Oh, Ash. You have no idea what you do to me.
Every time I see her I’m wrecked, right from hello. This has been going on for years. But lately it’s gotten even worse, ever since Ash jumped me and I got a taste of just how good we are together.
As always, it takes me a second to push through the familiar feeling of being karate chopped by Cupid. “Nice outfit, Ashleykins,” I manage to snap. “But those jeans are snug, baby girl. It’s a great look, but how am I going to get them off you later when it’s time to bend you over the sideboard and have my filthy way with you?”
There’s a long pause and I think she’s actually considering it. Then Ashley gasps, and her cheeks redden further. “You cannot say things like that! We’re at work. Have you read the employee handbook? Does the term ‘hostile work environment’ ring any bells?”
This should be a perfectly valid point, and I have always respected a woman’s right to be the mistress of her own domain. Except for one little flaw in her argument. “Ashleycakes, the first time we ever had a conversation about this house, you ended it by unzipping my fly and swallowing my dick in Brynn’s pantry.”
Now the blush is creeping down her neck, and right into that delectable cleavage. I’m actually a little worried about spontaneous combustion. Good thing Tom showed me where he keeps the fire extinguisher in the coat closet. Safety first.
“We’re not in the pantry now,” she grinds out.
“Pity. That thing you do with your tongue really rocks my world.”
That’s when her head pops off and bounces down the brick portico stairs. Okay, not really. But the look on her face makes this seem possible.
“Stop. It.” She takes a deep breath. “Business, Braht. We need to talk business.”
“Fab,” I agree. “So let’s talk about three lockboxes that don’t work and a fourth one that requires water entry. I don’t suppose you have a set of waders in that cute little car you hid up the block?”
“Water entry?”
“The boathouse. You don’t think I descended from the chimney, do you? I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
Her perfect pink tongue appears in the corner of her mouth and her eyes go a little soft-focus. She’s remembering just how good I am with my hands. And my tongue.
I snap my fingers. “Focus, baby. Why don’t you work on this lockbox thing. Any idea how we can undo the damage?”
“Uh…” She shakes herself. “It must have been a miscommunication with…my intern.”
“Your intern?” What the actual fuck. Realtors don’t have interns.
But Ash is nodding rapidly. “Her name is Zelda. She’s young and inexperienced. She must have, uh, mistyped the codes I sent her. I’ll get her to fix it and then I’ll send you the new codes.”
Intern my ass. “Zelda, huh? Is she my type, too?”
“What do you mean, too? I am not your type, Braht.”
“You are the walking definition of my type, Ash.” I didn’t mean to say it so forcefully, but it’s just true. “And you don’t need to tell me about Zelda, because I’m sure I’ll meet her myself tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Ash blinks, as if maybe there’s an appointment she’s forgotten.
“Tomorrow,” I confirm. Then I drop the bomb I’ve been waiting to drop on her since I got the news three days ago. I needed to do it in person, because her reaction is going to be epic. “I’ve been transferred to your branch. We’re going to be office buddies.” I waggle my brows. It’s a thing I do. It’s a thing I do around Ash because it makes her squirm. And I love to make her squirm.
She sucks in a breath. “My…branch?” The look on her face is one I see often when she looks at me—an intriguing blend of lust mixed with horror. “You don’t mean…my branch of the company. At my…physical location.”
“Yes indeedy! I asked Bill to put our desks near each other, too. Because we’re working on this deal together. Corporate asked me to help get the revenue up at the Eastown branch. We’re going to be the power couple of Ernst VanderMollen Realty.”
“But…!” Her pretty face drains of color. She’s almost paler than the golden highlights in her hair. “You can’t do that! I’ve made Top Salesperson nine months out of the last twelve!”
Well, ouch. I hadn’t thought of that. “Sorry, honey bear. You’re going to have to share that trophy occasionally. It will be good for morale. The other kids need to see that success has more than one face.”
“You’re…this is a joke, right?” she whispers. “Good one, Braht. Well played.”
“It’s all too real, Ash. We’re colleagues now. Once the shock wears off, I’m sure you’ll remember how much you like me.”
“I do not. Like you,” she says, crossing her arms firmly.
“Then why do your nipples get so pointy whenever we speak?”
Ash lets out a shriek of indignation, and I have to duck as she takes a swing at me.
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Copyright © 2017 by Sarina Bowen and Tanya Eby
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Sarina Bowen, Man Hands 1
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