Page 38 of Sexy Bad Boss

“Alex, you make good cookies.” Abby chews thoughtfully. “Chocolate-y.”

“Of course they’re chocolate-y,” James grumbles. “They’ve got chocolate in them. The same as Myra’s, and ours. If someone had been watching the oven, maybe we’d still be in the competition.”

“My fault entirely,” Alex agrees. “Myra told me you were progressive and would be open to my ideas. I was just trying to assist you to the best of my ability.”

“Mmmmm.” Abby’s eyes widen and light up as she chews on a bite of one of my cookies. “These are my favoritest. They taste like ooey gooey chocolate, but better.”

Both men drop their conversation to look at Abby and then snatch up a cookie each. James chews thoughtfully, while Alex takes a bite and then holds the rest of the cookie up to his face. “What’s different? I thought we made the same cookie.”

“Secret ingredient.” I pretend to zip my lip and stow the key in my pocket, which makes Abby giggle until cookie crumbs fall out of her mouth.

“Come on, Myra, tell us,” Alex pleads. “These are some of the best cookies I’ve ever tasted.”

“I don’t know how you expect me to survive without your cookies, Myra.” The rigidity with which James has been holding himself since his cookies turned to charcoal eases off as he chews. “No one makes my favorite like you do.”

“That’s it. You have to tell me what you did.” Alex flaps his cookie in the air. “For the boss’s sake.”

“No,” I say at the same time James does. I catch his eye and get a little lost in the way he’s looking at me. Does he like my cookie that much? My pulse flutters, and I slip my hand to the base of my throat as heat blooms under my skin. Is it wrong that I love the way he looks at me like I’m important to him, that I imagine I’m more than just an asset?

“Your job description doesn’t include baking cookies, Alex.” There’s no irritation in the way he talks to the kid this time. It’s just matter of fact. “And your ideas aren’t terrible, but your delivery needs work. You’ve been with the company for less than twenty-four hours. How about we learn to walk before we fly?”

Alex chews thoughtfully then nods once. “Okay.”

“Now, I would like my chair so I can retire to the living room.”

Alex leaves to retrieve James’s chair, and I scoop Abby out of her seat. “It’s time for you to brush your teeth and go to bed, don’t you think?”

“Dad lets me stay up until midnight,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder and yawning.

James and I share a glance. Maybe this kid thing isn’t so awful, if you find the right person to share it with. Maybe if James and I... I push those thoughts right back where they belong. One step at a time. “I don’t think so.”

“Myra’s right.” James squeezes her hand as we pass him to say goodnight. “Bedtime for you.”

“Good night, Uncle James, good night, Alex,” she whispers as we pass him bringing in the wheelchair.

***

Abby talked me into reading a couple of bedtime stories before she fell asleep with one arm flung over the cat, who had curled up and started purring the minute I got Abby into bed. By the time I came back downstairs, Alex had left and James was on a call, so I headed into the kitchen.

The way James ordered me to drop my panties and then treated me to what might easily be the best orgasm of my life has been playing on my mind all evening. So has the fact that I didn’t get to hear what he was going to say before Garrett interrupted us. I desperately want to know what it was. Now we’re alone again. Pretty soon his phone call will end, and I’ll run out of dishes, and then what? How do I tell him something I haven’t been able to find the words for yet?

“What are you doing?” James asks from the entry to the kitchen while I scrub another plate and set it in the rack.

“Figured I’d clean up the kitchen while you were on the phone.” I dunk another plate into the hot suds and swipe the cloth over its surface.

“You were engrossed in those dishes. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about how much I’m going to miss nights like these. Not that they happen a lot.” I deposit the plate in the drying rack and reach for a mixing bowl. “Before I came to Frost Inc., I had this idea that I’d start my own cookie business.”

“You would have been great at it.” There’s something, a roughness, to James’s voice that isn’t usual.

“Not then. I didn’t know enough. Baking and business are not the same.”

“That’s true. They aren’t.” His biceps and forearms flex as he wheels closer. “But you would have made it work, Supergirl. You have the head for giving people what they want before they know what it is. I’m just glad you chose me instead. Well, Frost Inc.”

“You have Alex now,” I interrupt him. I don’t want to be told again about how much the company needs me.

“That kid is going to be the death of me. Six months from now, I’ll be front page news for jumping out of my office window.”