Savor: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel by Monica Murphy Read Free Book Online

one. Sitting a few feet away from me. The same woman who just so happens to work for me.
    And the only person I can blame is myself.
    Bryn
    M ATT SLAMS HIS office door with a finality that makes me jump in my chair. My heart racing, I rest my hand over my chest, feel it flutter against my palm like the furiously fast wings of a hummingbird. I hadn’t expected him to walk inside at that particular moment—with my butt in the air. I was searching through the file cabinet looking for an invoice I know I paid after just receiving a past due notice in the weekend’s mail.
    So embarrassing, him catching me like that. God.
    I found the paid bill. Had started ruffling around looking for something else, I can’t even remember what, when I heard him clear his throat. God, he’d surprised me. I’d nearly leapt out of my skin when I turned to find him standing there, looking as gorgeous as can be. Per his usual, if I’m being truthful.
    Not the way I wanted to make an impression. No, I’d planned on sitting behind my desk when I first saw him this morning. Calm, cool, and efficient, offering a bright “good morning” with an equally bright smile. Watch him stare at me in total shock.
    Well, I got the shocked stare, that was for sure. But I also noticed how his gaze had been zeroed in on my backside when I was bent over before it rose quickly to meet my eyes. He didn’t say anything about my change in appearance beyond the standard “you look nice.”
    Nice.
    How boring is that? Then he went on to ask if I had a nice weekend too, like nothing had changed, nothing was different. Not that I want him to be a slobbering idiot like my creeper old boss. But I thought I’d at least thoroughly impress Matt with the dress, the hair, the makeup, and the shoes.
    God, the shoes. They’re pinching my toes and I don’t think I’ve been here even an hour.
    I’d expected at least a “you look pretty” comment or something. Anything really.
    But it was the same old thing. Back to work. Gotta keep on it, we’re so busy, and I need you to work late, Miss James, blah, blah, blah. Just like his usual self.
    Instead of disappointment, I should be glad. I should be relieved and thankful he didn’t leer at me and tell me how sexy I looked and could he get a hand up my skirt or anything like that. My old boss spoke to me like that all the time. He literally asked if he could feel up my “titties” one afternoon. I really hate that word. I’d worked as his receptionist for two whole weeks when he asked that particular question.
    I’d been so surprised I’d politely told him, “I don’t think so.”
    I don’t think so. I’d been so naive and shocked, I’d even giggled when I said it, which probably gave him the wrong idea.
    That I’d willingly let him kiss me and touch my so-called titties within two months of that first request probably gave him the wrong idea too.
    Sighing, I rub my forehead, run my hand over my hair. I’d planned on wearing it down and decided at the last minute I couldn’t do it. The dress, the makeup, and the shoes were bad enough. The hair, my one crowning glory as my grandma always called it, would’ve made it more than obvious.
    My daily appearance as the drab, neutral Miss James is a complete facade. How I’m dressed at this very moment, I’m more like my old, sexy, too-pretty-for-her-own-good Bryn self.
    Shopping with Ivy and Marina had been so much fun though. Those girls ran me ragged all Saturday afternoon and into the evening. That little pregnant and supposedly exhausted Ivy was the fastest of us all, too. She pulled out so many things for me to try on, I’d been stuck in one dressing room after another, all over downtown St. Helena.
    I’d broken out the credit card and bought a few new pieces of clothing for work, this dress being one of them. Then they took me to a salon, and I got my hair cut. I can’t remember the last time I had it trimmed, and it felt so good to have it professionally