I love my job. I love my job. God, sometimes, I hate my job. I read the terse email from my boss, Nathan McKenna once again and swallow hard.
Friday, April 26, 2013 13:56
From: Nathan McKenna
To: Julianne Montgomery
Subject: Working Late
Julianne,
I need you to work late with me tonight, possibly into the weekend. Please gather all the files on the Radcliffe account and meet me in my office at 6:00 pm.
Nate
Damn it! For eight long months I've managed to steer clear of my boss, and I know I've been incredibly lucky that I haven't had to work alone with him after-hours, but we recently lost the other junior partner in our department, and that leaves just me and Nate.
Large, beastly butterflies have taken up residence in my stomach.
Since that one night last summer, Nate and I have maintained a level of professionalism that I'm very proud of, despite the fact that whenever I see him I feel a pull of electricity that makes my thighs clench. I did invite him to double-date with Nat and I on the night of one of Nat's husband, Luke's movie premieres, but I managed to keep that night completely platonic.
It almost killed me.
Since then, it's been for the greater good of keeping a job that I enjoy that I steer clear of Mr. Sex-on-legs.
Not that he's been clamoring to get me back into bed. The morning after The Best Sex In The History of Mankind, after I snuck out of his bed, he had been pissed. He'd called and texted, wanting to know what the hell happened, and I'd avoided him like the plague for a good two weeks, telecommuting from home and taking vacation time.
Then, he just stopped. All personal communication halted, and when we are together during business hours, he is the epitome of cool professionalism.
There are days that it pisses me the hell off.
And now, because the moron who had been in our department couldn't take the demanding schedule of our job quit, I have to work alone with Nate.
Fuck.
I sit back in my chair and look at the time. Five thirty. I pull my glasses off and toss them on my desk and hang my head in my hands. So much for spending the weekend with a pint of ice cream and a good book.
I can do this. Pull it together, Montgomery. I've posed naked in magazines. I've had dinner with gazillionares and hung out with movie stars. I have four older brothers who tease me incessantly, and taught me how to kick ass.
I can handle the sexiest man I've ever seen in my life for a few hours without ripping my clothes off and having my wicked way with him.
I think.
Probably.