Chapter 6

Still in shock, I drag my hands through my hair. Then turn my rage on the only other being in the room.

"Why would you tell him to come in?"

K-2P swivels. "It's the polite thing to do when someone knocks on a door."

"No, it's not. Especially not if I'm getting undressed and am not wearing any frigging pants. Oh, gosh."

I rub my forehead.

Thomas Mercer has seen my butt. I flashed him my boobs. Oh, gosh, oh, goodness gracious, I'll never be able to look him in the eyes ever again. He's my new boss, and he's seen me half-naked.

I glare at K-2P. "How long had he been standing there before I turned?"

K-2P, who's programmed to log and measure all changes to his surrounding environment, gives me a punctual answer. "Ninety-three point two seconds."

I sag back against the desk, gripping the edge until my knuckles turn white.

"You'll have to come out eventually," a deep voice calls from outside.

Oh, good grief, he's still out there.

"In a minute," I shout back.

"Take your time."

His voice sounds like warm massage oil being poured over cool skin and then spread with big, rough, calloused hands. And the body that accompanies the voice is no joke either. In person, Thomas Mercer is even more impressive than in his picture, which didn't convey how tall he is.

I hate tall men. How they tower over me and the way they stare down their noses at me.

And his face? I scoff. If someone asked me this morning, I would've told them Thomas Mercer is a very photogenic man. If they asked me now, I'd say that profile picture looks like a crappy sketch made by a three-year-old compared to the real thing.

The big boss's son is the breathing, walking, talking personification of a GQ magazine cover.

Brainless, I add. Most probably an unintelligent, arrogant, spoiled, self-centered, vain, cocky moron. Let's concentrate on that.

"Ughhhh," I groan, and grab my sweatpants, hopping on one foot to shuffle my right leg into them. Keeping my back to the door, I remove my blazer and button-down shirt and pull on the plain white T-shirt and the white unicorn hoodie I'd prepared on my desk. Next, I pull my hair up in a messy bun.

Even when I'm fully decent again, I don't go outside. I remain entrenched in my office, hoping that if I stay locked in here long enough Thomas Mercer will just go away.

And why is he still hanging around, anyway? Does he plan on humiliating me some more?

"Maybe you should go ahead to lunch and we should meet afterward," I call to the man still outside my office.

In response, there's a pause. And then, "Nah, I'll wait. You need help with a zipper or something?"

That does it for me. I'm angry now. In two quick strides, I cross the office and fling the door open.

Thomas Mercer is waiting for me on the other side, casually draped on a desk, with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

His stupid, perfect hair is gorgeously tousled, almost as if, while he was waiting, he's been raking his fingers through it.

I stop dead in my tracks while his hazel-green eyes lock on me, forcing me to notice the speckles of gold in his irises. Thomas tilts his head and flashes me a dimpled smile, causing my breath to hitch in my throat.

Whatever remark I was about to make dies on my lips, so he takes the lead. "Dr. Campbell, all set?" he asks in a slow, indulgent drawl.

"Yes," I say, regaining my composure.

His eyes travel over my new outfit, and I do the same with his two-thousand-minimum dollar pinstriped suit. Gosh, the guy couldn't look more posh if he tried.

"Nice hoodie," he says eventually.

"Nice suit," I reply.

He studies me for a moment. "Why do I have a feeling that compliment isn't exactly genuine, Dr. Campbell?"

"I can't comment on your insecurities."

He tilts his head back and laughs.

My turn to cross my arms over my chest. "Having fun much?"

"I have to say, this is not how I expected the introductions with the head of robotics RD director to go." He must notice the indignant rage building up in me because before I can reply, he raises his hands to stop me. "But let me start by apologizing for barging into your office, I had no way of knowing it was a robot who'd invited me to come in and not you."

"I am not a robot." K-2P shuffles out of the office behind me. "I'm a highly sophisticated, artificial intelligence machine programmed to interact with organics."

"Sorry, little guy, what should I call you then?"

"I'm an advanced kinematics precision pneumatics service droid."

I roll my eyes. "He's K-2P."

Thomas Mercer surprises me by offering his hand to the droid. "Very pleased to meet you, K-2P. I'm Thomas."

I watch in a sort of out-of-body experience as the lab's mascot and the soon-to-be new CEO shake hands.

Then Thomas Mercer looks up at me and offers me the same hand. "Thomas Mercer."

I hesitate.

"Just to make the introductions official," he adds with a wink.

I don't think winking at me is very professional, but I can't very well let him stand there like a tool with his hand outstretched, refusing to shake it. This is the man who will have the power over my research budget, my team, my salary, and my end-of-year bonus.

I close the few feet of distance still separating us and don't appreciate one bit how, with the reduced distance, I can smell his sexy, expensive cologne.

He smells like a dream you just woke up from and can't quite remember, but only know that it had been a good dream. A fantasy about something you desire with all your heart but can't have in real life. There might also be a hint of sandalwood and Bleu de Chanel mixed in there.

I take his hand and shiver at the contact, at the warmth that seems to flow from his palm to my hand, at the electricity that shoots up my arm. The current flows straight to my head, making my brain short-circuit. I forget proper social form and neglect to let go of his hand.

In a voice an octave lower than it has been so far, he says, "Nice to officially meet you, Reese Campbell."

The way my name rolls out of his mouth is indecent. It lands straight in my belly, warming me up from my core outward. That's when my gaze drops between our bodies and I notice he hasn't let go of my hand either.