I roll my eyes and ignore the gratuitous comment. “Maria is our mobility team leader. She’s in charge of automated guided vehicle systems, mobile platforms, and mobile robots—the mechanical arms on wheels, in short.”

  Maria looks at Thomas from under her long, dark lashes. Could be because he’s so tall and she has no other option. But the way she’s sensually biting her lower lip tells me the move is deliberate. “Looking forward to working together, Mr. Mercer,” she purrs.

  “Please, call me Thomas,” he replies with a warm smile.

  And before Maria can fully swoon, I push him forward to our next stop. We make our way through the lab in a semi-circle, going station by station, exploring designs, and talking to people. When we complete the first half of the circle and before moving on to the second half, I bring Thomas to the center of the room.

  “This is Ari, our industrial robots team leader, she’s in charge of”—I mimic the robot-like movement with my arm—“all our static mechanical arms like the big guy in the center of the room.”

  Thomas turns to study our biggest robot. “What’s the development on this one?”

  “We’re trying to simplify his input system so that it will no longer be necessary to program space coordinates into the machine. Instead, we want to use AI-enabled 3D vision to perform location and mapping functionalities. In short, we want to turn it from a complicated numerical control machine into something even an idiot could use intuitively with no training needed.”

  “The new guy could probably help test that functionality.” The grating comment comes from our left, suspiciously close to Garrett’s station. I narrow my eyes at him while silence falls over the lab.

  Thomas zeros in on Garrett as well. “Excuse me—I didn’t catch your name, what was that you just said?”

  Everyone stops working, and all eyes turn to Garrett. He’s turned tomato red up to the tips of his ears, but he’s staring back at Thomas with an air of open hostility.

  You could cut the tension in the room as the two men square off with each other. I do my best not to roll my eyes at the measuring contest about to take place. That’s why I prefer to work with women; we don’t need to assert our dominance. But Garrett and Thomas look like two vicious wolves baring their teeth at each other, ready to fight for the role of alpha of the pack.

  Just when I’m panicking the staring contest will never end, Garrett speaks. “I said…” He spits the words out in irritation. “I said…” Under Thomas’s unyielding stare, Garrett caves. “Never mind.”

  Thomas waits another two full seconds, jaw tense before he acknowledges the other man’s submission with a terse nod.

  Garrett might be a good listener and a great problem solver, but an alpha he is not.

  Crisis averted, Thomas turns again to Ari. “Apologies for the interruption,” he says in a calm, friendly tone as if he hadn’t just turned the lab into an episode of Animal Fight Night. “Why don’t you walk me through the program?”

  Ari explains how we’re trying to make the robot follow simple pointing directions from position A to B, but also how the optic reading system is still getting confused, making the system unreliable.

  “Do you think it’s a hardware or software problem?” Thomas asks, proving maybe he’s not a total idiot.

  Ari sighs. “The hardware is state-of-the art; I’m afraid our programming isn’t keeping up.”

  They talk some more, and when they’re done, I check the time. We’ve been at this for three hours already. Guess we could all use a break and pause our tour of the lab until tomorrow. In reality, I want to avoid having to witness another incendiary interaction between Garrett and Thomas, since Garrett’s station would’ve been next in our path. Both of them will probably need at least a day to cool off. So instead, I ask Thomas, “How about we finish the tour tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, that seems like a good idea.” He catches my drift right away. I imagine he was so hard with Garrett to let everyone know he wouldn’t tolerate being made a fool of. But a good leader knows not to rub salt in the wound. A sour employee serves no one.

  Begrudgingly, I award Thomas a mental gold star for empathy.

  “Okay, I can share a web folder with you and put in the presentation and report on all our projects I was telling you about.”

  “Perfect.”

  Then another thought strikes me. “Are you keeping your office upstairs or are you moving down here?”

  Thomas looks around as if he hadn’t thought about it either. “I’d better move here. Get the full-immersion experience.”

