Read Online More by Clare James - Free Book Online Page A

of my apartment at all. My eyes roll back in my head a little as I think of Foster’s touch as he helped me with my bra, the buttons down my shirt, and my shoes—I couldn’t forget that. How I sat on the bed and he kneeled in front of me, grasping my foot in his firm grip, lightly coaxing it into my sandals. The way his fingertips grazed my ankle as he fastened the straps.
    I thought of many other things he could do while he was down there, but I kept those thoughts to myself.
    Foster weaves through rush hour traffic like a pro and has me in front of the D and D offices in no time. I’m almost sad about it.
    “Thanks for the ride,” I tell him. Then I lean over and whisper, “And the help with my clothes. Remember, I’ll need your assistance to take them off as well.”
    I can’t help it. I think I’m finally getting to him like he’s always gotten to me. I like it and want to torture him, just a little.
    Foster shakes his head and hands me a bag.
    “What’s this?”
    “A little snack in case you get hungry. Now get out of here. And knock ’em dead. I’ll be back at one o’clock.”
    He packed me a snack.
    I give him my most girly wave and make my way to the elevators to the eleventh floor.
    “You must be Jules,” the receptionist says when I walk in. She’s a curvy fifty-something woman with warm eyes and a sweet smile.
    “I am,” I tell her.
    “Mr. Dunham is on a call, but let me show you to your desk. I’m Rhonda, by the way.”
    “Nice to meet you,” I say, extending my left hand. “I’m ready to work.”
    “So I heard about your hand, you poor thing. Are you sure you’re ready to work?”
    “Are you kidding? I’m chomping at the bit. Plus, I type extremely fast. So without this,” I hold up my right hand, “I’m still about average. There will be no issues, I promise.”
    Okay, let’s not overdo it, skipper.
    “Oh hun, I’m not worried about that. I just don’t want you working in pain.”
    We walk past a section of cubicles and a row of offices, all decorated in earth-tone colors and accented with warm wood, until we get to the end of the offices with windows.
    I follow Rhonda into a large cubical area equipped with a phone, laptop, and a ton of office supplies. The side walls are gray partitions and the back wall is open, but the inside faces floor-to-ceiling windows, looking over the city.
    “Whoa.” I want to kick myself when I let the childish word slip out. “Is this really my area?”
    Rhonda laughs and pats my back. “Sure is, honey. Mr. Dunham wanted you to be comfortable this summer. He also wanted you close to his office, which is right over there.” She points behind her back.
    Rhonda shows me how to work the phone system, gets me hooked up on the office email and intranet, then she takes me around to tour the rest of the office before depositing me in a large conference room for the Monday staff meeting.
    And that’s when I see him.
    The Viking from the other night. The guy Foster hit. The guy who ripped my tights. The guy who fell on me and broke my hand.
    Holy hell in a handbasket.
    The Viking’s eyes meet mine and grow wide. He’s wearing a navy suit and looks more incredible than he did the night at the bar.
    I feel his gaze rake over my body before settling on my cast. His eyebrows pull together and his lips tighten in a straight line. Thankfully, Mr. D. interrupts the awkward moment.
    “Jules,” he says with a handshake. “Welcome.”
    “Thank you,” I tell him. “I’m happy to be here.”
    “Sorry to hear about your hand. Your friend says you had a bit of a fall last week.”
    “I did,” I say as the Viking spills his coffee all over the conference table.
    “ Shit,” he mumbles as if forgetting where he is. “Sorry, Mr. Dunham. Sorry, guys.” He rushes to get a roll of paper towels in the cabinet to clean his mess.
    “Typical Monday around here.” Mr. D. laughs. “Nobody’s quite right until they’ve had at least two cups of coffee.