I frown, confused. “I thought I already was working for you.”

“Not as Wolf Cove staff. As my personal assistant.”

“Your personal assistant,” I repeat, surprise numbing my senses.

“I lost my assistant recently, and I need someone to keep me organized. Someone I can trust. And, frankly, I need someone to take care of me. Look at this place; it’s a disaster.”

I scan the room again at his prompt. Aside from a few loose newspapers and empty dishes, I don’t see anything amiss. “What would you need me to do?”

“Basic admin work, like managing my calendar and e-mail, booking my meetings, booking excursions with investors and other important clientele that come in. Attend management meetings with me. Liaise with Belinda to make sure the grand-opening event goes smoothly. That is especially important. There will be a lot of media here.”

“I have no experience.”

“That’s not what you said in your interview. You worked in the church office, managing your reverend’s calendar and helping organize events, right?”

I laugh. “That’s nothing like what you’re asking me to do now!” A weekly coffee with Edith, the ninety-two-year-old organist. The first of the month food drive in the church basement. Not exactly on par with the CEO of a luxury hotel chain’s daily schedule, I’m sure.

He pops a grape into his mouth and chews slowly. “I called the Reverend. He spoke highly of you.”

“Reverend Enderbey? You called him?” I squeak. “When?”

“A few days after the job fair.”

“You wanted me back then?” His eyebrows spike and I replay my words in my head. “I mean, for this job,” I quickly correct, flushing.

He flashes the tiniest, most devilish of smirks, and my stomach flutters. I’m beginning to crave those smirks. “I began considering you for the position then, yes.” With slow, measured steps, he closes the distance to me, circling me. “I called your aunt, too. We spoke at length about your work ethic, your reliability, and your values.” There's a hint of mockery with that last piece, and I wonder if that has to do with his own lack of faith, or my poor demonstration of those values to date. “She told me all about your painful breakup with the Reverend’s son.”

“Wait a minute.” It dawns on me. “So, that night on the dock, you already knew who I was and that you’d hired me to be your assistant?”

Henry stops directly behind me, forcing me to turn around. I find him on the edge of my personal space, like a sly animal closing in on me. Confusion and wariness compete for my attention. What kind of game is he playing here?

“I hadn’t made my final decision yet and, honestly,” his steely blue gaze flickers to my mouth, “after that night, I wasn’t sure that you would be a good fit for me.”

Because I practically licked his neck and asked him to sleep with me. Will I ever live that night down?

“That’s why I took you out yesterday morning. I needed to spend time with you, sober, to make sure that this would work.”

“And you think it will?”

“Obviously.”

Obviously. “So, then... Hiring me for the outdoor team—”

“Was never going to happen. When I found out, I made Belinda change you in the system before you got here. There is no way I am putting you in there with those guys. It’d be like dropping a lamb into a pack of wolves.”

So Belinda was in on this from the beginning. That explains her lack of concern or compassion. “I can take care of myself,” I argue, feeling more than a little annoyed at being deceived all this time.

He reaches up to touch my braid, his fingers skimming down the length of it until he lets it fall. “Really? And what do you think would have happened to you that night, had one of them found you on the dock instead of me?” Amusement slides off his face, replaced with a hard look. “Drunk and broadcasting that you’re a virgin, your hands all over the guy’s chest, whispering in his ear... asking him to fuck you.” I gasp at his words, more inappropriate now than when I said them to him that night. “Your night would have ended with you bent over the table in the utility shed, I can promise you that. Most men don’t have the kind of control that I do, not when you dangle that kind of bait in front of them.”

What is he saying? That he needed to exercise control that night? Was I maybe not imagining things? Was this beautiful, sexy, all-consuming man in front of me considering acting on my request?

I push that thought aside because it no longer matters, if I’m going to be working as his assistant. And because it’s plain ludicrous. Still, I struggle to regain my composure. My voice wobbles when I speak. “What if I don’t want to take this job?”

Surprise flickers across his face. “You don’t want to work with me every day? I thought you were happy that I was staying.”

“No, that’s not... I’m not saying...” I stumble over my words. “I mean, what if I’m not convinced I can do this job?”

He smiles now. “I’m convinced you can do it. You’re smart. I think you know when to jump at an opportunity. Fake it ’til you make it, right? Or something like that.”

I did lie to get this job. Though, they saw through it immediately.

I nod. “So, administrative stuff?”

Another three heartbeats pass and then he moves past me and back toward the dining table and his coffee cup. I sense his demeanor shifting back to a more professional one. “And personal assistant help, too. I dragged a guy out of bed last night at midnight to dry-clean my suit because I didn’t get a chance to bring it down earlier. I need someone who’s going to be on top of those kinds of things for me.”

On top of dressing Henry? What about undressing Henry... I grit my teeth to keep the smile at bay. “That, I think I can do.”

His hand waves through the area. “And keeping this place in order, clean. I don’t let staff in here. I have too many confidential and private things lying around.”

“You don’t trust your staff?”

“No.” Not a moment’s hesitation answering that.

“But, why hire people you don’t trust?”

“I have my reasons,” he says, and I can tell he’s not going to elaborate. “But I do trust you.”

“Why?”

“Because my gut tells me that I can, and I make decisions based on my gut.” He pauses, his eyes dipping down over my outfit again, that thick fringe of lash a thing of beauty. “I’m your boss, and you’re my employee, and I know you won’t cross any lines. While you’re sober, anyway.”

So, again, it all comes down to sex. And women wanting him, perhaps. Spoken by any other man, I’d write him off as an egotistical douchebag. But it’s this man standing in front of me, and I’ve already seen and heard firsthand how his employees talk about him, like he’s a piece of meat they’ll do anything to sink their teeth into.

“This job means spending a lot of time with me. Being in my living space with me while I’m rushing in and out, getting ready for meetings and events. Putting up with me while things are stressful. Do you think you can handle that?”

I can’t ignore how my heart hasn’t stopped racing since he opened the door, or how the flutters of excitement have only increased with every word out of his mouth. Or how I keep inhaling deeply, to absorb the fresh, clean smell of him. Or how I keep replaying the feel of his arms around my body and his erection against my ass.

Is this a good idea? Am I setting myself up for constant frustration? I’ll probably become a champion masturbator by the end of the summer.

What’s worse, the way he asks it, it’s like he knows exactly what’s going through my head right now. I don’t want my boss to know that I’m attracted to him in a major way. A way I didn’t believe I could be. A way that has all but shoved Jed from my thoughts.

I have to clear my throat, afraid my words will come out shaky. “Exactly how much time?”

He levels me with a look. “I want you available to me day and night, unless I say otherwise. Some days will require more than others. Some early mornings, some late nights. You’ll be paid a flat salary that more than covers an hourly wage plus overtime.”