Falling for Your Boss by Emma St. Clair
Chapter Four
Zoey
I spendthe afternoon being tortured. With Nancy gone, I’m forced to take over her job. Which wouldn’t be so bad—I can answer phone calls and check emails from her desk.
No, it’s the proximity to Gavin, who seems to enjoy working with his door open, directly in my line of sight. He moves, and my eyes automatically flick to him. Half the time, he’s looking at me. Some of the time, he’s smiling as he does so. Smiling.
What does that mean?!
I should have chosen a short-sleeved blouse today. Or used that clinical-strength deodorant Harper uses before she goes to the gym. Because I’m feeling positively swampy around the armpit area. When Gavin leaves his office briefly later, I stand over the air-conditioning vents, shaking out my shirt to get some circulation flowing up in there.
If that weren’t bad enough, I still haven’t turned in my letter of resignation. It’s practically burning a hole in the leather bag Dad bought me when Gavin officially hired me here. I keep staring down at it, telling myself that I’ll do it by the next hour and the next. The hours continue to pass. My letter stays in my bag.
You big chicken, I scold myself. But I swear, I’ll do it by five. I will.
I call Nancy later on to check on her, a little concerned when I get her voicemail. She could be sleeping, but I can’t help but worry. I don’t know much about her, other than the fact that Gavin treats her a little more like a grandmother than his assistant.
I walk to Gavin’s office doorway. He’s smiling down at his phone. I hate his smile. It’s impossible to get anything done when I look at it. And who’s putting that smile on his face? My jealousy is immediate, intense, and totally out-of-line.
I clear my throat. “Gavin?”
His eyes meet mine, and if this were a movie, there would be sparks or some kind of electricity stretching between us. But this is real life, and I’m sure the only sparks are flying from my direction to his. Desperate, one-sided sparks.
“Have you spoken with Nancy? I’m a little worried. I called, but she didn’t answer.”
He frowns, and even that look is sexy on him. “I haven’t. That’s sweet that you checked on her.”
Sweet. He thinks I’m sweet. I swallow. “Does she have family? Someone to check in on her?”
Gavin’s face softens, and I feel like I just won some kind of prize for caring about Nancy. “Not here. I don’t have much on my schedule for the rest of the afternoon, do I?”
I don’t even have to check the calendar. “You’ve got that video conference in half an hour, but otherwise, no.”
“Great. I’ll cut out a bit early so I can check on her. Can you let everyone know and handle all the calls?”
“Sounds good.”
Before Gavin moves back to his office, he has his phone out again, that same smile on this face. I’ve got a mini catalogue of his smiles: the fake one that doesn’t reach his eyes, the twitching-lips one where he’s trying not to laugh at something, the genuine one mostly reserved for Nancy, and a few times, for me.
This one? It’s genuine. It’s big and broad and makes the fine lines around his eyes crinkle in a delicious way.
I want to be the one making him smile like that.
My jealousy continues to flare with the intensity of a forest fire. Because someone other than me is putting that look on Gavin’s face. There is no world in which I have the right to be jealous of someone else making Gavin smile. I should be happy for him. Good for him.
But I want to punch whoever she is right in the throat. And then take her place as the person who makes him smile like that.
I send an email letting the office know Gavin will be gone after four, then set up everything for his conference call. Five minutes before it should start, I head to the break room to make him a decaf coffee, something Nancy usually does for him in the afternoons. Not that I’ve paid close attention to that fact, or the fact that he drinks it black. I’m totally not cataloguing every detail I can about Gavin.
Feeling nervous excitement pinging through my body like a pinball, I walk through his office door, then immediately halt as I realize he’s on the phone.
He’s standing with his back to me, facing the window, one hand holding his phone up to his ear and the other running through his dark hair.
“This weekend sounds perfect,” he says, and my heart ties itself into a strangling knot. “I can’t wait to get my arms around you.”
Okay, now I’m just going to lose my lunch all over the ugly office carpeting. My fingers twitch with the urge to rip the phone out of his hands and shove it into the shredder. I try to set the coffee mug on his desk quietly and tiptoe out, but of course, Gavin turns. He probably has been watching my reflection in the glass.
Sorry, I mouth, still trying to make my escape. But he holds up a finger, asking me to wait.
“I’ve got to go. Love you too.”
He slides the phone back into his pocket, unaware that my heart just fell down an elevator shaft and is lying splattered on the concrete at the basement level.
“I made you coffee,” I tell him, but the words have a tone.
