Page 29 of Sexy Bad Boss

Chapter Nine

MYRA

“Don’t look at me like that,” I say to Simon as I place the carafe full of coffee for the latest interview on a tray along with cream and sugar and a box of McVitie’s Chocolate Digestives I found in James’s pantry. He’s been a fan of them since I first introduced him to this small taste of home. Though he always says they have nothing on the cookies I bake. “You have no idea how hard this is.”

Kitty sticks her nose in the air and looks at me with disdain. I don’t know why she’s giving me attitude since I’m the one who fed her and let her stay in James’s house despite his insistence she be tossed out. Also, I put up those damn flyers on every light post and street sign in a three-block radius.

“Meow,” she responds.

Although the noise she makes is less meow and more conversation. Like she actually thinks she has the answer to my problem. If only that were true.

“Well, what do you think then? If you’re going to be so vocal about it.”

“Myra, are you coming?” James calls from the living room. I cringe. Yesterday morning, pussy wasn’t the only surprise. Now, I can’t make head nor tail of the situation. The brightest moment in my life, and all he could say is we shouldn’t have done that? I got down on my knees for my boss. Down. On. My. Knees.

“Meow.” Simon lifts one dainty paw and begins to lick, her gaze never deviating. Her tail curls up and swooshes behind her like a question mark.

“You were there.” I keep my voice low so that James and company won’t overhear. “He wanted it as much as I did, didn’t he? So why is it such a mistake to him?”

“Meow.”

“I should give up. Take that job in London. Forget any of this. I could start doing the things I’ve always wanted to.”

Simon blinks and then shifts her focus to the pink pads of her paw.

“I suppose you’re right.” I rip open the box of biscuits and bite into one. When I imagine traveling, I see sharing a hotel room with him. When I think about my to-do list, he’s always on it. With a mouthful of digestive biscuit, I point the rest of the treat at the cat. “It took five years to get to this point. I shouldn’t give up on him when he’s only starting to come around.”

Simon moves on to another paw.

“No, I need to up my game.” I put down the rest of the cookie and find a plate to pile the others onto. “Yesterday morning made it pretty clear that he’s not completely oblivious. That thing. What we did in the shower.”

“Meow,” she agrees.

I pick up the rest of my cookie and shake it in her direction. “Don’t meow me. We both know it’s too sensitive a matter for your pointed ears.”

“Myra?” James calls again. He’s probably not used to me making him wait while I talk to a cat. Even I’m finding it slightly unusual.

“Coming.”

“Meow.”

“Don’t be so devious.” I lower my voice. “And besides, how much I enjoyed what happened in the shower isn’t the debate, is it? It’s whether or not I was simply the closest person who could help him with his needs. He was pretty clear he didn’t plan on it happening again.”

I pop the rest of the cookie in my mouth and pick up the tray. I’d told him I’d been holding out for him. I told him I’ve wanted to kiss him for what seems like forever, and he pulled me into his arms. He kissed me. Sans Johnny. It was all of my fantasies coming true.

The cookie gets too chewy. I have to swallow hard to get it to go down. I was so darn happy in that shower as I climbed to my feet, my lust-soaked brain running through the positions that would make it easy for him to slide into me despite his injuries. Why can’t he see that we’d be great together?

“Meow.”

“Not another word.” I shake my head at Simon as I carry the coffee into James’s living room. Hopefully, this interviewee will be the one that fills my position when I’m gone.

James is set up on the couch, his bad ankle cradled by a pillow on the coffee table; the easiest way we found to make it possible to balance his laptop. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to the elbow, and the breeze from the air conditioner ruffles his dark locks. One finger disappears between his throat and the two buttons undone at his collar as he draws his attention from the screen to catch me entering the room. Those blue eyes watch me until I put the tray down on the coffee table in front of him. Damn my heart for skipping a beat when it sees him.

“You’re available to start this afternoon?” He shifts his focus to the man sitting on the edge of the chair across from us, and I busy myself with fixing the coffee.

“I came prepared to get straight to work,” Alexander replies, putting down his leather case and adjusting his tie for the twentieth time since he arrived.