāve heard great things from Penelope.ā She reaches out to shake my hand and motions for me to sit down.
āThank you so much, and Iām so sorry Iām late. I was in a little fender bender, and I tried to finish as fast as I could,ā I tell her, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk.
āHey, there, just checking in. You ready?ā she asks me. I hear her rustling papers in the background, so I know she is already at her desk.
āYup, Iām on my way there now. Iām so nervous, I may puke, though. But Iāll be on time.ā I chuckle at the thought of me barfing all over my new boss. I brake for the traffic that is slowing to a crawl in front of me when I feel my van jerk forward slightly. My head flies forward and then snaps back. Looking in my mirror, I see that someone just hit me.
āOh my god. Someone just ran into me. Fuck me, P. I have to call you back,ā I say, unlocking my seatbelt and climbing out of the car.
I put my Tory Birch sunglasses on top of my head, walking to the back to see the damage. I donāt even have time to get there before I hear a raspy voice ask, āWhat the hell is wrong with you? You just stopped!ā I put a hand over my eyes to block the sun and see him. And boy, do I see him. My heart skips a beat when he whips his aviator sunglasses off his face.
Heās about six feet tall, maybe taller, with dark hair thatās short on the sides and a bit longer at the top, which almost looks like it was combed back by his hands. His eyes are a mossy green with shimmery gold flecks in them that I can see thanks to the sun hitting them just right. A freshly-shaven face that shows off the strong angles of his jaw and hints at where Iām sure a five-oāclock-shadow of delicious stubble will emerge in a few hours.
Heās wearing a suit minus the jacket. His dark blue pants are a perfect fit, molding to him like they were made especially for him, and from the looks of them, they probably were. His crisp, white dress shirt is open at the collar and covers his broad chest and thick biceps. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and show off a big, masculine silver Rolex watch.
He throws his hand up as he angrily asks, āIs something wrong with you? Are you drunk?ā
I take a step back, putting my hand to my stomach. āAre you talking to me?ā I look around wondering if there is someone else he could be talking to. āYou hit me. You. Hit. Me.ā I storm to the back of the car to assess the damage. I see that my bumper is a bit scratched, but his Porsche is going to need some body work.
āI canāt believe this. I canāt flipping believe this! Now Iām going to be late because you were probably too busy on your phone texting to pay attention to the road.ā I walk to my car, opening the door and leaning across the seat to grab my purse. Cars pass us slowly, everyone taking a look to see whatās going on.
Looking at the clock on the dash, I see that I have to be at my new job in twenty minutes. Grabbing my license, registration, and insurance ID card, I slam the door and walk over to see him leaning on the side of my car, watching me.
āIām going to be late. Is there any way we can just exchange numbers and get all the information after?ā I ask, looking through the papers.
I hear him huff. āYou probably donāt have insurance, which is why you want to call me later so you can get some while I drive around with a missing a light.ā He walks over to his car, leans down, and grabs his phone from the driverās seat.
I look at him. āSo, you werenāt on the phone? Riiighhhhttt,ā I say glaring at him.
āI donāt have all day. Some of us have actual work to do. What do you want from me?ā His tone is snarky.
āActually, I donāt want anything from you. My car has a scratch, yours is the one that is damaged. Besides, it wasnāt even my fault. Maybe we should call the police to make a report so we can get it on the record that you were driving while texting.ā I lean my head to the side. āIām not a police officer or anything, but I think thatās against the law.ā
He snarls at me, āJust give me your number.ā I tell him my number, and when he asks my name, I gladly tell him. āThe woman whose car you hit because you were texting while driving.ā He looks at me and his eyebrows pinch together. āIs that name already taken?ā I ask him, waiting for his answer. When I realize he isnāt going to reply, I ask him, āNow, whatās yours?ā He shoots off his number, and I store it in my phone.
I turn around to walk away. āArenāt you going to ask me my name?ā He puts his hands on his hips, his biceps bulging and his chest looking impossibly broader.
āNope, no need. I just put you under āAsshat who texts while driving and hit my car.āā I smile at him. āHave a fabulous day,ā I grumble, turning around and getting back in the car.
Fuck. I see that I now have ten minutes to get there. I dial Penelope right after I buckle and take off watching the asshole get into his car. āI think I might still make it,ā I tell her even before she says hello.
āItās okay. I called and told them there was an accident on the way, and they said not to worry, that Austin was going to be late, too. So, youāre still good to go. Howās the damage?ā she asks.
