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than she didn't want to find a new position, Laney really didn't want to find a new boss.
    "Don't worry," he said, holding up a hand in supplication. "You're not being fired." Yet , his tone seemed to imply. "It's more of a friendly warning. My partners aren't as… interested in giving you a chance for this position."
    "I know I've been clumsy," she admitted. "I swear it's not normally this bad. I mean, I'm not a prima ballerina or anything, but…"
    "Trust me, it's more about bad luck than anything," he said soothingly. "He didn't say so directly, but I believe Price's secretary was one of the unfortunate victims of your hallway derby."
    Now she really did flush for an entirely non-sexual reason. "I will spend every spare second I have avoiding calamity," she promised.
    "Do that," he agreed, taking a sip of his coffee. Another of those sexy little moans slipped out of his mouth. "Just make sure your coffee making skills don't suffer."
    "I won't," she laughed. "Is that all?"
    "For now," he allowed. "But Laney? Don't make me call you back in here. If you keep making mistakes, I might have to… punish you."
    Damn nipples. They had minds of their own. Laney was glad they weren't noticeable with her suit jacket. Michael's tone was teasing, but there was something behind his eyes, something in the way he couldn't stop himself from looking at her in that strangely possessive way that made her long to test him, to challenge him, to outright beg him to make good on that that teasing threat.
    "I'll try to be good," she promised, but as she slipped back out of his office, she realized she had unconsciously crossed her fingers.
    ##
    3.
    Michael found himself in the unique position of feeling pride at Laney's ability to stay focused and disappointed that she had stopped giving him cause to threaten punishing her, even if he hadn't been serious.
    An image assaulted him, one that made frequent appearances in his thoughts: Laney, bent over his desk, skirt pulled up over her bare ass, begging to be punished in whatever way he saw fit…
    Those were exactly the sort of thoughts that would have him acting as clumsy as Laney if he didn't knock it off. He needed to get laid. It had been months, months he hadn't really noticed because it was so easy for him to get consumed with work. He'd always been that way, even in school. While his friends panted over cheerleaders and the occasional drama chick, Michael had dedicated himself to getting good grades, to working hard, to achieving whatever goal was in front of him.
    Girls were an incredibly pleasant diversion, one he'd gladly partaken in after he lost his virginity to an older woman the summer he turned sixteen. She'd taught him well and he'd never lacked for female companionship ever since. He'd simply never met someone he wanted intensely enough, consistently enough to put her first, to think about her before the next deal, the next argument, the next big paycheck. Michael wasn't much of a romantic, or at least he hadn't been, before some girl had literally stumbled into his life and planted herself on his mind more often than he'd thought about all the girls he'd been with before, combined.
    When Laney brought him his coffee, he found himself smiling at her, smiling in general because he liked that she took care of him. He liked that she was so affected by him that she stumbled and tripped and knocked things over. He liked the look on her face when he smiled at her, nearly as much as the look on her face when he'd threatened to 'punish' her if she didn't stop making mistakes.
    Michael shifted in his seat. He was hard. Again. He'd actually contemplated using the Price's private restroom to jerk off the other day, which had been the first time he'd realized he needed to get laid. It was possible this obsession with Laney was nothing more than him needing to scratch an itch. Doing so with Laney would be ill advised, given their working relationship. And Michael was a lawyer. He knew at least a