Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Tim blinks as he quickly grasps my predicament. With a kind expression on his face, he gently tugs me to my feet. I only spend a moment tottering before I quickly regain my balance. Thank goodness for all the ballet and gymnastics lessons I took when I was younger!
“If you’ll follow me?” Tim gestures me to the inner door and I quickly walk through, following him down a long, wide hallway.
He finally stops at a door near the end and I step inside, taking another deep breath to steady my nerves before curving my lips seductively. My smile falls off quickly. The office is empty. I stop, frowning, and quickly scan my surroundings again, taking in the small grouping of white leather upholstered chairs around a low table in the corner, the desk by the large window and a few doors, all currently closed. Nope, still no Uncle C. Where is he?
Tim moves around me to the desk. “You can take off your coat and hang it on the coat rack in the corner. Why don’t you take a seat and we can get started?” He slides behind the desk and sits down in the mesh office chair. Another, similar-looking one rests next to it.
Wait, this is Tim’s office? “I don’t understand, where is Unc—Mr. Romano? I’m supposed to be working for him.”
Tim frowns slightly. “I’m sorry, but that isn’t true. You’re to be my assistant, Willow, not Mr. Romano’s.”
My heart sinks and panic sets in. How am I supposed to prove how grown up I am now if I won’t even have a chance of seeing my man, much less working with him? I see all my carefully worked plans going up in flames. “There’s been a mistake. My father told me I was working directly with Mr. Romano.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Romano told me himself that you would be working directly with me, there’s been no mistake.” Tim gestures to the chair next to him and says, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Why don’t you sit down and we can go over your job responsibilities?”
I stand there frozen, thoughts whirling through my head. This won’t work. If I’m going to convince Con that I’m the woman for him, we need to be working side by side. How else will he be able to slide his hand underneath my skirt to check out my thigh-high stockings? How else will my perfume drive him so wild that he bends me over his desk? How else will I make that damn stubborn man fall in love with me?
“Is something wrong?”
I glance up at Tim, whose nice face has taken on a pinched expression. I give myself a hard, internal shake. Get your act together, woman, or you’ll be fired before you get to visit the company cafeteria. I slap on a bright smile. “No. Sorry. I was just taking in the layout of the office so I could figure out the most efficient way to get around.”
Tim arches a nicely shaped eyebrow as if he can’t believe I just spewed that bullshit, but I’ll prove to him that I can be an ace assistant.
I take off my coat and hang it on the coatrack and hustle over as fast as my stilettos allow and plop my ass down. “I’m ready,” I say, putting a high-beam smile on my face.
Tim gives me a once-over before slowly dropping into the chair next to mine. “Okay, as you should already know, your position is mainly to cover me while I’m on vacation for two weeks.” He pauses and waits for me to nod my understanding. Yes, my dad had explained that this position wasn’t permanent, but that’s fine—what I’m ultimately angling for is to be part of Con’s personal life, not his professional one. “Let me show you how to registe—”
“Tim, I need the Hawkins file,” a rough voice growls through an unseen speaker. I shiver in my seat.
"He's a great guy," Tim reassures me as he gets to his feet, mistakenly reading my reaction as fear instead of arousal. "Sure, he sounds terse, but as long as you do your job, there won’t be any problems. Come on. I'll show you where the files are." Tim opens up a tall, heavy mahogany door to reveal rows of floor-to-ceiling cabinets. "He'll read emails on his phone, but all attachments will need to be printed out."
This is because he doesn't wear his glasses often enough. And he won't get contacts because he thinks it’s unnatural to get that close to one's eyeball. I don’t think he realizes how seriously hot he looks in glasses—the first time I saw him in them I creamed my panties.
"It's alphabetical in here, so you shouldn't have too much trouble finding the right file," Tim continues, stopping at a cabinet labelled H. It takes Tim only a couple of seconds to locate the folder containing the Hawkins folder.