Much More Than a Mistress Read Free Page A

that might only make him appear as if he had something to hide. He couldn’t let anything, not even his pride, interfere with his chance at the coveted CEO position Adam would be vacating soon. His only choice was to cooperate with their investigation.
    Of course, that didn’t mean he was going to make it easy for his new “secretary.” Knowing who she was and why she was there, he could manipulate the situation, control the information she obtained. Let her see only what he wanted her to see. Not that they were going to find anything incriminating, because he hadn’t done anythingwrong. But there were certain aspects of his life—financial ones in particular—that he preferred to keep private.
    â€œHere,” Jordan said, backing away from her chair. “Have a seat.”
    Smiling nervously, Miss Monroe rounded the desk. “Can I get you a cup of coff—” The toe of one spike-heeled “do-me” shoe caught on the desk leg and she lurched forward. She grabbed the corner of the desk in her attempt to catch her fall, but the foam cup she was holding in the opposite hand went airborne. And hit him square in the chest.
    Miss Monroe gasped in horror, slapping a hand over her crimson-painted mouth as coffee soaked not only his shirt, but the carpet where he was standing. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just did that.”
    She looked frantically around for something to clean up the mess and spotted a box of tissues on the desk. She lunged for it, ripping out a handful and shoving them at him. “Mr. Everette, I am so sorry.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” he said, wiping up the coffee dripping from his chin. Not the most graceful runway model, was she?
    She gestured helplessly at his damp shirt. “Is there anything I can do?”
    â€œI keep an extra shirt in the closet for emergencies. You could grab it for me while I clean up.”
    â€œOf course,” she said, scrambling for the closet.
    Jordan walked to the bathroom in his office, unbuttoning his shirt. Some of the coffee had hit his pants too, but as luck would have it, he’d worn his brown suit that morning.
    He dropped his shirt on the bathroom floor, and peeled his coffee-soaked undershirt over his head. Maybe she wasn’t an agency operative after all. Or was this just all part of a clever disguise? A ruse to throw him off the trail?
    â€œMr. Everette?” she called from his office.
    â€œIn here.” He wet a washcloth in the sink and wiped the coffee from his face and chest.
    â€œHere’s your…”
    Jordan turned to see Miss Monroe in the bathroom doorway, eyes wide and fixed somewhere between his neck and his belt. She blinked and quickly looked away, a red hue creeping up from the neckline of her blouse. Why would an above-average-looking woman who practically oozed sexuality blush at the sight of a shirtless man?
    Interesting.
    Eyes averted, she held out the hanger with his clean shirt. “Here you go.”
    He took it, brushing his fingers against hers as he did, and she jerked her hand away.
    Very interesting.
    â€œAre you going to fire me?” she asked.
    Why bother? They would just send a new agency person in.
    â€œDid you do it on purpose?” he asked.
    She blinked in surprise and cut her eyes to him. “Of course not!”
    He hooked the hanger on the towel rack, tugged the clean undershirt free and pulled it over his head. “Then why would I fire you?”
    She pulled her lip between her teeth again, and it brought to mind nibbling on a plump red cherry. He wondered if she had the slightest clue how sexy she looked when she did that. The coy bit had to be an act.
    He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it. “In answer to your question, yes.”
    â€œMy question?”
    â€œI would love a cup of coffee. Although this time I’d rather not wear it.”
    Her lips tilted into an embarrassed smile. “Of course.”
    â€œMy