I hated the tingle in the passage between my legs where his thigh had touched me. “Pompous, aren’t we?”

“Honest,” he corrected. Stretching his arms up, he linked his long fingers together behind his head. “I don’t want to keep you any longer, Ms. Connelly,” he said, his tone suddenly one hundred-percent professional.

Two can play at this crap, I thought.

“Of course not, Mr. Manning.” I started toward the door, but froze because a low chuckle erupted from the back of his throat. I glanced over my shoulder to see the look of blatant enjoyment on his face. “Yes?”

“You’re walking out of here empty-handed. I’d assumed that since you were in here to grab something for Margaret, you’d be taking it with you.” Using his thumb, he scratched the end of his slightly crooked nose. “But maybe you’re so attuned to her needs, you realized she changed her mind.”

Shit. Stalking over to the desk, I snatched the first thing that snagged my attention—the folder I’d given her yesterday with her new Paris itinerary. I coaxed my expression into a grateful smile. “Thank you for reminding me.” I walked away, and the sensation of his blue eyes strategically peeling away each article of my clothing seeped through my body, making me ache all over with need.

Just before I stepped across the threshold to cross the hallway, his husky voice addressed me one last time. “You’re welcome, Ms. Connelly.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know he was grinning.

*

Oliver continued to wait in Margaret’s office, even though she didn’t return until after the takeout from a nearby Italian restaurant was successfully delivered. Despite the double doors being closed, I could hear the argument taking place on the other side. As I chewed the lasagna I’d ordered for myself, it didn’t take me long to figure out the reason behind his visit.

His mother was intervening in his love life, specifically by trying to pair him with one of his former flames.

And he didn’t like it one damn bit.

“I don’t care why she’ll be in the area; I have absolutely no interest in her. We’ve gone over this before. It’s not happening again,” I heard Oliver growl at his mother, followed by a cry of frustration from Margaret.

“But she’s—” my boss began in a frosty voice, but a second later, something slammed, cutting her off. The sound of footsteps marching closer to my door startled me, and I hastily rolled my chair across the hard floor, wheezing for air when the edge of my desk hit me in the stomach.

“You’re very bad at pretending to not give a damn, beautiful,” Oliver commented as he passed my door. “I’ll see you early next week when I get back from out of town.”

I was dying to know what he was leaving for, but I shook the thought of asking out of my head. Not smart. Especially since I was still shaky from what had happened in Margaret’s office.

“Have a wonderful afternoon, Mr. Manning,” I called after him.

He muttered something under his breath, and I could have sworn it was, “It would be wonderful if it ended with you in my bed,” but I didn’t have the chance to ask him because I heard the ding of the elevator opening down the hall, signaling his departure.

Several minutes later, I was finishing up my lunch before I was due to return to the board meeting to take notes for Margaret and answering a few emails she’d forwarded to me, when a new message from Oliver showed up in my inbox. It was the first he’d sent me since he had Easton remove the block, and I almost considered ignoring it until the end of the day.

The last thing I needed was for him to get me all worked up, just so I could spend the next few hours with wet panties, parked in a seat right next to his mother.

Popping a piece of gum in my mouth, I tossed the rest of my lunch into the trashcan beneath my desk and gave myself a fast once-over with the compact mirror I kept in my desk drawer, right beside the unused gift card Oliver had given me. As I smoothed stray strands of my hair back in place, my brown eyes kept darting over to the screen and the unopened email waiting for me. Teasing me.

Dammit.

Snapping the compact shut, I clicked on the message, the pressure in the pit of my stomach returning when I scanned the email.

I can’t get your scent out of my head. It’ll be the only thing I’m able to think about while I’m in Philadelphia. Not good for business, Lizzie.

My desk phone rang, and I breathed into the receiver, “You’ve reached Lizzie Connelly, how can I help you?”

“I need you in the boardroom, Ms. Connelly,” Margaret snapped. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t answer the phone like that. This is a business, not a phone sex operation.”

The irony was almost too much.

Promising her that I was on my way, I hung up and returned to the boardroom—my thoughts pinging between the photo I’d seen on Margaret’s laptop and Oliver.

*

For the next week, he was freakishly silent, which I attributed to him being away on business. Not that I had much time on my hands for flirting. With Margaret’s Halloween event quickly approaching, I hardly had time to breathe. Before I even made it out the door to go to work Tuesday morning, she was already sending me a string of text messages.

I will be out of town until tomorrow. Stop by the Heritage to check in on Roche.

Did you schedule a driver for my guests and myself for Thursday night?

Make sure you meet the Scotts at my home this afternoon and see to anything they might need.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sank down on the edge of my leather couch, rereading her texts. Not only was this the first I’d heard of her going out of town today, but I also had no idea she had guests coming in.

“The Scotts,” I whispered under my breath, wondering if Oliver’s former girlfriend would be among whomever was scheduled to arrive. After his argument with her last week, I would have thought Margaret had let that go, but it was too much of a coincidence not to be Finley. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I pulled up my work email on my phone, scanning through the messages until I found the one I was looking for buried under a handful of messages my boss had sent to me yesterday.  With the subject line IMPORTANT, it hadn’t been opened, and I groaned as I scanned the contents.

Ms. Connelly,

As I have an important engagement in New York tomorrow morning, I will need you to meet my guests at my home and let them in. The access code to the gate is 0451 and the combination to the lockbox and the alarm is 1283. DO NOT MISPLACE THE KEYS, and give them the blue key. Below you’ll find my guests’ itinerary, along with my address, to give you an idea of what time you’ll need to be at my house. These are very close family friends, and it’s imperative that you make sure they’re comfortable.

I will be back on Wednesday, in plenty of time for the event on Thursday.

-M

“That woman,” I whispered, my brows pulling together.  The sound of rubber sliding against the laminate flooring drew my attention up to Pen, who was coiling her dark hair in a bun on top of her head. Even though it was well before nine, she was already dressed for the day in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, turquoise flip flops, and a matching tank top that made her giant chest seem impossibly larger.

“My boobs are jealous,” I said, causing her to stare down and grab her chest.

“You don’t think it’s too much do you?” When I nodded, she straightened the hem of her tank top. “So what did Margaret do now?”

“It’s more what I didn’t do,” I explained, carefully studying the Scotts’ itinerary. Three people would be arriving at two-thirty this afternoon, which would give me plenty of time to check in on the event planner and catch up on my in-office duties. “She sent an email yesterday asking me to let some guests in—” As soon as I said those words, my breath caught.