Stay with Me Forever. Farrah Rochon
subtle drop in pitch of his already decadently deep voice caused a million butterflies to take flight in her belly. Her body reacted to the mere memory of hearing that voice. She could still feel it on her skin, the goose bumps that rose as he whispered the sexiest words imaginable into her ear as his body slowly entered hers.
Paxton sucked in a deep breath. She could not do this to herself. Would not.
There was too much at stake to get distracted by Sawyer and his seductive voice, or the subtle dip in his chin that begged for her tongue to lick at it, or those deep brown bedroom eyes that saw too much. She needed to remain focused. She had a coworker back in Little Rock who tried to show her up every chance he got. Clay Ridgely was on a mission to take Paxton’s spot as the leading project manager, and she’d be damned if she let him do it.
That’s why she was determined to ignore the hormones spinning around inside her. She had too much riding on this project to allow anything to get in the way of it, especially an out-of-control libido.
With a will she didn’t realize she possessed, Paxton reined in her body’s reaction to him and focused on the myriad reasons why it was important they keep things strictly professional.
“It’s obvious I will have to set some ground rules on how things will work over these next four weeks,” she said.
“Ground rules?”
“Yes,” Paxton answered. “We are here to do a job, and that’s the only thing I plan to discuss while we’re here. This conference room is small enough. We don’t have any room for our personal lives to invade it. Are we clear?”
“No,” he said.
Her head jerked back. “Excuse me?”
“I disagree. I think it would be better for both of us if we tackled this issue head-on instead of allowing it to hover over us.” He shrugged. “Like you said, this place is small. We don’t have room for that eight-hundred-pound gorilla you refuse to talk about.”
Just the knowledge that they were both thinking about those hours they spent together caused a tingling sensation to travel up and down her back.
This would be a long four weeks.
But she would get through it. There was no way she would allow that one ridiculously delicious indiscretion she’d succumbed to one night several years ago to derail her plans.
“I’m here to do a job, Sawyer,” Paxton repeated. “And so are you. Unless it has something to do with this project, I have no intentions of discussing it. End of story.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin just a touch. “Now, I’ll ask you again. Are we clear?”
His eyes bored into hers with an intensity that made her breathless. Finally, thankfully, he relented. Hunching his shoulders, he said, “Fine. You’re the boss.”
Those words, coming from his mouth, set off a different reaction within her, one of pride.
She was the boss. Her. Little Paxton Jones from the wrong side of Landreaux Creek.
What she wouldn’t give to go back in time, to return to that reticent, unsure girl she was twenty years ago. The girl who’d secretly longed for the man standing across from her, just as every other girl had. Back when he was the star quarterback, student body president and the most handsome human being to grace the hallways of Gauthier High School.
Paxton wondered what that girl’s reaction would be if she told her that she would one day be the boss of Sawyer Robertson. Her teenage self would likely laugh and give her a snide get real sneer.
But that’s okay. Because this Paxton knew better.
“Good,” she said to Sawyer with a curt nod. “Now that we’ve established that, would you please consider switching desks with me? I really want that spot by the window.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “It’s only fair that I get to keep it. If you knew you wanted a certain desk, you should have gotten here early enough to claim it.”
She stopped just short of growling, but Paxton decided not to push him on it. This was a battle not worth fighting. In fact, it was probably for the best. Without the beautiful view of Heritage Park to distract her she would be more inclined to keep her head down and work harder. This phase of the flood protection project was slated to last for four weeks, but the quicker they worked, the quicker it would be over.
And the quicker she could get away from all this temptation.
As she went about setting her things out on the table that sat underneath a portrait of an old patriarch of the Gauthier family, Paxton laid out the ground rules.
“My team at Bolt-Myer has spent the past six months designing the initial concept package. The next four weeks are basically a state-required bridge between the concept proposal and the design phase, with an out-of-town trip to tour another flood protection system scheduled toward the end of this phase.
“A detailed report of the ICP has been at the courthouse for residents to review since mid-September. The only thing we have to do is present it at the stakeholders’ meeting in a few weeks and address resident concerns, review whatever questions have been posted to the website we set up for public input and finalize the preliminary implementation plan.”
“You don’t have to explain, Paxton. This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve worked on enough public–private partnerships to know how this works.”
She turned and faced him. “Well, I just want to make sure you understand how a project that I’m managing works. We have a timetable that we need to stick to in order to get this done on time, and I intend to adhere to it. Are you on board with that?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Good, then let’s get to work.”
* * *
It had been nearly four hours since Paxton arrived at the office, but it had taken Sawyer less than twenty minutes to get a clear picture of what the next four weeks would be like for him.
Pure. Unmitigated. Torture.
Even though she sat on the opposite side of the conference room, he was acutely aware of her every move. Every key she hit on her computer, every time she moved her chair the barest inch, every second she took a damn breath. He felt it all. And it was both intoxicating and agonizing.
His body was still suffering the effects of the jolt it had received when she’d walked through the conference room door, her slim black skirt gently hugging her delicately curved hips. The impact of staring into those rich hazel eyes again hit him with the force of a tornado. Her hair was shorter than it was the last time he’d seen her. The pixie cut made her cheekbones even more pronounced. She was the entire package: beauty, brains and just enough sass to drive him wild.
His aunt Lydia would say this was his just due for making a sexist assumption that he would be working with a male, but in all fairness, most people would have done the same. Construction, especially on this level, was still a pretty male-dominated arena. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask the full name of the project manager listed at the top of most of the documents simply as P. Jones.
Sawyer wondered, just for a moment, what he would have done if he had known that the P stood for Paxton. Would he have tried to come up with an excuse when his supervisor at the Army Corps assigned him to this project last week?
No, he wouldn’t have made excuses. He had never been the type to run.
She had been the one who ran away.
Sawyer tipped his head back and closed his eyes against the hurt that still pierced his chest whenever he thought about that morning when he’d woken to find her gone.
It had been three years since that night the two of them had ended up in bed together, turning one of the most harrowing days of his life into one of the most memorable. Sawyer could still recall to the