the first thing he needed to do was let her wonder where she stood.
Anna Cross would find out the hard way not to play chess with a master.
Somehow, Anna made it through to Monday morning, but the magic of Saturday night seemed as far away as London when she tucked her handbag into her desk drawer and turned on the computer for the day.
“I didn’t expect to see you here today.” The receptionist appeared from the tiny galley kitchen that the Garrison executives shared, an empty coffeepot in hand.
“Of course I’m here,” Anna said.
“Thought you might make a week of it across the pond.” Sheila added a British accent to the last three words, and tempered the tease with a wink. “There were a few early calls this morning. The editor from Luxury Travel magazine called about the layout he’s doing.”
“Okay,” Anna said, jotting a note. “Anything else?”
“The secretary at the charter-jet company called this morning to make sure Mr. Garrison and Ms. Cross had a pleasurable trip.” Her voice was rich with implication and accusation. “So. Did you?”
“You can let them know that it was fine, thank you.”
“You’re holding out on me.” Sheila laughed lightly. “Come on, spill the beans. Is he as demanding in bed as he is in the office?”
Anna managed a very disgusted glare, even though the memory of the moment he’d walked into her bedroom was still vivid. He could have demanded, and she might not have fought him. But he hadn’t. And she’d barely slept once he’d backed out of the door, leaving her absolutely aching for more.
“Sorry to disappoint, Sheila. It was all business.” Unfortunately. Fortunately. Oh, God, she was so confused.
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” She beckoned Anna with the coffeepot and a very sympathetic smile. “Come here while I brew the mud. You look like you could use a friend.”
Was it that obvious? Parker’s distant coolness on the flight home had been a double-edged sword. It cut her because he was so icy, but it relieved her to know she could go back to work and a few steamy kisses had caused no real harm.
Obviously, he’d had a chance to think over the recriminations of an office affair and had decided she was too good an assistant to lose.
Or maybe he didn’t want her.
The thought made her stomach squeeze with a sense of disappointment she had no right to feel. But he’d left her so confused. He’d hardly said six words to her on the flight, and three were See you tomorrow.
“Ever get involved with your boss before, Anna?” Sheila’s question yanked her back to the present.
“No,” she answered honestly. The boss’s biggest rival, yes. And hadn’t that turned out great? “It would be beyond dumb,” she added.
Sheila rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. I used to be a Playmate, did you know that?”
The entire company knew Sheila had worked as a bunny at the now-defunct Miami Beach Playboy Club. “I’ve heard that.”
“Got all tight with one of the managers in the operation.”
Anna wasn’t entirely sure she wanted this much information, but couldn’t help asking, “What happened?”
“What always happens,” Sheila said with a world-weary exhale. “He got laid and I got canned.”
“Oh.”
Sheila nodded knowingly. “But, hey, it was fun while it lasted. That guy could…” She shook her head while she measured the coffee. “Let’s just say he taught me some tricks that every girl should know.”
“Would answering the phone be one of them?” Parker’s voice was thick with sarcasm, eliciting a tiny gasp of surprise from Anna and a snort from Sheila. “Because my line just bounced from the main switchboard to voice mail after ringing about fifteen times.”
Anna blinked at his tone. “Sorry, Mr. Garrison.” She looked him directly in the eye as she passed through the narrow doorway and managed not to brush one fiber of his thousand-dollar suit. “I’ll get your phone.” She added some steel in her voice as she hustled toward her desk just as the next line rang.
“Mr. Garrison’s office.” His name rolled off her tongue, flipping her stomach as the sight of him had done. This was why people shouldn’t get involved at work. Forget what happened to her in the past. She couldn’t even say his name without causing a mental meltdown.
“Hello.” The voice on the phone was low, rich, female and unfamiliar. “I want Parker Garrison.”
Get in line, Anna thought wryly. “May I tell him who is calling?”
“This is Cassie Sinclair Garrison, returning his call.”
Anna corralled her scattered thoughts. Cassie Sinclair… Garrison? She was using the name now? That would put Parker in a fine…finer mood. She turned just in time to see him heading into his office.
“Mr.—” She blew out a half breath. What did she call him now? Every time she said Mr. Garrison, they’d both think of his “warning” kisses. At least, she would.
“Who is it, Anna?” he asked, pausing at his door.
“Cassie Sinclair.” No need to have him fume at her because his illegitimate half sibling was using her father’s name. Let him find out on his own.
The color drained slightly from his sculpted cheekbones. “I’ll take that call.” He disappeared into his office, and closed the door with a definitive click, making her feel as shut out as he had on the plane when he’d slept or read the entire flight.
Behind her, Anna got a whiff of Sheila’s spicy perfume.
“Not that it’s any of my concern,” she said, hitching a lazy hip against the arm of the guest chair. “But my experience tells me if you don’t clear the air, then whatever is ricocheting off you two is going to do both of you in. And you’ll cave first, darlin’.”
“Nothing is ricocheting,” she insisted. Except her heart. Why was he treating her like this? Would it be different if she had slept with him? Was he mad at her for saying no, or at himself for being…a man?
And what a man he was.
“Just clear the air, sweetie,” Sheila said, giving Anna’s hand a friendly pat. “Tell him you’re sorry you did or you didn’t, but don’t lose your job over it if you can help it. No man’s worth a paycheck, trust me.”
As if she didn’t already know that. “Thanks for the advice.”
Sheila winked. “Anytime. And anytime you want to share the gory details…” She pointed toward the closed office door. “I bet that stud knows a few tricks, too.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Anna said, her professional demeanor as secure as the button that held her modest
