Dad leans forward in the chair, elbows on his knees and fingers steepled. “I know the circumstances are far from ideal, sweetie. But try to at least give Noah a shot. I’d never put you in a situation I didn’t think you could handle. You’re my baby girl . . . I just want to see you with a good man. And that man is Noah.”

I don’t quite share Dad’s glowing opinion of Noah. Not yet—although hopefully that will change by the end of this month. But I remember how fiercely he cares about Rosita and her family’s welfare. There’s no mistaking the strength of his conviction.

If nothing else, I know I can count on Noah to step up to the plate and fight for T&C. I can trust him to work just as hard as I will. Which is good, because we’ll be spending the next three months in Overtime Hell together.

At least I’ll have some eye candy to ogle during all those late nights at the office. But now that I know about that telephone pole between his legs, I don’t know how I’ll ever look at him the same way.

Heaven help me.

Chapter Seven

Noah

You know how men are supposed to be more direct and forceful, while women are gentler and more attuned to emotions? That’s horseshit. As business partners, Olivia and I blur gender stereotypes. I’m the “face,” the charismatic people-pleaser, while she’s the get-shit-done powerhouse. Playing to our strengths lets us divide and conquer.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that men—especially stodgy, rich old farts—tend to listen better to other men. I can close deals over a round of golf, woo male and female clients alike, and generally sweet-talk my way through any situation. Which is exactly what I’ve spent this last week doing.

Today, though, I’m back in the office. And right now, I’m grinding my teeth at the sight of Harrison Ridgefield from the accounting department leering at Olivia’s cleavage.

“Something I can help you with there, buddy?” I snap as I step into Olivia’s office and stop right beside him.

His head jerks up and he smiles sheepishly, as if he knows he’s been caught. “Oh. Hey, Noah. Didn’t see you there,” he says, his voice unsteady.

“That’s because you were busy staring at my girlfriend’s . . . spreadsheets.”

Olivia and I haven’t announced our courtship yet, but rumor knows no bounds. The unofficial news has spread like fucking wildfire through our whole building.

Harrison swallows hard and takes a step back. “Congrats on all that, by the way.”

My blank stare says I’m on to you, prick. I even puff out my chest a little for good measure. Harrison isn’t a bad-looking guy. I hear the office gossip; I know he’s the wet dream of at least a few of the ladies here. But I’ve got about two inches on his six-foot frame, and more muscle too.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got it covered here, Olivia.” The douche bag treats her to a fond smile and steps away from her desk.

“Thanks, Harrison,” Olivia says as she watches him leave.

“What are you doing?” I glare down at Olivia’s monitor. There are pages and pages of data on her screen. I have no idea what it is—but I do know she looks stressed, and I want to fix it.

“Just trying to reconcile the invoices we sent clients last year with the actual dollars received.” She taps a four-inch-thick stack of printouts on her desk. “Something feels off about it.”

“Olivia . . .” I exhale slowly.

Her eyes jerk up to mine. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be spending your time on menial shit like this. We have too much strategizing and brand-building to do to keep your head buried in busywork.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Cranky-Pants, but ‘burying my head’ might end up saving us a fuck-ton of money.” Her blue eyes burn brightly, and I know I’m in for a fight if I push too hard.

Well, too bad. I’ll grab the tiger by the tail if that’s what it takes to stop her.

“What I’m trying to say is that your talents are wasted on this. Your time is valuable. This is what I mean when I say you work too hard. Tasks like these need to be delegated. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“Harrison was helping me—”

I hold up one hand. “Harrison was enjoying the peep show. Nothing more.” I make a point of letting my gaze drop slowly from hers down to the front of her blouse. The sight of the top of her firm, round breasts cradled in a delicate nude-colored bra makes my mouth water. I ignore the tingle at the base of my spine and the blood surging toward my groin, and take a deep breath.

Olivia’s gaze jerks from mine down to her cleavage, and she hoists her shirt up higher. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, he was not.”

She is seriously delusional. Harrison has had a wicked crush on her for three years. And he’s an underperforming ass, if you ask me.

“God, you’re grumpy today. Why don’t you go get one of those blow jobs you like from Jenni in HR?”

“Huh. I’m surprised you know about that.” I enjoyed a handful of oral encounters from a nice admin assistant earlier this year, but all that is over.

“I know everything that goes on around here.” She smirks.

Hell. “First of all, Jenni no longer works here.”

“Oh, darn.” She snaps her fingers in mock outrage.

“Secondly . . .” I lean my hip against her desk. “Even if she did, I’d have zero interest in seeing her lips around my cock right now.”