Chapter Twenty-Three

Wednesday, near closing time, when Max returned to his office after spending all of Tuesday with his bankers, and most of Wednesday with clients, he pulled up short.

Nothing was as it had been when he’d left Monday evening. Obviously, he hadn’t given Aggie enough to do with her time. When would he learn she could do at least twice as much in one day as his usual assistant?

“Aggie?” The last time he’d seen her, she’d been in those tiny running shorts, striding away from him.

“Oh, hey, boss man.” She gave him the smile he was beginning to know as her get-out-of-jail-free smile. The one that made every part of him go tense and yet excited at the same time.

“Oh, hey, assistant lady.” He loved how she didn’t hold a grudge. He’d been brought up, when someone did you wrong, you cut them out of your life. Like he’d been doing with his father for years. Was her approach better? Get mad. Get even. Get over it.

She moved out from behind her desk, holding a feather duster. A fantasy starring her and that duster flashed through his brain, escalating the ever-present desire he endured in her presence.

“Before you blow a gasket,” she said, “let me explain why I’ve done what I’ve done.”

He stood at the door and counted to three. He really hated for anyone to touch his things. Always had. Not because he didn’t like to share, but because…Mom taught him not to share. When things got shared, things got broken. Broken things had no value. He’d probably been around six at the time.

“I’ll hold back my gasket blowing until after you’ve explained why you’ve changed the layout of our office without seeking my permission.”

She pointed the duster in his direction. “Actually, I’m not in possession of a fabulous reason for not asking your permission, other than you’d say no. But I do have a kick-ass reason for the changes.”

Aggie Johansson subscribed to the adage it’s better to ask forgiveness than seek permission. He, too, believed in the benefits of living by such a rule. It’s hard to get mad when someone flipped it on you. “I’m listening.”

“Okay then. Have you ever heard of Feng Shui?”

“I remember it being mentioned in one of my college classes. Why don’t you give me a brief refresher?”

She floated in front of her desk and leaned against it. “It’s an ancient Chinese system of laws. In its basic explanation, Feng Shui says the spatial arrangement of a room affects the flow of energy in the room. And what allows for favorable energy should be taken into consideration when arranging a space, or in your case, when re-imagining new uses for old buildings.”

Did the spatial arrangement of his thoughts affect the flow of energy in his life? “How does having my desk facing a door instead of a window-with-a-view affect the energy in the room?”

She crossed her legs at the ankles, drawing his attention to today’s death-trap heels. They were black with a lot of straps. “According to lore, when your back is to the door, you’re inviting in energy that allows for things at work to be done behind your back.”

“Like you rearranging my office without my permission?”

She beamed.

Today her hair flowed down her back, inviting a man’s hands. His hands.

“Exactly,” she said. “I did, however, place a mirror on your desk so you can see the view out the window.”

What would it be like to spend his life with someone as free and easygoing as her? It would be a life of unpredictability. Some unpredictability was good, but he didn’t think he could handle a constant barrage of it. He needed more control. More certainty. There’d been enough uncertainty in his life already.

“And the new plants?” He pointed to a tree in the corner.

“This beauty,” she said, running her hand lovingly over a branch, “is a lucky bamboo. It’s considered a wealth plant.”

He’d like her to run her hands over him like that.

“A wealth plant?” His voice came out thick, not unlike other parts of him at the moment. Maybe control was overrated. Would it be so terrible to try someone else’s approach to life? He could always go back to predictability if he didn’t like the change. Just like he could change his office furniture back if this arrangement didn’t work.

She braced a hand high on the windowsill, as if posing for a magazine cover. “Having wealth plants helps to anchor your intention for the room. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but your intent is to make money, right?”

It was hard to argue her points when his thoughts were all over the place. “Father once told me I’d be lucky to earn thirty thousand a year at the top of my game.”

“What did you say to him?”

He’d never told this story to anyone. “I bet him I’d accrue my first million by the time I’m thirty-one.” Father didn’t net his first million until he was thirty-two. He had to do him one better.

“What happens if you lose the bet?”

He rocked back on his heels. “Tell me about your duster.”

The look she gave him said she saw right through his diversion attempt. “First, tell me about the bet?”

He eyed the wealth plant and then her legs and then her duster. “If I lose, I sell him my company and go to work for him. The duster?”

She straightened and wiggled the duster at him as if she could read his wicked thoughts. “A clean workplace fosters a clear mind.”

He swallowed a whole bucket full of lust and walked to his desk. “And the weird smell?”

As if trying to push every sexual button he possessed, she sauntered over and perched on the edge of his desk. “Weird? I find the scent soothing.”

“What is it?”

She slowly crossed her legs. “I’m burning sage to do a space clearing. It will lighten the feeling in here and clear the negative vibes we’ve had between us.”

He forced his gaze to travel upward until it finally met her amused grin. “Aggie…” He said her name because he needed to remind himself who she was. His employee. Not his current lover. “Are you seeing Richard?”

“Not at the moment.”

He took her hands in his. “Good.”

“Because you want me for yourself?”

Need stroked the flame inside him that had lit the moment they met. He wanted to lay her on the conference table and strip her naked. “I honestly don’t know.”

She leaned forward and briefly touched her lips to his. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

Fuck. He forced himself to nod and dropped her hands. “We’ll leave things as they are…for now.”

She hopped off the desk. “Look at you, trying to admit you like me.” She threw herself into his arms and full-body hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered against his tie. “I like you, too.”

Inhaling her scent, he disengaged himself from her arms. Was he crazy to want to get to know her better? “I think your sage burning is working. Now, get to work.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Other than her tongue darting out and licking her perfect lips. “Whatever you say, boss man.” She turned and slowly, hypnotically, purposefully sauntered toward her desk. Like she had on so many other occasions in this office.

Shaking off the “Aggie effect,” he dropped into his chair. God, he wished he kept whiskey in his desk. He opened the right drawer to put away his phone. The calendar he used to mark off the number of days until his permanent assistant returned caught his attention.

He pulled it out and marked off one more. Twenty-seven business days left. When he started marking the days, he couldn’t wait for the end to come. But now…now he found himself liking Aggie’s quirkiness. Envied some of her free spirit approach to life. Didn’t look forward to the final X. He slid the calendar back in the drawer under a stack of folders. “Aggie…”

She poked her head out from behind her computer. “Yes, boss man?”

“Weren’t we supposed to cook dinner tonight before our Bridge practice?”

“Didn’t Ms. Grace tell you? Meemaw picked up an extra shift tonight, so it’s been postponed.”

“Does Ms. Hazel work a lot of extra shifts?”

Aggie worried her bottom lip. “Not as much as she used to. She said something about having an unexpected expense this month, so she wanted some extra income.”

“In that case, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“You mean a date?”

“More like a business event.”

“Oh. You need me to work late?”

“Just over dinner. Unless you have plans?”

Her lavender-blue eyes sparkled from clear across the room. “I don’t have any plans. Can I pick the place for our work…date?”

His breath got stuck in his throat, so he just nodded.