Womanizer

She has a small pregnant belly and manages to make it look as if carrying a child and working full time is as natural as breathing.

I nod and smile at her.

“Go right in.” She clicks a button on the desk and a beeping sound comes from the shiny silver doors as they roll open.

I walk inside.

He’s already on his feet, like all the times I found him on the terrace, as if he’s waiting for me.

Our eyes meet, and that name echoes through my body like a little earthquake starting in the center of my chest and amplifying outward like a ripple.

Callan.

“Livvy.” His voice sounds gravelly as he shoves his hand in his pocket and watches me walk forward.

I feel awkward.

I miss my mailman. He looks so intimidating right now. I tug on my skirt and jacket and go drop down on one of the two chairs in front of a huge modern desk.

His office is eternal, never-ending, three walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. The wall next to the doors has the biggest screen I’ve ever seen, composed of dozens and dozens of small screens, ticking with stock numbers and Bloomberg news.

He doesn’t take the seat behind his desk. Instead, he leans his arms against the chair and stands behind it, looking at me with a devilish grin. “I assumed you’d appear in a red dress to test me.”

“Somebody should. You wear what you like, but every employee here can’t. It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.” He walks around the chair and finally drops down, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. “I’ve learned the value in discipline to get me right where I am, on the top floor and a few steps ahead of the pack.”

He’s so hot.

And very unscrupulous, Olivia!

And your boss.

I don’t want to think of how much I miss the twinkle in his eye or the way he used to smile in amusement at me.

Or the way he felt when he moved inside me.

We both stare from opposite sides of the desk and I wonder if he’s thinking about it too. Even the way he sleepy-fucked me.

“Lincoln tells me the Alcore proposal was your idea.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting him to send it over. I just e-mailed it Sunday.”

“Well, he did. And I’m impressed.”

Despite myself, my heart does a little leap of joy.

“He’s pleased with your work,” Callan says.

“Thank you.”

“So I’ve been putting some thought into this.” His chair creaks as he shifts and strokes his chin with his thumb. “Tahoe asked me to take you under my wing at Carma, said that you wanted to learn. And I think the best way for you to do that is to finish your internship as my assistant.”

I’m shocked into silence. Confused at first, then scared, then a little flattered.

He explains, “Ivonne is taking her maternity leave early, and I’d really like you to step up and step in.”

A thousand nervous little pricks run inside my body. I shift restlessly in my chair. “Well I don’t know that I want to leave Mr. Lincoln.”

“You don’t want to leave Mr. Lincoln,” he repeats.

“It’s just that he’s very disorganized on his own. He needs someone to help him organize his thoughts,” I explain.

He looks vaguely amused for a second then deeply frustrated the next. Finally he seems amused again, and he adds, “I will be sure that Mr. Lincoln has someone very capable of helping him organize his thoughts.”

His eyebrows rise as he waits for me to say more.

Obviously he expects me to say yes. Maybe even do a happy dance right here in my chair. But the mere thought of being close to him makes me uneasy. Something tells me Callan is going to push me to my limits.

I know down to my bones it won’t be easy with Callan Carmichael at all.

Because he’s so goal-oriented and so cold in his business dealings.

And also because deep beneath that hot designer suit, there’s still that very real human guy I had sex with, and that might be the most disadvantageous thing of all. I have a freaking soft spot for that guy, my mail guy. I opened up to him, I . . . wanted him. And he’s not the guy I thought he was.

This second, as I look at the guy across the desk from me in a white shirt and gray slacks, his handsome face reserved, I feel only confusion because I want to open up to him again, and at the same time, I want to run as fast and far away from him as my legs and these slick corporate heels will take me.

“Why do you do this?” I ask him, pointing at the stock tickers on the screen.

“Why do you?” he counters.

“Tahoe is the one who made me so interested in business. My family wasn’t always rich. My parents were struggling, and Tahoe was always working at the oil rigs, until he met a guy with a struggling oil lease, and he invested the little he had, bought his first lease and rig, and helped the man out. Three years later he’d struck a gold mine, made his partner rich, and became independent on his own.

“I saw what he did for my parents, giving them a sense of financial security they’d never had. It intrigued me and made me want to do the same, not for me or my family, since we’re taken care of, but for others. Finding ways to bring their businesses back to a full working state.”

“And I do this because I’m good at it. I’m the best at it. FYI.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so cocky it’s almost sexy.”

His eyes glint playfully. “Almost?”

I frown. “Almost.”

He grins back at me. “Do I get a yes now, as I am almost sexy when I’m cocky? I can be very persuasive too,” he says.