āMinivan: 1 ā Porsche: 0.ā I laugh and tell her Iāll check back in with her at lunch.
When I finally make it to the office building, I check my face and apply lip gloss one more time before walking inside. I look at my phone and notice that Iām only seven minutes late. Not bad all things considered. I walk in and tell the security guard I am there for Barbara at Mackenzie Jacob Associates. When he calls up, he gets the all clear to send me up.
I make my way up to the forty-sixth floor and walk to the receptionist, who is smiling from ear-to-ear. āHi. Iām here to see Barbara. My name is Lauren. Iām the temp,ā I explain as she gets up and comes around to shake my hand, introducing herself as Carmen. She then takes me back to meet Barbara.
Barbara is short with white hair, and her glasses are perched on her nose. āHey, there, Lauren. Iām so happy to finally meet you. Iāve heard great things from Penelope.ā She reaches out to shake my hand and motions for me to sit down.
āThank you so much, and Iām so sorry Iām late. I was in a little fender bender, and I tried to finish as fast as I could,ā I tell her, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk.
āNo worries. I heard Austin was going to be about ten minutes late, but he got here right before you did. Now, if you will fill out these papers here, I will get your elevator pass ready for you,ā she says while she goes to her cabinet in the corner.
Because this is just a temp job, I donāt have to do much. Just an emergency contact form. āNow, I should warn you that this is the tenth temp we have hired for this positionā¦ this month,ā she finishes quickly.
I look at her, confused. āBut itās only the seventeenth of November.ā My heart starts racing. What if he throws me out? What if he laughs at me since I havenāt worked in ten years?
āMr. Mackenzie is, um, wellā¦ special to work for,ā she murmures while looking down at the papers in front of her and not even trying not make eye contact with me.
āSpecial? What does that mean?ā I ask, my eyebrows pinching together.
āLetās just say that my money is on you.ā She gets up. āShall we?ā She points to the door. I nod at her, trying to get some saliva going in my mouth. Itās dry, and my palms are sweating. I think my armpits are actually starting to sweat, too. Oh boy. I canāt do this. I should turn around and run away.
But before I can make my move, we reach a door that is closed. The big brown door is solid, and the windows that look out into the office have their shades drawn. I hear Barbara knock on the door before we enter.
I donāt see much in front of her. I just look around the office at the view of the city, since there are wall-to-wall windows affording it an amazing view. I donāt have a chance to look much further, because all I hear is a raspy voice asking, āAre you fucking stalking me? Did you follow me here?ā I whip my head around to look at him.
Just my luck. Itās the asshat from this morning, the one who hit me. Except now, the asshat is sitting behind the desk, the desk that apparently belongs to my new temporary boss.
Austin
Iām already having the shittiest day ever and itās only fucking eight oāclock. My alarm didnāt wake me at five a.m. like it does every day, so I didnāt have a chance to get my run in before I had to head to work.
Just a quick shower and a coffee before I hurried out. I walked out of my apartment, rushed to the elevator, and ran smack into my ex who, according to her, ājust happened to be in the area.ā
It took a lot for me not to roll my eyes at her. She wasnāt in the area; sheās fucking the dude who lives upstairs. Not that I care. I was the one who let her go. Whatever, I blew her off and headed to my car.
Right as I started up my car, my mother decided it was a great day to call and lay out everything thatās wrong with my life. Iām nearing forty; all I have is my career, blah blah blah. Newsflash, Mom, thatās all I want.
So, just when I thought it couldnāt get any worse, I hit a mini bus, or a van, or whatever the hell itās called.
I expected a frumpy housewife to get out of the car, but instead I was greeted by a woman who could only be described as sex-on-a-stick, or I guess I should say two sticks, because those legs of hers arenāt something Iāll forget anytime soon. I couldnāt even talk I was so stunned. Then she bent over her seat and presented me with the most perfect ass. I think I actually groaned.
My cock was getting ready to salute her right then and there as she walked back to me from her minivan. The thought that she was someoneās wife and I was jonesing on her made my skin crawl. I may be an asshole, but I donāt fuck with marriages or people in relationships. There are more than enough single people on earth to not get involved with someone who isnāt.
I tried to see if she was wearing a ring, but I couldnāt see anything. I took her number, and she rushed away.
The whole way to work, I replayed the scene in my head over and over again. I tried to think back on anything that I could have said that would have had her reacting so hostilely.
