Not the Boss's Baby. Sarah M. Anderson
interning in each department, from the age of sixteen on. Outside of my studies, I had to clock in at least twenty hours every week at the brewery.”
“That’s a lot of work for a teenager.” True, she’d had a job when she was sixteen, too, bagging groceries at the local supermarket, but that was a matter of survival. Her family needed her paycheck, plus she got first crack at the merchandise that had been damaged during shipping. She kept the roof over their heads and occasionally put food on the table. The satisfaction she’d gotten from accomplishing those things still lingered.
His smile got less relaxed, more cynical. “I learned how to run the company. That’s what he wanted.” She must have given him a look because he added, “Like I said—I wasn’t given any choice in the matter.”
What his father had wanted—but not what Chadwick had wanted.
The car slowed down and turned. She glanced out the window. They were near the office. She felt like she was running out of time. “If you had a choice, what would you want to do?”
It felt bold and forward to ask him again—to demand he answer her. She didn’t make such demands of him. That’s not how their business relationship worked.
But something had changed. Their relationship was no longer strictly business. It hadn’t crossed a line into pleasure, but the way he’d touched her on Monday? The way she’d touched him yesterday?
Something had changed, all right. Maybe everything.
His gaze bore into her—not the weary look he wore when discussing his schedule, not even the shell-shocked look he’d had yesterday. This was much, much closer to the look he’d had on Monday—the one he’d had on his face when he’d leaned toward her, made the air thin between them. Made her want to feel his lips pressing against hers. Made her want things she had no business wanting.
A corner of his mouth curved up. “What are you wearing on Saturday?”
“What?”
“To the gala. What are you wearing? The black dress?”
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