Personal Assistant by Cara North Read Free Book Online

“Sexy.”
            “Interesting,”
he replied. “Glad you think I’m acceptable with the beard, Frankie because I
don’t have time to shave. Call Griffin and tell him to bring you something to
wear.”
            “Your
tux is already here, sir.” Professional,
just stay professional. He is your boss, he is not hitting on you, he is a
notorious flirt, and you should be so lucky to be this close to him. Keep it
together, Frankie, just keep it together.
            “I
know.” He poked his head around the corner. “But my date cancelled on me and I
don’t like going alone. You’re my assistant, Frankie, call Griffin, pick a
dress, and assist me.”
            Her
mouth dropped open. She couldn’t help it. Half of her was giddy with the
opportunity to go sit in the audience and watch the show. The other half was
paralyzed with fear.
            Apparently
he enjoyed keeping her off balance. He winked and said, “You’re wasting time.
We’ll be late.”
            Spurred
into action by the challenge she searched through her contacts, a whole new
list of people she didn’t know from Adam, for Griffin’s number. He was Jonas’s
personal stylist. By the time she explained the situation, the man was in an
uproar and apparently on his way. Before anyone arrived, Jonas was showered and
dressing.
            Jonas
popped a button on the insanely expensive white shirt and called for her. “Can
you fix it?”
            “Do
you have a sewing kit around here?”
            He
shrugged.
            Frankie
huffed in frustration. How could he not know? She located her purse and dug
into it for the tiny emergency kit with four pre-threaded needles and prayed
one of them was white.
            She
returned with the needle and thread and said, “Take it off. Let me see it.”
            His
eyebrow quirked and he bit his lower lip. “Don’t tempt me.”
            “Sir.” Frankie tried to sound frustrated but she sounded
breathless even to her own ears. He was flirting again. She could barely
contain her hormones when he gave her that look. Pulling herself together she
cleared her throat and demanded, “The shirt, please.”
            He
pulled the shirt off and handed it to her. She looked around the large bathroom
and settled her eyes on the commode. He pushed the lid down and she took a seat
while he washed his hands. Frankie was nervous. Sewing one of her buttons on a
shirt wasn’t a big deal, but sewing a button on a shirt that might cost as much
as her rent was a big deal. She was
careful in her stitches, her focus completely on the task at hand. Probably why she jumped at the sound of the doorbell. The
needle penetrated her finger and up off the commode she stood, tears
threatening her eyes. She pulled the needle from the offended finger. Holding
the needle and shirt in one hand she put the offended finger in her mouth and
tried to fight the urge to cry. It hurt.
            Jonas
calmly took the shirt from her hand, bit the string. He placed the shirt on the
sink counter and tossed the needle in the trashcan next to the sink. “Let me
see.”
            She
shook her head no. The doorbell sounded again.
            “You
don’t have time to tell me no, Frankie, let me see it.” He pulled her hand away
from her mouth, looked at it carefully, then pulled her finger up to his lips
and kissed the stinging tip. “There, all better, now.”
            Frankie
was sure the finger was not all better, but she was too distracted by the other
feelings now flooding her body to care. The doorbell rang again and she opened
her eyes wide in awareness. “Griffin.”
            She
took off running,
            “Be
careful, the floors are slick.” She heard him call after her.
            Frankie
made it to the front door and opened it to find a very peeved stylist and a
crew of three others.