I reach for the Snickers just to give myself something to do. “You always this cocky after hours?”
“Only when I’ve earned it.” His gaze flicks down, tracing the line of my throat, my collarbone. “And only when I’m right.”
God, he’s infuriating. And sexy. And infuriating because he’s sexy.
“That line usually work on your board members, or am I special?”
He chuckles, low and rough. “Special, Sinclair. No question.”
The way he says my name—Sinclair—wraps around me like a touch.
I tear the wrapper off the candy bar too fast, pretending not to notice the way he watches my hands. “You really don’t have to babysit me.”
He pushes off the counter, stepping closer. Close enough that I can smell his cologne again—clean and expensive, with a trace of smoke underneath.
“Maybe I don’t,” he says. “But I want to make sure my best new hire doesn’t pass out in my building. Bad optics.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t want to ruin your image.”
His grin sharpens, that hint of wolf in it now. “You couldn’t ruin a damn thing.”
My pulse stutters.
I take a bite of the candy bar, but I can’t taste it.
He’s too close, too solid.
Too…there.
And forone stupid, dizzy second, all I can think about is how it felt in Miami when that same voice was in my ear and his hands weren’t busy holding water bottles and vending machine snacks.
I clear my throat. “You really should leave before someone thinks you’re breaking company policy.”
He leans forward, eyes unblinking. “Someone already might.”
Then—like the merciful bastard he is—he finally sits back.
“Eat,” he orders softly. “Then go home.”
"I'm fine."
"You're exhausted." He pauses. "And you've been looking pale all week."
“You've been watching me?"
His steely eyes narrow. "I notice things about my employees."
"Do you empty out the vendingmachine for all of them, too?"
"Only the ones who are too stubborn to take care of themselves."
We're staring at each other now, and I'm suddenly very aware that we're alone in the break room at ten PM, and that openly staring at my ridiculously handsome, formerly filthy-mouthed boss is getting harder to maintain by the second.
His knee shifts from where he sits, brushing mine. Once. Lightly.
My breath catches, and the corner of his mouth curves—but just barely.
I stand. Too fast.