I got to the office just four minutes late. I absolutely loathe tardiness; people who are late drive me nuts. I built this company from the ground up. I am now the most sought-after commercial contract developer in the city, especially when it comes to entertainment establishments. If you want to open a restaurant or nightclub in this city, letās just say I am known widely as the best choice to make sure it happens.
There is never a dull moment in this business. If I have to get in there and swing a hammer or wash the damn glasses myself, I do it. There is nothing I wonāt do to protect my and my companyās reputation. If you are opening a restaurant or a nightclub and you attach it to the name Mackenzie Jacob, chances are itāll be a hit from day one.
So now, here I am walking into my office a few minutes late. The cute new receptionist, Carmen, is batting her eyes at me as I walk in, dragging out her greeting. āGood Morning, Mr. Mackenzie.ā Sheās new here, so she mustnāt have heard the news yet, but I donāt fuck where I eat. Ever.
āMorning. Is my new temp here yet?ā I ask her, getting right to the point as she hands me my messages. A new temp who is yet another thing I didnāt need today.
Since my secretary retired last month, Iāve gone through six or seven tempsā¦okay, maybe ten. But itās not all my fault. I canāt take it if theyāre stupid and I have to sit there and spell things out for them. I need someone who can take direction, get it right the first time, and just do what I ask the first time I ask it. Itās simple, really.
When I ask you to get me coffee, Iām not asking you to join me for a cup. When I tell you to scan and email something, I donāt need reporting of the task as if youāre waiting for a sticker on your paper. When you have a caller on hold, I donāt need you announcing them to me through the intercom in a singsong voice. I also donāt need you knocking on my door every few minutes to ask me if I need anything. Trust me, when I need something, youāll be the first one to know.
āCan you tell Barbara Iām in now?ā I prompt her, walking away while I pull the collar from my neck, making my way down the hall toward my corner office.
I walk into my office, taking in the view of the city. We are on the forty-sixth floor, so I can see the skyline perfectly, and at night, itās even better. I eat, sleep, and breathe my work. There arenāt set hours for my work. So, if I have to be at the office for fifteen hours a day, then thatās what it takes. Which is why I donāt need, or want, a wife at this point. Iād just let them down.
Iāve lost count of how many relationships Iāve had that have ended because I wasnāt there when I said I would be. Iām married to my work, and she is my first priority.
Sitting in my chair, I start going through the messages. I flip through them, seeing two messages from Vegas. Iām thinking of branching out and opening an office there, but something is stopping me. I like to stay local. I like to show up during construction. I like to pop in when you least expect it, and I wouldnāt be able to do that if I branched out to Vegas.
Iām about to call them back when there is a knock on the door. I donāt even have to tell them to come in before Barbara opens the door. I look over at her. Sheās been here from day one, but she isnāt what Iām looking at this morning; itās the girl behind her.
Fucking unbelievable! This crazy chick followed me to my work. She is probably coming to sue me. Iāll show her. āAre you fucking stalking me? Did you follow me here?ā I growl at her while I stand up behind my desk.
Barbaraās face pales and her mouth hangs open, but not the sassy one behind her. āFollow you? Are you insane?ā She looks at Barbara. āI canāt do this. I totally understand why youāve gone through so many temps. Who would work for him?ā She shakes her head. āNot only did he hit my carāāshe looks at meāāwhile texting. The first thing he asked was if I was drunk!ā She looks back at Barbara, who then glares at me. Great, just great, sheās on crazy chickās side. āYou would think he would ask me if Iām okay, right? Nope, not this guy. He wanted to know if I was drunk at eight a.m. Who the hell drinks at eight am anyway?ā She folds her arms under her breasts, unnecessarily pushing them up. Fuck. I canāt stop the mental image of her standing there, arms crossed under her tits, in nothing but her shoes. I shake that thought from my head.
āWait.ā I throw the messages on my desk. āYou, youāre my temp?ā
āNo, sir,ā she says, and fuck me, but does that ever make me want to hold her hands behind her back as I bend her over my desk and pound into her while she calls me sir. āI was your temp.ā She looks at Barbara. āI wish you well.ā Then she turns and starts walking out the door.
Barbaraās raised voice stops her. āWait a second!ā She looks at me. āAustin Montgomery Mackenzie, is Lauren telling me that you hit her car and then asked her if she was drunk? I raised you better than that, young man,ā she chides in that sharp tone I remember from my childhood. Okay, so Barbara was also my nanny growing up. That was to be expected when youāre the child of world-renowned doctors who jetted around the globe saving lives. One is a cardiologist, and the other is a brain surgeon. They had very little time to raise a child. So, thatās where Barbara came in, and she stayed until I was eighteen. She retired, but when I opened this firm, she was the first one I thought of to handle the HR side of the company, something I knew she would handle far better than me. āApologize right this second, Austin,ā she demands, and I scoff at her. I will not do any such thing.
