He led the way out to the large alcove where she would work. He pointed out the wall of file drawers behind her desk that held most of his clients’ personal information and all the deals he was currently working on.
“Arranged in alphabetical order,” he added.
Remembering his comment to the HR manager, Trish smiled. “I assure you I’m familiar with the alphabet.”
He managed a rueful chuckle. “Let’s hope so, Ms. James.”
Trish grabbed a pad and took fast notes as he gave her a list of names of people whose calls he would always take, along with his cell phone number.
“While I’m gone, you can get your desk arranged, then I’ve left a cost analysis to be typed up, as well as some other letters and documents that need revisions. If you have time, you can start studying what’s inside those file drawers. I’ll need the Mansfield papers when I get back.”
Trish wrote everything down, then smiled. “I’ll take care of everything, Mr. Duke. You won’t be sorry.”
With a look that said he was already sorry, he said, “Call me Adam.”
“And please call me Trish,” she said.
“Right.” He looked at her for a moment, his mouth set in a skeptical scowl.
She smiled expectantly.
“Don’t forget the Mansfield papers,” he said finally, then strolled out of the executive suite, leaving Trish more shaken than she wanted to admit.
“That went well,” Adam muttered in disgust as he pounded the elevator call button. “Knucklehead.”
As he contemplated the attractive brunette who was now assigned to be his interim assistant, three things bothered him. First, the woman had been able to sneak up on him without him even noticing, and that never happened. He attributed his lack of awareness to his angry reaction to the news that his formerly invaluable assistant had run off and left him in a bind.
It had been obvious by her sardonic smile as they shook hands that Trish James had heard every word of his tirade over Cheryl’s untimely departure-and that was the second thing that bothered him. No one ever saw Adam Duke lose his cool. His control was legendary. Marjorie didn’t count. He’d known the woman for almost as long as he’d known his adoptive mother.
But now Trish James had seen him ranting like an idiot and that was never a good way to begin a working relationship-not that they would have that lengthy a working relationship, he hastened to add. He would need someone much more highly qualified to take over the position of executive assistant, not some refugee from the floater pool.
He immediately backed away from that thought. Marjorie was right, the floaters in his company were all good workers with great attitudes, willing to pitch in wherever they were needed. But Adam would need someone with top skills and experience, a self-starter and a go-getter with enthusiasm for the long work hours and a deft hand at dealing with his very demanding clients.
The third thing that bothered him was that she didn’t look like the usual matronly floater his company employed. Notwithstanding that mocking little grin, her mouth was a bit too wide and her lips too lush. Her almond-shaped, dark green eyes seemed to focus a little too knowingly on him. He’d noticed the confidence in her posture and the way she held her chin high, and found himself grudgingly admiring her. She seemed determined to make this work.
She wore her shiny, chestnut-brown hair pulled back from her face in a classic style, and her black, pinstriped pantsuit fit her tall, poised figure like a glove. He generally hated pantsuits on women, but hers wasn’t so bad. If his instincts were right, and they usually were, Trish James’s suit covered one fantastic set of legs.
His groin tightened uncomfortably at the thought and he smacked the elevator button again. Her touch had sent something hot and wicked blasting through him and Adam wasn’t about to encourage it.
But hell, every time she’d smiled up at him, Adam had felt his pulse spike. Her eyes had glittered with natural humor and her smiling lips were moist and full.
“And you hightailed it out of there like you were being chased by the town bully,” he muttered in annoyance as the elevator doors finally opened. Two tech guys exiting gave him a puzzled look, but he ignored them both as he stepped inside.
It was just as well that he’d rushed out of the office, he thought as the elevator descended to the lobby. It would’ve been a lot worse if he’d stuck around and she’d happened to notice the bulging evidence of his desire for her.
Adam rubbed his hand along his jaw in frustration. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t some hormone-driven kid out on a date with the prom queen. This was just lust, pure and simple, and easily conquered. He wouldn’t be led around by his libido. Ever.
Shoving open the private entry door leading out to the parking lot, Adam realized what this sudden attack of lust was all about. He’d been working day and night for months in anticipation of closing the Fantasy Mountain resort deal. He just needed to get the job done, then he needed to get laid. And not by one of his own employees, he added silently. There were any number of willing women he could call for a night of casual sex. And he would. As soon as he closed the deal.
As he jumped into the driver’s seat of the Ferrari, he remembered his earlier conversation with Brandon and Cameron. Something about Mom trying every trick in the book to set him up with a marriage-minded woman.
An image of Trish James flashed through his mind and Adam frowned. Okay, that was ridiculous. There was no way his mother had anything to do with Trish being hired. Yes, the timing was a bit coincidental, and Adam didn’t believe in coincidences. But the idea was ludicrous.
He turned the key and listened to the finely tuned, high-performance engine roar to life. It was beyond ridiculous to imagine his mother going to that much trouble. He realized that he was buying into Brandon’s paranoia and he shook it off.
But, meanwhile, he would do everything he could to avoid spending too much time with the gorgeous brunette who seemed destined, through no fault of her own, to make his calm and ordered life a living hell.
After a quick glass of water and a few cleansing breaths, Trish was ready to get to work. After all, she was being paid well and her work ethic was strong, so just because she was out to ruin the man didn’t mean she wouldn’t do a good job for him while she was here.
She started by exploring her new workspace. It was bright and spacious, just outside the doors to Adam Duke’s palatial office. Everything was big and impressive, befitting the executive assistant to the president and CEO of Duke Development International.
The cherrywood desk was almost as big as her apartment’s actual living room. And while it wasn’t quite as dramatic as the floor-to-ceiling view of the coast from Adam’s office, Trish actually had a view of the ocean from the window directly across from her desk. If she wasn’t careful, she could get used to all this extravagance. “But you will be careful,” she admonished herself. She wasn’t here to get comfortable, to enjoy any perks of the job. Just as she wasn’t here to sigh over Adam Duke like some starstruck teenager.
But really, why couldn’t the guy look like a troll?
“Let it go, Trish,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just get to work.”
Forty minutes later, after she’d finished revising Adam’s letters and documents and completed the cost analysis he’d left, Trish faced the file drawers. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for, but the faster she found something incriminating inside these drawers, the faster she’d be able to give up this sham job and be on her way. Maybe she would find what she needed today. That would certainly save her from weeks of turmoil, working side by side with the most delectable man on the planet.
“He even smells good,” she groused, recalling his subtle scent that reminded her of green forests and autumn rain. “You weren’t going to dwell on that, remember?”