George's jaw dropped when she walked into his office as did the papers in his hand. They scattered across the desk and onto the floor at her feet.
"Look at that. I'm already to be put to work before I even get the job," she said playfully. She dropped her briefcase onto the chair and bent down to retrieve the few sheets.
George's brain went fuzzy as an exotic fragrance met his nostrils. Of course, that may also have been due to the enticing view of cleavage.
She rose like a vision from a misty lake, gathered the sheets off the desk, smiled, and handed the papers to him. His breath caught in his chest. Talk about killer smiles! The murder didn't stop there, however. Her eyes, the color of pewter, set in the loveliest olive-toned face he'd ever seen were made to suck the soul out of unsuspecting males and her full, pouty lips could bring them down to their knees just to beg for a taste.
"Mr. Trudeau, are you feeling all right?" she asked concern marring her perfect features but little.
There was no way in hell he could hire Miss Mallory Dexter, MBA notwithstanding. She was a sexual harassment suit in the very supple flesh, in Prada heels and ultra-sexy, form-fitting, designer suits.
Damn it! How could the most qualified person for the job also be a runway model straight out of Milan? No, on second thought, she was too sexy for Milan, just like that stupid gitchy song says.
"I'm too sexy for my hat, too sexy for my cat, what do you think about that..."
"I'm sorry? What did you say?" Mallory said her eyes full of mirth.
Dear God, had he said that out loud? George cleared his throat, motioned her to take a seat and sat down in his own, his thoughts racing and trying in vain to keep his eyes from leering at her.
"Have I caught you at a bad time?"
"What?" he said distractedly, staring at her. I'm not normally a praying man, God, but help me here, he thought to himself. She's just too gorgeous.
"You seem to be somewhere around Neptune," she said with obvious amusement.
"Neptune? They say it's not a planet anymore. How about that?" he mumbled hardly knowing what he spoke.
"I've heard it was Pluto. I figure egg-head geniuses can do whatever they please and good for them. To me it'll always be a planet. I'm just a rebel that way," she said smiling brightly enough to eclipse the sun.
"Pluto...Mickey Mouse...yeah..." George said dreamily. He could feel himself sinking into her fathomless eyes and liked it immensely.
"Mr. Trudeau, is there something bothering you?"
"Bother... uh, well, yes. My mother had a stroke. Still in hospital," he replied still staring blindly at her. He briefly wondered why he thought of his mother just then.
Her smile vanished and was replaced with a frown. "I'm so sorry. Is she..?"
Her abrupt change of expression popped him out of his own stupor. "She's doing well. It was mild. She's with my sisters and I'm sure she's bullying the nurses and doctors by now trying to make them let her go home,"he said with some semblance of his normal every day tone.
"You should be with her. I'm sure she'd feel better with you there. We can do the interview some other time. I could come back," she said helpfully.
"No, You're already here. I plan on seeing her later today," he said. His mother was the least of his worries. What reason could he give not to hire this incredible woman? The interview had been a mere formality. Based on her resume he had already hired her, sight unseen. But now there was sight seen and it changed everything.
"So, Miss Dexter, tell me something about yourself," he said assuming the boss role properly.
"Well, first off, that's Mrs," she said leaning back in her seat and crossing those heavenly long legs.
George's heart started thumping dangerously until her words finally reached his slower-than-usual ears. "You're married? I didn't know that."
"Does it matter?" she asked curiously.
"No, I.... no," he said half disappointed, half relieved. Trying to compose himself he took in a fortifying breath and said what he should have said upon her entrance. "Mrs. Dexter..."
"Mallory, please. I don't like formalities," she said casually, pushing a strand of long, silky, black hair off her shoulder.
His heart skipped a beat. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. He decided to be damned and not thought insane by his own superiors. "This interview is barely necessary, Mallory. I wanted you as soon as I read your resume," he said stiffly. He hastened to add, "for the office. I want you to join the office, my office."