  “Mmm, okay, my office is the only closed-off one. But I can leave it to you and transfer to a different workstation until you move on to your next rotation.”

  “Nonsense, I’ll have a second desk brought in,” he says with a sense of finality. “We can share.”

  9

  REESE

  Thomas leaves, to get a desk, to pack his stuff, to comb his perfect hair. Or do whatever it is rich, spoiled cover models do. I don’t care. With him gone, I can finally let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

  I cross the lab and shut myself into my office, enjoying the last few hours of peace before this space becomes a full-fledged co-ed.

  What a joke.

  It’s incredible how much a place can feel different in just a short few hours. Work used to be my sanctuary, my happy place, and now it’s a minefield. My preservation instincts should’ve kicked in, helping me to steer clear of Thomas Mercer’s exceptionally powerful gravitational field. But, so far, the only impulse that’s kicked in is the grab-the-boss-by-the-tie-and…

  No. No. Nope. Good thing we have a specific company policy against such interactions.

  Technically, he isn’t your boss, yet, a malicious voice whispers in my ear. There’s no policy against peer-to-peer relationships.

  But he will be the boss in fifteen months—same thing.

  I drop my head in my hands. Gosh, the next three months are going to be hell. But then Thomas Mercer will be someone else’s problem. Up until the point when he’ll become CEO. Then he’ll become a permanent complication. But at least then, we’ll have an extra layer between us. Emmet Proctor and I sure don’t talk every day or share an office. It’ll be manageable. A few review meetings, the odd interaction, the annual Christmas party…

  A very unpleasant kind of foreboding grips me. What if he shows up to the party with a beautiful plus one? Yuck. The idea shouldn’t be disturbing, but it is. Heck, I’m not even sure if he’s single right now—and I’m not going to google it. Better not to know. That Google probably has that information should be enough of a red flag. And he probably isn’t single, anyway. How can someone with a face like that be single?

  I shove the unsettling thoughts aside, dust my hands in a resigned move, and get to work. I create a shared folder for Thomas, find his company email in the directory, and grant him access. As I copy the presentation and report into the folder, I find comfort in the fact that it should take him a while to study them. At the very least until the end of the week, keeping our need for interactions to a minimum.

  Honestly, he wouldn’t even need to come here while he familiarizes himself with the projects. Thomas could study the reports alone in his private office. He should study on the upper floors—quieter there and easier to focus. Yes, I’ll suggest it.

  I’ve just closed the folder when someone knocks on the door.

  My pulse speeds up for no reason. “Come in.”

  “Hey, boss.” Maria pokes her head inside, and my heartbeat slows down.

  “Maria, what can I do for you?”

  She walks in followed by her sidekick, K-2P. “Nothing. I want to discuss Mr. Hottie McHunky.”

  “If you’re referring to our future commander-in-chief, we’ve already discussed him enough this morning.”

  Maria crosses the office and takes her usual spot perched on my desk. “But that was before we saw the real deal; that photo didn’t do him justice.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Why? You don’t think he’s more handsome in person than in his resume pic?”

  “No.”

  Sure I do, but I won’t admit it. If I give her rope, Maria will pull and pull and pull until the skin on both our hands is burned raw.

  “Well, I think he is even hotter in person,” she says, unabashed. “I like his eyes; don’t you think they’re smoldering?”

  “Smoldering?” I shake my head. “You read too much smut.”

  “Smut is never too much, and I have no problem admitting when a guy is exceptionally sexy, broad-shouldered, very tall, with a tight butt that just begs to be grabbed and squeezed⁠—”

  “Maria!”

  “What? You don’t appreciate well-rounded buttocks? The way that suit was hugging his behind should be outlawed!”

  “That is no appropriate way to talk about a co-worker,” I deflect, trying not to picture exactly how well that suit hugged his behind. “And Thomas Mercer isn’t my type.”

