My jaw tightened. “Her name is Ina, and I’d remind you that comments like that violate company policy. Norma would have your head.”
“True, but that’s why I would never say that to Norma.” He waved dismissively. “But come on, Dane. All bets are off after what I heard about yesterday’s commercial shoot. That little vixen really committed to the role, didn’t she?”
Vixen.The word made my blood pressure spike.
“It’s not her fault she did a good job,” I said, keeping my voice carefully neutral. “She minored in theater in college, so it shouldn’t be a huge surprise. She was asked to stand in for a rehearsal, and she did what we asked of her.”
Keith raised an eyebrow. “Theater minor? From where, the University of Nowhere, Wyoming?”
“University of Wyoming,” I corrected, then immediately regretted it.
I hadn’t meant to reveal I knew where she went to school. No one needed to know I had read her resume at least three times before Norma had convinced me to approve the hire.
I’d been expecting some nerdy Midwestern transplant based on the application photo. She’d been wearing pink sparkly glasses and had a small nose ring, looking every bit the earnest small-town girl trying to make it in the big city.
Then she’d shown up to the Christmas party looking like someone had poured starlight into human form, and I had nearly pulled Norma aside to ask her to find me a different assistant.
I had zero problem hiring an attractive woman. I wasn’t an animal. I could control myself around a pretty girl. If anything, women had trouble controlling themselves aroundme. But Ina Lavin was different.
My self-control weakened around her. I had never felt anything like it and I had no idea what the hell to do with these unfamiliar feelings. The safest move was to keep my distance. I could look at the back of her head all I wanted, just as long as I stayed away from the front of her.
Keith tapped his fingers on my desk to get my attention, snapping me from my distracted thoughts. “Are you doing this Valentine’s gift exchange bull shit?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I groaned and let my head fall back against my chair. “Don’t remind me. Lucas wouldn’t stop pouting until I said yes.”
“Well, that’s who I got. Lucas.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you know how impossible it is to shop for that man? He hasopinionsabout everything. Thread count. Coffee bean origins. The proper way to fold a pocket square. I’m going to fail spectacularly and he’s going to roast me in the group chat.”
An idea formed. A terrible, impulsive, absolutely necessary idea.
“I’ll trade with you,” I said.
Keith’s head snapped up. “Seriously?”
“I got someone who’s easier to shop for. You take them, I can handle Lucas.” That wasn’t even a lie. I had officiated Lucas’s wedding last year after he threatened to blackmail me. With what, I still wasn’t sure, but knowing Lucas, he probably had something.
I knew his coffee preferences, his favorite brands, his obsession with that ridiculous bulldog of his. Buying gifts for Lucas meant I wouldn’t have to spend the next month agonizing over what gifts to buy for the woman I was actively trying not to think about.
“Wait, who do you have?” Keith asked with suspicion.
“Ina.”
Keith looked like I just gave him a winning lottery ticket. “God, thank you. You have no idea how much anxiety this was causing me. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
We swapped the slips of paper with the names on them. I tried not to feel like I had just made a catastrophic mistake.
Keith left shortly after, and I was left alone with my laptop and my thoughts and the growing realization that I’d been putting off the one conversation I absolutely had to have today.
I looked through my open door at Ina’s back. She was typing something, her fingers flying across the keyboard with that 100wpm she boasted about on her resume.
I could just send her a Slack message. That would be easier. More professional. Less likely to result in me noticing things like the way her nose crinkled when she concentrated or how she bit her lower lip when she was thinking.
But this conversation needed to happen face to face. She deserved that much.
“Ina,” I called, keeping my voice stern. Professional. The voice of a boss addressing an employee.
She jumped slightly, then turned in her chair. She stood up quickly, smoothing down her sweater, and stared at me with those big, innocent eyes.
“Yes, Mr. Kavanagh?”