She laughed and leaned forward. "Yes, but now that you've seen me do you still want me?"she said playfully.
His heart stopped and he thought he might need jumper cables to get it going again. "Uh... I...."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Trudeau, but I couldn't resist. I tend to joke around a bit. It makes the day go by quicker if things aren't taken too seriously. I find a little fun never hurt anybody," she said happily.
He stared blankly. She was a woman after his own heart. He was surely half in love with her already. "I couldn't agree more, Mallory," he said breathlessly. "I run a friendly office. We're more like a group of friends that happen to work together instead of a bunch of strangers that try to be just friendly enough to get by."
"Well, that's sounds wonderful," she said excitedly but swiftly sobered and added, "But I have something especially against sexual harassment."
He quickly trained his eyes to not go below her chin. "Of course. We frown on that," he stated vehemently.
"No, that's not what I mean. I feel it causes undue stress for everybody if we have to pretend we're not who we are, that is to say, that men are men and women are women," she replied with a sexy, throaty laugh.
He melted for a minute her voice washing over him like silk. He was certain he was three quarter in love with her. "I don't think I understand, Mallory," he managed to say.
"Well, I don't see anything wrong with some harmless flirting in the workplace," she replied with a careless shrug. "It's natural and after all we are, most of us anyway, adults here. We know it's just a game to pass the time pleasantly. Surely we can keep our hormones in check long enough to not fling a secretary onto the desk. That's what the stockroom is for."
He stared at her aghast. Then she threw her head back and laughed. "Did I shock you, Mr. Trudeau? I did tell you I like to joke around."
"George, call me George. Everyone around here does," he said dazedly. " If you don't mind my asking, did you joke like this at your other job?"he asked tentatively.
"Yes, I did. It may have contributed to my looking for another place, "she said bracingly, then quickly added, "Not because of my co-workers. They were great. My husband didn't like my boss absently patting my backside at the Christmas party. I tried to explain he had had too much to drink and didn't mean anything by it but my husband wouldn't listen. He's a tad jealous and made me quit. But I've learned my lesson."
"No more workplace flirting?" George said unable to hide his disappointment.
She laughed and shook her head. "No, I just won't tell my husband about any of it. He's so touchy," she said rolling her eyes derisively. "He probably thinks I'm likely to jump onto the copy machine and ... well, whatever. He doesn't trust me at all when I've never given him reason but there you go. You've just learned far more about me than you'd want."
Yes, he did and he would use that to make certain he never crossed the line. "Well, we'll make sure your husband never has reason to distrust you. We won't call you Honey, Sweetie or Sugar while he's around," George said smirking.
She laughed and stood up thrusting her hand out. "Oh, he's not allowed to come here," she said adamantly. "I think I'm going to love working here, George. I've never had such a handsome boss."
He also stood, took her hand and felt an electric tingle run along his arm and up his neck as he stared into her mesmerizing eyes. Blimey, if he knew anything he was falling fast and may soon crash. "Thank you, Mallory. I'm sure you'll be one of the prettier ladies here. The guys will surely put it to a vote once they get a good look at you."
She laughed delightedly. "This has been the best interview I'll ever had," she said, only then realizing he still held her hand. She carefully pulled it back saying, "I think I might need this."
"Especially if we're going to be flirting shamelessly. We should do it properly, don't you think? I won't touch your bottom at the Christmas party," he said much to his own surprise.
"Good to know," she coyly replied, picking up her briefcase and heading for the door. With her hand on the knob she turned back. "May I say something, George?"
"Of course,' he replied eagerly.
"You should take off early and go see your mom. I'm sure she'll feel loads better once she sees her sweet Georgie boy," she said seriously.
He jaw dropped again. "How in the world did you know she calls me that?"he asked incredulously.
She shrugged. "If I had a son like you, that's exactly what I would call him." She winked and closed the door behind her.
He dropped into his chair and took a much needed breath in. She was right. It had been the best interview he ever had. He was ninety-nine percent in love. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't," he said smiling brightly.