  “He’s not, huh?” Maria widens her eyes in fake shock. “I never would have guessed.”

  “This isn’t a joke, Maria. He’s not my type and we shouldn’t discuss his anatomy in any capacity. What if a colleague made a comment about your butt?”

  “Fair point.” She raises her hands. “And if he really isn’t your type.”

  “He’s not.”

  Maria frowns. “Hey, it’s dark in here. Why are all the blinds down?” Her lips curl into a wicked smile. “Are you already planning to lure the boss into torrid desk sex?”

  “What did I just say?”

  She smirks innocently. “I wasn’t discussing anatomy.”

  I roll my eyes. “I pulled the blinds down when I changed earlier.” I don’t tell her about the striptease and Thomas walking in on it because I’m still her boss. I need to maintain a shred of dignity.

  “The new boss walked in on her mid-strip,” K-2P rats me out. “It was hilarious.”

  I glare at the droid.

  “Hubba hubba. Did he see you naked?”

  I cover my eyes with a hand and drag it down my face. “He got a peek of underwear.”

  “Ah, now a lot of things make sense.”

  “What things?”

  “Why he couldn’t get his—smoldering—eyes off of you. You must’ve made an impression.”

  “Yeah, the impression of a dumbass who almost flashed her boss! And he wasn’t looking at me in any way.”

  “I beg to disagree, boss. Thomas Mercer was totally checking you out the entire time. He gave you the look.”

  “He gave me a look because we were talking and to look at someone while they speak to you is the polite thing to do. No way he finds me hot.” I point at my baggy hoodie as incontrovertible proof of my non-hotness.

  “Agree to disagree.” Maria hugs herself. “You’re smokin’ hot, even with lumpy clothes on.”

  “That’s not what I need to hear right now.”

  “Just try to be cool, I’m sure he won’t hold the striptease against you. The guy seems very laid-back for a rich dude. None of that snobbery, or looking down his nose at the rest of us. But he’s also confident, self-assured.” Maria fans herself with her hands. “Did you see the way he squared off with Garrett? My panties were about to drop from the sheer masculinity of it. Don’t tell me you didn’t find the staring contest hot as hell.”

  Even if I want to confess that, yes, I found the silent power play incredibly sexy, I’m not going to. I can’t afford to entertain such thoughts about my future boss, let alone voice them out loud.

  “Maria, stop,” I chide. “He’s going to become our boss next year, it’s not appropriate to speak about him like that.”

  “All right, I’ll stop if you admit he’s even more handsome in person than he is in his photo.”

  “Who’s more handsome in person than his photo?” a baritone voice asks.

  Heart beating in my chest, I raise my gaze and find Thomas leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed, dimpled smile fully weaponized.

  I swallow. What are the chances he didn’t hear us discuss his panties-melting superpowers?

  10

  THOMAS

  The blush on Reese’s cheeks is adorable.

  “No one,” she says.

  I stare at the other woman with black hair, black clothes, and black lipstick, summoning her name and title from our earlier introduction. Maria, head of mobility. She stares at me with a saucy smile, not even a hint of color on her cheeks.

  I won’t get anything out of her, so I turn to my only ally in the room. “K-2P, who were the ladies discussing?”

  “Maria was trying to get Reese to admit you look better in person than in your CV picture, and they were also trying to determine if you have smoldering eyes.”

  I chuckle. “Is that all?”

  “No, this morning they were discussing how handsome you looked in your picture, but also speculating that to compensate, you probably have a small⁠—”

  With the reflexes of a ninja, Reese launches herself at the droid and flips a switch on his dome, silencing him.

  “A small brain,” she huffs, clearly rattled.

  The droid rebels and wheels backward, emitting a series of angry beeps. With his clawed hands, he flips the switch back on. “You turned off my vocal effector, that’s rude.”

  “Repeating parts of private conversations you overheard is even ruder.”

  “No one had sworn me to secrecy.”