āShe braked suddenly for no reason! There was no one in front of her,ā I defend myself. Barbaraās eyebrows pinch together, and she takes her glasses off so they hang on the chain around her neck. I know that if I donāt say sorry, this will just end in her quitting again. Last time, it cost me a month-long Mediterranean cruise. āFine,ā I huff out, āIām sorry I accused you of being drunk. I should have just called you what you areāa reckless, clueless female driver.ā
Lauren stands there glaring at me as Barbara yells, āI quit!ā This must shock Lauren, because she immediately goes to Barbara and strokes her back. āOh no. No, no, no. Please, really, itās fine. Itās totally okay. I accept his apology.ā She aims a glare at me. āI understand now why so many women left, heās a...ā She leans in and whispers in Barbaraās ear. I donāt know what she says, but they both snicker. Great, just great.
Because this is just a temp job, I donāt have to do much. Just an emergency contact form. āNow, I should warn you that this is the tenth temp we have hired for this positionā¦ this month,ā she finishes quickly.
I look at her, confused. āBut itās only the seventeenth of November.ā My heart starts racing. What if he throws me out? What if he laughs at me since I havenāt worked in ten years?
āMr. Mackenzie is, um, wellā¦ special to work for,ā she murmures while looking down at the papers in front of her and not even trying not make eye contact with me.
āSpecial? What does that mean?ā I ask, my eyebrows pinching together.
āLetās just say that my money is on you.ā She gets up. āShall we?ā She points to the door. I nod at her, trying to get some saliva going in my mouth. Itās dry, and my palms are sweating. I think my armpits are actually starting to sweat, too. Oh boy. I canāt do this. I should turn around and run away.
But before I can make my move, we reach a door that is closed. The big brown door is solid, and the windows that look out into the office have their shades drawn. I hear Barbara knock on the door before we enter.
I donāt see much in front of her. I just look around the office at the view of the city, since there are wall-to-wall windows affording it an amazing view. I donāt have a chance to look much further, because all I hear is a raspy voice asking, āAre you fucking stalking me? Did you follow me here?ā I whip my head around to look at him.
Just my luck. Itās the asshat from this morning, the one who hit me. Except now, the asshat is sitting behind the desk, the desk that apparently belongs to my new temporary boss.
Austin
Iām already having the shittiest day ever and itās only fucking eight oāclock. My alarm didnāt wake me at five a.m. like it does every day, so I didnāt have a chance to get my run in before I had to head to work.
Just a quick shower and a coffee before I hurried out. I walked out of my apartment, rushed to the elevator, and ran smack into my ex who, according to her, ājust happened to be in the area.ā
It took a lot for me not to roll my eyes at her. She wasnāt in the area; sheās fucking the dude who lives upstairs. Not that I care. I was the one who let her go. Whatever, I blew her off and headed to my car.
Right as I started up my car, my mother decided it was a great day to call and lay out everything thatās wrong with my life. Iām nearing forty; all I have is my career, blah blah blah. Newsflash, Mom, thatās all I want.
So, just when I thought it couldnāt get any worse, I hit a mini bus, or a van, or whatever the hell itās called.
I expected a frumpy housewife to get out of the car, but instead I was greeted by a woman who could only be described as sex-on-a-stick, or I guess I should say two sticks, because those legs of hers arenāt something Iāll forget anytime soon. I couldnāt even talk I was so stunned. Then she bent over her seat and presented me with the most perfect ass. I think I actually groaned.
My cock was getting ready to salute her right then and there as she walked back to me from her minivan. The thought that she was someoneās wife and I was jonesing on her made my skin crawl. I may be an asshole, but I donāt fuck with marriages or people in relationships. There are more than enough single people on earth to not get involved with someone who isnāt.
I tried to see if she was wearing a ring, but I couldnāt see anything. I took her number, and she rushed away.
The whole way to work, I replayed the scene in my head over and over again. I tried to think back on anything that I could have said that would have had her reacting so hostilely.
I got to the office just four minutes late. I absolutely loathe tardiness; people who are late drive me nuts. I built this company from the ground up. I am now the most sought-after commercial contract developer in the city, especially when it comes to entertainment establishments. If you want to open a restaurant or nightclub in this city, letās just say I am known widely as the best choice to make sure it happens.
