“So, how about lunch again today?”

I pulled the stack of papers out of the printer and stood. Instead of telling him the truth—that I wasn’t interested—I made up a wimpy excuse instead. “Uh, I have plans to eat…with the other interns in marketing.”

“Oh…okay. Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

Sure thing, I mentally sneered. Your smug ass will be the first one I think of when I’m in a pinch!

I grinned wide. “Thank you. That’s very nice.” As usual, April the coward never said what was really on her mind. She just grinned and bore it.

I held my breath when I walked back into the lair of the Beast. He glanced up at me again, this time giving me a longer look, as if he noticed my extra efforts at prettying myself—not for him, of course. I set the reports down on his desk. “Here you go. All in order, NYSE on top.”

“As it should be.”

I turned at the same time he picked up his coffee to make room for his reports, which he usually spread out across the desktop so he could cross-reference them quickly. As if in slow motion, I watched as the top of the cup popped off when he grabbed it and the coffee sprayed all over the desk—and him.

I froze, putting my hand to my mouth, and watched, eyes wide with horror, as coffee stains bloomed on his shirt and pants.

“Motherfucker!” he shouted, shooting out of his chair.

“Oh crap!” I said at the same time. “Let me get some towels.” I bee-lined it around his desk into his private bathroom and grabbed a stack of clean hand towels from the cabinet. Rushing back into the office, I saw that he’d already peeled off his dress shirt and was now yanking off his undershirt.

Was I was about to get yet another glimpse of that magnificent chest? Someone up there was getting back at me for something bad I’d done.

I handed him a towel, which he proceeded to dab over his moist, shiny skin. “You aren’t burned? With the white-hot temperature you want that coffee, I’m surprised you aren’t blistering by now.”

He was red in spots, but it appeared as if he’d pulled off his shirt in time.

He shook his head. “How the hell did this happen? Was that lid on properly?”

I paused from where I was mopping up spilled coffee from the desktop. Was he going to pin the blame on me?

“The top was secure when I gave it to you,” I said in an even, firm voice. I picked up each paper and wiped droplets of coffee off before setting it back down.

“Well, obviously it wasn’t on there properly because how else would it just pop off like that? I didn’t pull it off and pop it back on. Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you were checking to see if I’d screwed up the order so you could yell at me about it? Or perhaps you had your thermometer out ready to check if it was ten degrees short of screaming molten fusion!”

He raised his brows at me, clearly surprised that I’d snapped back at him. Up until this moment, I’d quietly taken every bit of shit he’d dished out at me. But not anymore. I’d had enough!

I folded my arms across my chest, ready for his onslaught…but it didn’t come. I tried to force my eyes away from his chest, his bulging arm muscles, that sexy-as-hell tattoo. God, he was just too yummy to be real. Was it a requirement to have hot male-model looks in order to run this damn company? And be filthy rich and brilliantly intelligent on top of it?

Oh, and to be so perfect that he was arrogantly and insufferably full of himself. I reminded myself not to forget that.

Jordan was talking and I was only half paying attention, watching as he dabbed at his chest with the soft, white towel. “—need you to grab me a new shirt, undershirt and suit. I’ve got a lunch meeting at noon.”

I shook my head. “Um…what?”

He snapped his fingers two inches from my face and I blinked. “Earth to Weiss…there’s no intelligent life down here…beam me up!”

I clenched my teeth and glared at him. Fuck you, my brain wanted to scream.

“I need you to swing by my house and grab me new clothes.”

“Uh. Are you sure you don’t just want to drive home and change?”

“I’m absolutely sure, since I have a phone call in half an hour with an underwriter and another with the IPO attorney after that. And I have that important lunch meeting that I can’t show up to with coffee all over myself. So I need you to take my keys, go into my closet and grab a new shirt, tie and suit. You remember where my room is?”

“Uh, sure.” I gulped, remembering the last time I’d been in his room—and had been caught snooping by him. I shoved that thought aside in my annoyance.