  “Don’t play dumb now; you don’t need to be told when something is private, K-2P.”

  I clear my throat to stop the human-machine argument. Reese’s eyes snag on me again. A defiant flame burns in their amber depths. If that isn’t the definition of smoldering, I don’t know what is.

  I drop the eye-lock and turn to the head of mobility. “Maria, would you mind giving Reese and me a moment alone?”

  The brainy goth hops off the desk and, gazing at the floor—to hide an amused smirk, I suspect, more than because she’s mortified—scurries past me out the door. She stops only to beckon K-2P to follow. “Come on.”

  The robot glides after her. “Yeah, I prefer to go where I’m respected and appreciated.”

  Once they’re out, I shut the door behind me and take the seat opposite Reese. I don’t talk right away. I let her roast a little. She’s been acting all haughty and proper with me so far, but I’m happy to discover her naughtier side extends past office private dances.

  Intrigued is the right word.

  “Just so we’re clear,” I say after a while. “I don’t have a small… brain.”

  Reese looks like she’s trying to suppress a groan of mortification.

  “In fact,” I continue. “No one’s ever complained about my… brain.”

  Now she actually groans. “Can we just not?”

  I flash her a smirk. “What, discuss my brain?”

  Her already-red cheeks veer toward purple now. “It’s not appropriate.”

  “Oh. You can discuss my brain with a colleague, but if I discuss it with you, it’s suddenly inappropriate?”

  “Listen, I’m aware our introduction earlier has been unconventional. That I basically said hello, meet my boobs.” She mimics grabbing the lapels of a jacket and pulling them open. I have to do my best not to let the memory of the very gesture get to my, well, brain. “But you’ve been sort of flirting with me all day, and that makes me uncomfortable.”

  I give her a serious look. I’m not a jerk; I don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable around me. “If that’s the case, I apologize. I thought you were flirting back.”

  She levels me with a hard stare. “I wasn’t, and I’d like to keep our interactions from now on strictly professional.”

  I study her for a second, not sure if she’s serious or in denial. “You haven’t felt a spark between us?”

  She takes a moment too long to reply. “No.”

  I raise my hands. “My apologies, then. I promise I won’t tease you anymore. But if you change your mind, please proposition me any time.” I add a wink.

  “You’re doing it again.” She scowls. “Winks are not work-appropriate interactions.”

  “Sorry, sorry, I’m just not used to—” I stop before I come across like a total moron.

  Too late. Reese rolls her eyes. “To women not falling at your feet enraptured with gratitude that you shed your light on them? Sorry, for me, looks or money count for zero.” She taps a finger on her temple. “For me, it’s all about the brain.”

  I guffaw at that. “All about the brain, huh?”

  She throws her arms in the air, exasperated. “Not that brain. Actual gray matter.”

  “All right, Campbell.” I extend my hand across the desk. “Friends?”

  “I’d rather we stuck to colleagues.”

  I tilt my head. “Friendly colleagues?”

  She lets out a huffy puff of air and shakes my hand. “Friendly colleagues it is.”

  Friendly is good. Definitely an improvement on the mixed signals I’ve gotten so far.

  “I’ll get out of your hair.” I stand up. “Please don’t be too crushed I’m leaving.”

  She gives me a fake-sweet smile. “I won’t.” She pointedly goes back to staring at her screen, which is opened on her desktop and not a work file if I’m right.

  I make to leave but stop on the threshold. “Oh, and hey, Campbell?”

  She glares at me.

  “If you’re ever in a jam, feel free to pick my brain whenever you like.”

  Reese glares at me, narrowing her eyes. “Seriously?”

  I raise my hands. “Sorry, couldn’t resist a last one. I’ll be a good boy from now on, I promise.” I knock on the frame of her door. “See you tomorrow, Campbell.”

  11

  REESE

  Tuesday morning, I find myself in the unusual position of dreading going to work for the second day in a row. At least today I’m not squeezed into chafing clothes.