There is never a dull moment in this business. If I have to get in there and swing a hammer or wash the damn glasses myself, I do it. There is nothing I wonāt do to protect my and my companyās reputation. If you are opening a restaurant or a nightclub and you attach it to the name Mackenzie Jacob, chances are itāll be a hit from day one.
So now, here I am walking into my office a few minutes late. The cute new receptionist, Carmen, is batting her eyes at me as I walk in, dragging out her greeting. āGood Morning, Mr. Mackenzie.ā Sheās new here, so she mustnāt have heard the news yet, but I donāt fuck where I eat. Ever.
āMorning. Is my new temp here yet?ā I ask her, getting right to the point as she hands me my messages. A new temp who is yet another thing I didnāt need today.
Since my secretary retired last month, Iāve gone through six or seven tempsā¦okay, maybe ten. But itās not all my fault. I canāt take it if theyāre stupid and I have to sit there and spell things out for them. I need someone who can take direction, get it right the first time, and just do what I ask the first time I ask it. Itās simple, really.
When I ask you to get me coffee, Iām not asking you to join me for a cup. When I tell you to scan and email something, I donāt need reporting of the task as if youāre waiting for a sticker on your paper. When you have a caller on hold, I donāt need you announcing them to me through the intercom in a singsong voice. I also donāt need you knocking on my door every few minutes to ask me if I need anything. Trust me, when I need something, youāll be the first one to know.
āCan you tell Barbara Iām in now?ā I prompt her, walking away while I pull the collar from my neck, making my way down the hall toward my corner office.
I walk into my office, taking in the view of the city. We are on the forty-sixth floor, so I can see the skyline perfectly, and at night, itās even better. I eat, sleep, and breathe my work. There arenāt set hours for my work. So, if I have to be at the office for fifteen hours a day, then thatās what it takes. Which is why I donāt need, or want, a wife at this point. Iād just let them down.
Iāve lost count of how many relationships Iāve had that have ended because I wasnāt there when I said I would be. Iām married to my work, and she is my first priority.
Sitting in my chair, I start going through the messages. I flip through them, seeing two messages from Vegas. Iām thinking of branching out and opening an office there, but something is stopping me. I like to stay local. I like to show up during construction. I like to pop in when you least expect it, and I wouldnāt be able to do that if I branched out to Vegas.
Iām about to call them back when there is a knock on the door. I donāt even have to tell them to come in before Barbara opens the door. I look over at her. Sheās been here from day one, but she isnāt what Iām looking at this morning; itās the girl behind her.
Fucking unbelievable! This crazy chick followed me to my work. She is probably coming to sue me. Iāll show her. āAre you fucking stalking me? Did you follow me here?ā I growl at her while I stand up behind my desk.
Barbaraās face pales and her mouth hangs open, but not the sassy one behind her. āFollow you? Are you insane?ā She looks at Barbara. āI canāt do this. I totally understand why youāve gone through so many temps. Who would work for him?ā She shakes her head. āNot only did he hit my carāāshe looks at meāāwhile texting. The first thing he asked was if I was drunk!ā She looks back at Barbara, who then glares at me. Great, just great, sheās on crazy chickās side. āYou would think he would ask me if Iām okay, right? Nope, not this guy. He wanted to know if I was drunk at eight a.m. Who the hell drinks at eight am anyway?ā She folds her arms under her breasts, unnecessarily pushing them up. Fuck. I canāt stop the mental image of her standing there, arms crossed under her tits, in nothing but her shoes. I shake that thought from my head.
āWait.ā I throw the messages on my desk. āYou, youāre my temp?ā
āNo, sir,ā she says, and fuck me, but does that ever make me want to hold her hands behind her back as I bend her over my desk and pound into her while she calls me sir. āI was your temp.ā She looks at Barbara. āI wish you well.ā Then she turns and starts walking out the door.
Barbaraās raised voice stops her. āWait a second!ā She looks at me. āAustin Montgomery Mackenzie, is Lauren telling me that you hit her car and then asked her if she was drunk? I raised you better than that, young man,ā she chides in that sharp tone I remember from my childhood. Okay, so Barbara was also my nanny growing up. That was to be expected when youāre the child of world-renowned doctors who jetted around the globe saving lives. One is a cardiologist, and the other is a brain surgeon. They had very little time to raise a child. So, thatās where Barbara came in, and she stayed until I was eighteen. She retired, but when I opened this firm, she was the first one I thought of to handle the HR side of the company, something I knew she would handle far better than me. āApologize right this second, Austin,ā she demands, and I scoff at her. I will not do any such thing.