I never have a tone. Not with Gavin. This is my biggest slip-up in control ever, and it is not good. I sound angry and passive aggressive.
Gavin raises his brows and slowly walks toward me. Stalking would be a better word. “Something wrong, Zoey?” he asks.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
He stops a foot or two away, his eyes darting over my face, as though looking for a weak spot. A point of entry to get inside. But I am Alcatraz now. Unless Gavin buys a boat and has a set of keys, he’s not getting anywhere near my island.
“Positive.”
“Because it looks like something is on your mind. You know you can tell me anything.”
Oh, I’m just completely crushed that youhave a girlfriend. One that you’re going to put your arms around this weekend. Someone you love.
I thought it was sort of painful working here every day, with Gavin just out of reach. I had no idea what pain was.
“Your conference call is starting in about forty-five seconds,” I say, turning on my heel to walk right out of his office, closing the door behind me.
When Gavin emerges from his office forty-five minutes later, I force my eyes to stay on the computer screen. I don’t need to look at him. Or the way he fills out his shirt now that he’s removed his jacket and holds it over one arm.
But of course, he stops right in front of my desk, just standing there. Finally, I glance up, seeing smile number six, the one where just one corner lifts, like he’s trying to hide his amusement. This is the most kissable smile. His girlfriend probably thinks so too.
“I’m headed out to check on Nancy,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
It’s not right that a man like him can be so handsome and also thoughtful. He should be cruel and cold, just to give us all a fighting chance at survival.
“I’m fine. Are you concerned at all about catching whatever she has?”
Gavin’s smile widens a bit. “I figure I’ve already been exposed. I’ve got a healthy immune system. I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern.”
Oh, I’m not concerned. I hope you get sick and stay home for the next two weeks. I’ll turn in my resignation to HR, and then I won’t have to see your stupid, handsome face ever again.
I look back at the computer screen. “Let me know if Nancy’s okay. I can cover for her tomorrow as well if she isn’t able to make it back.”
“I know you can. You’re very capable.”
The way he says capable sounds like something else. Like he means more than that.
Do not look up at him. Do not look up at him. Do not—I look up at him. And I’m immediately sorry.
His eyes are intense. They’re the color of my favorite kind of chocolate, Ferrero Rocher, the hazelnut chocolate balls that come wrapped in gold foil. I keep a stash in my desk, saved for my most desperate moments. And yes, different kinds of chocolate have different colors. Anyone who loves chocolate as much as I do understands this.
Gavin’s eyes are warm and delicious, and I could get completely addicted to the look he’s giving me.
Which is … what? What kind of look is this? It’s not the look a boss gives an employee. And it’s definitely not the kind of look that a man seeing the woman he loves this weekend should be giving anyone. I’m furious.
And yet the desperate part of me I keep so tamed, that Abby jokes I bind up with the tightness of my ponytails, is trying to break free. She doesn’t care if Gavin is my boss. Or was smiling for some other woman on the phone.
She only cares that Gavin is here, now. Looking at me with a heat that I think has scorched my insides.
I do what I do best when I’m trying to keep myself under control. I overcompensate. Making my eyes as cold as I possibly can, I lift one brow to give him what Abby calls my death stare.
“Do you need something else?”
He frowns, that warmth in his eyes disappearing into something more like concern. “Did I do something wrong? Is it something I said?”
“No.”
Gavin blows out a frustrated breath. “We’ve worked together for two years now. I’d like to think that I know you pretty well, and something is clearly wrong.”
“You don’t know me at all.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek because the words hurt to say. I can tell by the flash of emotion in his eyes that the words struck him as well.
What I said is true. But I don’t want it to be. Despite all the reasons I shouldn’t, I would give this man everything. Tell him my deepest secrets, share my life with him. Maybe there was a tiny part of me that hoped after I took another job, I’d run into Gavin casually. We’d strike up a conversation, ending with him asking me on a date and then we’d live happily ever after.
I feel like such a fool.
I turn my attention back to the computer, even though everything in me wants to apologize for being cold, for being rude. I want to apologize, to tell Gavin that I’m not mad. But what can I say? I’m just jealous of the girlfriend I didn’t know you even had, so I’m taking it out on you? Stop being so handsome and so taken and so much my boss, you big handsome jerk?
Yeah, no.
And so I keep my eyes fixed on the computer screen so hard that my retinas feel like they’re burning, until Gavin finally gives up on me, walking right out of the office without saying another word.