“Sure.” I dig around in the big bin I lugged in and stack tampons, pads, and a couple of silicone cups on my desk.
She helps herself to a vast selection and pauses again.
“Yes?” I ask.
“So, you in on it?”
“On what?”
She points at the empty desk. “What the mean guy’s doing here?”
“We were asked not to discuss this, Blake.”
“He says we can’t take our computers home!”
“Good!” I improvise. “That’ll make for a better work-life balance.”
“What? No. My home laptop died, and I use the work one to—”
“You sure you want to finish that sentence, Blake?” I ask.
“Oh. Right. ’Kay, bye!” She takes off, leaving me to settle back into my chair and stare at the other desk.
Another knock comes, this one a sharp double rap.
The door opens to reveal my new office mate. He steps in and shuts it behind him, turning and coming to a full stop when he sees my desk covered in a mountain of menstrual supplies. He looks at me, brows raised. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” I scramble to slide the boxes into a drawer and immediately wish I hadn’t. If he can’t take the sight of boxed-up menstruation supplies, how on earth does he manage what happens downstairs in that club?
Argh. No! No club thoughts in the office. Only office thoughts.
Immediately, my mind provides that image again—him flipping up my skirt, swiping the surface of my desk clear… period supplies flying everywhere.
Stop it!Suppressing a groan, I sit up taller, forcing a neutral, professional look to my face and, in need of something to keep my hands busy, start emptying the bin of supplies. “What can I help you with, Grant?”
“We need to lay out some ground rules, you and I.”
And just like that, my brain goes flying back to the club.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Grant
“OH?SUCH AS?” RAE“Sunny” Jensen watches me, her expression a fascinating mix of annoyance and that wide-eyed curiosity she showed on Friday night. Beside her desk is an enormous plastic bin filled to the brim with tchotchkes.
I focus on her annoyance, wondering how she can be peeved at a perfectly logical request from me after sitting unfazed through that unhinged staff meeting.
Because Rae is an agent of chaos. That’s how. She may look all sweet and innocent with those rosy cheeks and curly hair, but underneath all her disarmingly cherubic trappings, she is a wreaker of havoc who has somehow snowed the rest of the world into thinking she’s harmless.
I know better, though.
“Are you going to be a problem, Rae?”
“Are you?”
“Very mature.”
“I’m not the one treating the team like children. No laptops outside of the building? No one works from home? That’s ridiculous.”
