The answer to that threatened to take him out of the Badass Zone so he decided not to dwell on it. His plan was in place, whether she was out of his system or not.

He looked at the time again. She’d been gone nearly two hours. Where was she? Maybe she wasn’t coming back after all.

The renewed idea sent him spiraling out of the B-zone and into panic mode. He stood up, ready to go out looking for her, when she meandered back into the office, sandwiches and drinks in hand. His heart settled at the sight of her. Then it quickly jolted into high-speed racing again because, well, she had that effect on him. Especially when her hair still looked tousled from earlier, and her cheeks had that glow from walking that mimicked the flush she’d had after she came.

Andrea cleared her throat. “Could you maybe help, please?”

He shook his head out of his stupor. “Oh. Of course.” He hurried toward her to help with her load, stopping at the line of tape that crossed his path. Not sure how things were between them, he glanced at her with a questioning brow.

“Yes, you can cross the tape, Blake. I can’t believe you’d even hesitate after … you know.”

He had to smile at that. He finished crossing to her, taking the sandwiches and bags of chips from her hands so she could handle the sodas. He set them on his desk, planning to turn back to her and deliver his prepared speech or at least ask her how she’d managed to carry everything up.

But before he could, she was next to him, setting the sodas alongside the sandwiches, her arm brushing against his, warming him to the very bone. Wakening the parts—or rather part—of him that had been put to sleep by his earlier planning. He cocked his head toward her, catching her eye.

“Andrea,” he began at the same time she said, “Blake.”

At the sound of his name and the lusty look in her eyes that he knew had to mirror his own, his speech and plans went out the window. In a blink, he was on her again.

It had been instinct, to take her into his arms, and she submitted to him as if it had been her idea. Her lips tasted as good as they had two hours before—a little less sweet, perhaps, a little more salty. Just as frantic. His hands were already searching beneath her shirt to find her plump breast. He pressed against her, pushing her toward his desk. There were no files of dating candidates over here, after all. That made this surface completely fair game.

But just as he leaned her back against it, she put her hands to his chest and pushed him back. “Wait, wait. Stop.”

Panting, he took a step back, his hands raised in surrender. “You’re right. This isn’t right.” Leave it to Andrea to have her wits about her. As disappointed as he was with her pronouncement, he had no cause to argue. “We have to stop.”

Andrea, who had turned away from him the moment he’d released her, swiveled back now to face him. “No, I was just worried about the drinks.”

He looked behind her, seeing she’d moved the sodas to the floor. “Oh.” That was surprising. Pleasantly surprising.

“But now that you’ve mentioned it…” She bit her lip.

Before he let his hopes dash, he clarified. “We shouldn’t be doing this?” It was a question he hoped he didn’t know the answer to.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that. We’ve already done it. Does it really matter now?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He tilted his gaze at her and rubbed his hand across his chin. It was obvious that Andrea’s long absence had given her time to sort out things on her own. Normally he wasn’t keen to listen to the opposition’s viewpoint, but he liked where she was going.

She reached up to straighten his tie, reminding him of the way she’d tugged him to her earlier. “I mean, obviously this … whatever this is”—she peered up at him from underneath her long lashes—“isn’t going to go away.”

He swallowed. “Interesting conclusion you’ve come to there.” Obvious conclusion she’d come to. And by obvious, he meant the same as his own. And if fooling around was cool with her, then why was it again that he was against it?

Not a damn good reason came to mind. He put a hand on her waist and started to tug her closer when she halted him once again.

“I’m not saying there aren’t things to discuss.”

He dropped his hands to his side. “You’re right. Very right.” What the hell was it about this woman that made him lose all sense of control? Whatever it was, he was getting it back now. And this time, he meant it.

He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, sit.”

“Ah, new chair. Nice. That was fast.” He tried not to notice her blush as she sat.

Blake moved to take his seat on the other side of the desk. This was good. They could talk things over while they ate. The barrier of the desk in between them should serve as some protection from their raging hormones. He scooted a sandwich toward her, indicating his intentions.

Seeming to understand, she bent to pick up the sodas from the floor and handed him one. In silence they unwrapped their sandwiches. He watched as her mouth opened for her first bite. Too many wicked fantasies flashed in front of his eyes. He had to address this now.

Setting down his uneaten pastrami on rye, he leveled his gaze. “I should apologize. My behavior as your employer has been unseemly.”

She paused mid-bite. “Yeah, you think?” Did she look pissed as she bit down for another mouthful?

Blake winced, fearing she meant that bite to look as menacing as it did.

Oh, well, he was going for it. “I don’t plan to apologize, however. I thoroughly enjoyed everything that happened today. I hope you did, too.”

With a chuckle, Andrea dabbed at the mustard on her lower lip. “Now, there’s the Blake I know,” she teased. She set her sandwich down. “I enjoyed it, too, if you really couldn’t tell.”

His heart skipped at her revelation. “I was hoping we could do that more often.” Where in the blazes had that come from? That certainly hadn’t been an option in the B-Zone. But now it was out there and he couldn’t deny its truth. He held his breath.

“We could definitely do that more often.”

He released it. Thank goodness. Now to revise the rest of his plan on the spot. Not a problem. He’d always been good at improvisation, hadn’t he? Yes, he thought. “Let’s discuss how this affects your position.”

Andrea gasped, her eyes wide and Blake knew instantly that he’d somehow said the wrong thing. Maybe he wasn’t so good at improv after all.

*   *   *

“Are you going to fire me?” A tight ball of dread and hurt and pure rage formed in Andy’s chest. “You can’t fire me. Not after that. Oh, my God, Blake. That’s not even a little bit right. In fact it’s a whole lot wrong. This was two-sided. You and me, Donovan. Got that? I’m sure there were company policies that have been violated by both of us, buster.”

She took a quick breath ready to spout off more when she realized Blake was shaking his head at her, an amused expression on his face. “Oh. Then yeah, I guess we could talk.”

Intending to give Blake her full attention, Andy relaxed back into her seat. But then, as she tried not to wonder if this new chair was sturdier than the last, a whole slew of other thoughts followed. Dirty thoughts. Delicious thoughts. Squeeze-her-thighs-together-and-bite-her-lip-so-she-wouldn’t-moan thoughts. And what exactly was wrong with those thoughts anyway? She’d already decided on her walk that she would have no regrets about what had happened. In fact, she unabashedly hoped what happened might happen again. And again. And again and again, even.

It wasn’t completely an absurd idea. Blake had even suggested it himself the other day. It was why she’d shown up on his doorstep, and after she’d had time to think about it, it seemed the man felt bad about his reaction the night before. At least, she hoped that’s what the flowers had been for and that she hadn’t been on the receiving end of a pity screw.