āShe braked suddenly for no reason! There was no one in front of her,ā I defend myself. Barbaraās eyebrows pinch together, and she takes her glasses off so they hang on the chain around her neck. I know that if I donāt say sorry, this will just end in her quitting again. Last time, it cost me a month-long Mediterranean cruise. āFine,ā I huff out, āIām sorry I accused you of being drunk. I should have just called you what you areāa reckless, clueless female driver.ā
Lauren stands there glaring at me as Barbara yells, āI quit!ā This must shock Lauren, because she immediately goes to Barbara and strokes her back. āOh no. No, no, no. Please, really, itās fine. Itās totally okay. I accept his apology.ā She aims a glare at me. āI understand now why so many women left, heās a...ā She leans in and whispers in Barbaraās ear. I donāt know what she says, but they both snicker. Great, just great.
āYup, my money is on Lauren.ā She looks at me. āYouāre lucky she saved you this time.ā She smiles at Lauren. āLetās do lunch tomorrow. Austinās treat.ā
She leaves the room leaving us all alone. āFine. I guess Iāll try and work with you, for Barbara.ā She walks out to the desk facing my office. She puts her purse on it. Turning the computer on, she grabs a pen and notepad and comes back in. āNo time like the present to get this out of the way, so why donāt we start with your expectations of me?ā
I look at her while she sits in the chair in front of me, crossing her legs at her ankles. I sit down, leaning back in my chair, and start rocking. āOkay, fine. I expect you to be on time. Every day. No exceptions.ā
She doesnāt write it down. āThat isnāt a problem. I hate when people are late, so you donāt have to worry about that. Unless, of course, irresponsible people hit my car while Iām innocently driving, Iāll be here on time.ā
āThere is a list on your desk of routine tasks required of this position that you can read. If itās not clear enough, then come ask me questions. Howās that?ā
She gets up. āThat sounds like a plan.ā She turns to walk away, and I watch her. Every fucking step she takes she swings her hips; the best thing is, she has no idea sheās doing it. She has no idea that Iām sitting here negotiating with myself about my own rule. Iām not sure how Iām going to get anything done, because fucking her on my desk is the only thing I can think of that needs to be done right now.
She leaves the room leaving us all alone. āFine. I guess Iāll try and work with you, for Barbara.ā She walks out to the desk facing my office. She puts her purse on it. Turning the computer on, she grabs a pen and notepad and comes back in. āNo time like the present to get this out of the way, so why donāt we start with your expectations of me?ā
I look at her while she sits in the chair in front of me, crossing her legs at her ankles. I sit down, leaning back in my chair, and start rocking. āOkay, fine. I expect you to be on time. Every day. No exceptions.ā
She doesnāt write it down. āThat isnāt a problem. I hate when people are late, so you donāt have to worry about that. Unless, of course, irresponsible people hit my car while Iām innocently driving, Iāll be here on time.ā
āThere is a list on your desk of routine tasks required of this position that you can read. If itās not clear enough, then come ask me questions. Howās that?ā
She gets up. āThat sounds like a plan.ā She turns to walk away, and I watch her. Every fucking step she takes she swings her hips; the best thing is, she has no idea sheās doing it. She has no idea that Iām sitting here negotiating with myself about my own rule. Iām not sure how Iām going to get anything done, because fucking her on my desk is the only thing I can think of that needs to be done right now.
UNITED INDIE BOOK BLOG REVIEW
REVIEWER: LESLEY
RATING: 5 STARS
I absolutely loved this book. Tempt the boss is a hilarious romantic comedy that had me cracking my sides laughing and I couldn't put it down.
From the very first meeting Austin and Lauren had a hate/ sexual tension kind of relationship and with Austin's no dating coworkers policy this proves to be a problem because they both have an itch they need to scratch. What follows is the pair of them trying to out prank each other with hilarious consequences. They really are perfect for each other and when Austin is unbearable Lauren has just the right amount of sass and she isn't afraid to speak her mind and this makes Austin want her more. They really are a perfect match for each other. This is told in a duel POV which works really well and will have you falling in love with the characters. The sub characters work really well and we're as enjoyable to read about as the main characters. It was really well written. And it was pretty steamy and I didn't want their story to end. I do hope the author writes about the other characters.
When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...
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