Play Thing. Nicola Marsh
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‘You’ve done a great job with keeping accurate records.’ She turned the computer screen towards him. ‘This is the program we use so whatever you need, don’t hesitate to get in touch.’
His wolfish smile revealed a row of startlingly white teeth. ‘Does that include calling you after hours?’
Her inner vixen did a little shimmy that he’d be remotely interested in her ‘after hours’.
Her inner accountant shut down that vapid vixen quick smart.
‘I’m available to answer your accountancy questions from nine ’til five.’
‘Pity,’ he said, his grin widening. ‘If you ever fancy a drink, drop by one of my pubs and the staff will let me know you’re around.’
‘Thanks.’ She stood to escort him to the door. ‘But I don’t mix business with pleasure. It’s unprofessional and you wouldn’t want someone like that handling your finances.’
He managed a rueful shrug while she hoped her nose wouldn’t grow from telling that whopping great lie.
Because she had mixed business with pleasure, even if she hadn’t known it at the time, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Worse, how it might feel to do it again.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said, waiting until the elevator doors had slid shut to toe off her shoes, pick them up and head to her office to pack up her things.
She’d almost reached her office when Alex’s door flung open and she jumped. ‘I thought you’d left with everyone else?’
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