“I’m glad you find this so funny,” I said dryly. “And how the hell did you get your stomach to pop out like that? You’re like a freak of nature!”

“It’s amazing what substantial amounts of Mexican food can do.” She giggled again.

“I’m just thankful she wasn’t wearing any rings.”

I thought she was going to fall off the stool as she burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. “Oh, man.” She sighed once she finally gained a hold of herself, wiping at the tears of laughter that had run down her cheeks. “You should have seen your face when I said I was pregnant. I thought you were about to have a heart attack. No person’s face should turn that unnatural shade of red. I was really worried for a second.”

“I’m sure you were,” I deadpanned, switching out the bag of frozen peas for a bottle of vodka and slamming the door closed. “Rest assured, my heart’s just fine. It’ll take a lot more than a fake pregnancy scare to get me to keel over any time soon.” I pulled down two glasses from one of the cabinets, filling each with a little more than a shot’s worth before sliding one in her direction.

“You sure about that?” Her dark blue eyes narrowed as she studied me. I was lost in a daze as her full, puffy lips pressed against the glass as she took a drink. I was so focused on what those lips would look like wrapped around my dick that I almost missed her next dig… almost. “I mean, you’re not exactly young, are you?”

I choked on the vodka as it made its way down my throat. It took several seconds of wheezing and coughing before I could give her a proper glare. “I’m only thirty-three,” I grumbled, all of a sudden wondering if she felt that thirty-three was too old for her. I wasn’t exactly sure of her age, but I knew she’d only recently graduated from college, so that put her around twenty-two, twenty-three years old. Was that too much of an age difference in Navie’s eyes?

And why did I suddenly care?

“Whatever you say, boss man,” she replied before bringing the glass back to her lips and finishing off her drink. “Thanks for the drink and the show. I’ll see myself out.” As she stood from the barstool, I was hit with an unexpected pang of disappointment. I didn’t want her to leave. That was a reaction I’d never had before when it came to a woman in my personal space.

“Wait,” I called, following her out of the kitchen. “Let me get some cash for your cab.”

She smiled up at me as she slid her arms into her gray hoodie. The sight of that uninhibited smile nearly took my breath away. “Nah, that’s all right. Your cheek’s still pretty red, so I figure we’re even.”

“You sure?” I asked as she pulled the front door open, trying anything to prolong the moment.

“Yep. Have a good weekend. I’ll see you Monday.” With one last grin, she turned and began walking away.

“Yeah, see ya.”

As I closed the door to my apartment, I couldn’t stop myself from wishing it was already Monday.

Shit. I was so screwed.

In the weeks that followed my acting debut, Rowan and I had seemed to come to a cease-fire. We still got our shots off when the desire grew too strong, but for the most part, our working relationship had been better. I couldn’t say he’d become a decent person, but at least he was more tolerable. I’d been working as Rowan Locklaine’s personal assistant for over a month and neither of us was dead or in jail. That was a win-win, as far as I was concerned. I could honestly say I was starting to like my job. There was only one problem. On top of beginning to like my job, I was also beginning to like my boss…a little too much. I didn’t know if it was simply because I’d already seen him naked, but too much of my headspace was being taken up by the gruff, temperamental man.

Only the week prior, I’d woken up a panting, sweaty mess after having an all-too-vivid dream where he did things to me that would have been grounds for a serious sexual harassment suit had it not been a fantasy. The dream was so arousing that I’d started to look at him in a completely different light. I may have been caught a time—or a dozen—checking him out in a not-so-professional way ever since. And to my absolute dismay, I found I was really starting to enjoy the back and forth banter between the two of us.

Trying to push the inappropriate thoughts to the back of my mind, I began doing all my work from the comforts of my boss’ massive couch, which felt like falling into a hug whenever you sat down. And the sixty-inch flat-screen TV that aired all my favorite shows playing in the background made it slightly easier to fill my mind with something other than what Rowan’s naked body would feel like laying on top of me. I needed to get my shit together, and fast.

I had free reign of everything from the kitchen to the living room while Rowan holed himself up in his office, working on his next book. I was halfway through the first season of Chrisley Knows Best while updating Rowan’s calendar when the doorbell cut through the pleasantness of my afternoon. The first thought that entered my head as I stood from the couch—a couch I was working up a plan to steal—was, If this is another booty call, I’m punching that asshole in the nards and demanding a raise.

“Can I help you?” I asked with a huff and an eye-roll, already planning a way to get rid of whatever bimbo was at the door.

“Dear Lord, I really fuckin’ hope so.” The deep, masculine voice gave me a start as I jerked my attention to the person standing on the other side of the threshold.

Well, hello.

“Oh. H-hi,” I stumbled as my eyes roamed over every inch of the gift from God in the form of a man standing before me. I was staring into the same, icy blue eyes as Rowan’s, but the smile behind them was so much more carefree than the one I occasionally glimpsed from my moody boss. Where Rowan’s hair was jet-black, this man’s was a darker brown. The stranger stood an inch or two shorter than Rowan and his nose was just a little more crooked, like it had been broken a time or two, but other than that, the similarities were uncanny. He had all the sexy physical characteristics of Rowan with what appeared to be a nicer demeanor beneath it all. In other words, the absolute perfect man.

So, the question had to be asked. Why was my mind still going back to Rowan?

“Hey there,” he rumbled, the corner of his mouth hooking up in a half-smile that could only be described as devastating to the female population. “I’m Griffin, and who might you be?”

“Oh, uh… I’m Navie,” I responded pathetically. Griffin reached out to take my hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a light kiss to my knuckles. I swooned on the spot.

“Navie, huh? That’s an interesting name. It fits its beautiful owner perfectly.”

With Griffin still holding my hand, I broke out into a fit of embarrassingly loud giggles. We were both standing in silence with ridiculous grins on our faces when a throat cleared from behind me. Griffin’s smile turned suddenly somewhat mischievous.

“Hey, cuz. How’s it going?” he spoke, not letting go of my hand as I turned to find Rowan standing there with his arms crossed, an angry scowl marring his otherwise handsome face.

“It’d be going a lot better if you’d let go of my assistant, asshole.”

My gaze darted between the two men like a ping-pong ball. “Ah, where’s the fun in that?” Griffin chuckled.

“You think a broken hand is fun? Because that’s what’s going to happen in about five seconds if you. Don’t. Let. Go.”

Usually, I would have found such an exchange humorous, but from the way the muscle in Rowan’s jaw was ticking, I was almost certain he was dead serious about breaking Griffin’s hand. I tried pulling my fingers from his grasp but he only tightened his hold, taking a step closer to me.