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My Dad's Boss

By:Mia Madison

 A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance

Chapter One





A GORGEOUS MAN drinking iced coffee was checking me out.

Under normal circumstances, that probably wasn't too exciting. At the  university, I got my fair share of male interest. I was twenty and in  good shape. Men seemed to like my wavy shoulder-length honey-blonde  tresses and blue eyes.

But now I was stuck at my parent's house for the summer. Most of my  friends were finding exciting internships, backpacking in exotic lands,  or even just perfecting their tans at the beach. The most interesting  thing I'd done lately was to sit in this coffeehouse, sipping  Frappuccinos, and looking for a part-time job.

So yeah, a handsome man sending admiring glances my way rated pretty high on my own personal excitement meter this summer.

I had my laptop open to several job search sites, plus Facebook and my  e-mail, but my attention kept going back to him. He was sitting a few  tables away, with a newspaper spread out in front of him. A newspaper!  Who read those anymore? But he was older than me, maybe in his late  thirties. He wasn't old, but I guess newspapers had played a bigger part  of his life than mine.

A chime sounded on my laptop. It was Abby, a friend I'd taken a couple  of classes, with wanting to know what I was up to. I told her a hot guy  was checking me out.

She replied: Lucky you! Tell me about him.

Mmm, another excuse to look at him. From what I'd seen so far, he was definitely worth a second-and third and fourth-glance.

I responded: He's older, but super hot!!!! Dark hair, a little bit messy  in a sexy way, kwim? And at his temples, it's a little salt and  peppery. And god, his glasses. They make him look so damn delicious!

She responded right away: Shit, he does sound hot. Ring?

I squinted at his hand where it rested on the table: Nope!

Abby was enthusiastic: Then go for it, girl! Older guys know what to do with a woman. Trust me!

She'd dated an older man? She didn't really seem the type. Then again, I  hadn't thought I was either until he caught my eye today.

And it was clear that I'd drawn his, too. He kept glancing over my way.  When he did, I pretended to be absorbed my chat with Abby, but once I  goofed up and looked at him right when he was looking at me. My blue  eyes connected with his light ones, a gorgeous hazel that seemed to look  deep inside of me. It was like every nerve in my body sat up and paid  attention. God he was hot.

When he saw me looking, he raised his cup, as if to say cheers. I  smiled, trying to seem confident but probably coming off as a bit  bashful, if truth be told. A guy that looked that good had to have lots  of women flirting with him. What did I know about men his age? They were  real men, not like the idiot boys who hit on me in college.

Oh crap, I'd missed several messages from Abbie: What's his build like?  Body-builder or dad bod? Is he tall? Cassie, are you there? I need  deets!!!

Hastily, I typed: He's built all right. Strong arms. Broad chest.

I haven't even said a word to him and already, I liked him better than  most of those asshole guys at the college parties and frat houses.

Her response: Seriously, you need to go for it. You've spent long enough  moping over your stupid ex. Time to move on  …  with an older hottie who  knows what he's doing!

Reading that made my face flush. For some reason, I did suspect that the  man knew what he was doing in the bedroom. It was just something about  his confident self-assurance. He wasn't blushing like I was. He was just  letting me know that he found me attractive. His confidence set him  apart from the fumbling guys my friends set me up with.

Mr. Hottie picked up the newspaper and refolded it, setting it back on  the table. In the process, he'd angled himself toward me a little, and  now I could better see what he was wearing. A black t-shirt with a  picture of a guitar on it. It looked great with his tan skin. The firm  muscles of his arms and chests filled it out nicely. And black jeans,  too-who was this guy, Batman? Very few people wore black in Florida in  the summertime. But the overall effect was pretty enticing. I was sick  of seeing guys who dressed like wanna-be surfers or clueless tourists.  We got enough of both of those around here, and they definitely weren't  my type.

Self-consciously, I smoothed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. His  eyes followed my movement, and somehow that pleased me. I hadn't had a  boyfriend in a year, when my high school sweetheart, Brad Harper, had  cheated on me with my best friend, Stephanie Mills. The betrayal and  loss of my boyfriend and my best friend had been devastating. I'd loved  Brad so much and truly thought we'd be together for the rest of our  lives. Sometimes I wasn't sure I'd ever get past that relationship.         

     



 

Nobody I'd met in the past year had tempted me very much. Most of the  guys my age were just so immature. They only wanted sex. None of them  seemed interested in being my friend as well as my lover. And none had  the easy, sexy confidence of this man sitting a few tables away. I  didn't know him, and he didn't know me, but it was fun, being the object  of his attention. So maybe I could do a little more to keep that  attention.

Abby didn't seem to be online anymore, so I closed that chat and  dutifully went back to searching the job ads. But I glanced up at him  from time to time, looking at him through my lashes. When our gazes met,  I gave him a quick smile before looking down again. A few moments later  when I risked another peek at him, he was smiling back. Okay, so far so  good.

My Frappuccino was half finished, but there was still a bit of the  whipped cream left. I dipped the straw through the white fluffiness and  pulled it out, bring it to my mouth. Watching him, I flicked my tongue  out, licking the cream off the end of the straw. Okay, so that was a  pretty obvious thing to do, but it wasn't like I was super well-versed  in across-the-room flirting techniques. Or any flirting techniques. I'd  become friends with Brad our sophomore year of high school. By the  beginning of junior year, we were a couple, right up until last year. So  basically, my flirting-with-a-hot-stranger skills hadn't progressed  past those of a shy high school girl.

Mr. Hottie seemed to like my effort, though. He winked at me, and I  smiled back, licking my lips. That one hadn't been planned-my mouth felt  sticky from the whipped cream.

Okay, what next? It's not like I thought anything was going to come of  this, but it was fun. It was also getting me turned on, a rare feeling  for me nowadays. My sex drive had all but disappeared after Brad's  betrayal. Maybe a little harmless flirty was a step in the right  direction.

Trying to look casual, I ran my fingers through my hair again, pushing  it away from my face, only this time I moved my fingers down my neck to  the top of my chest. I stopped at the neckline of the sleeveless shirt I  wore. I slipped one finger under the fabric and tugged the material out  a little. Then I got embarrassed and hastily picked up my drink, taking  a long sip.

When I looked up at him, he raised an eyebrow at me. He'd clearly  noticed my little performance. He was grinning but not ogling the way  some guys did. I got the feeling that he was enjoying himself, but that  he considered this to be harmless flirting, too. Or did he do this kind  of thing a lot? He was pretty damn good-looking. I bet he didn't have  much trouble attracting female attention.

The next time I glanced his way, he was ready for me. He held up his  cup, pointed to mine, and then jerked his thumb toward the counter where  a half dozen people waited in line. It took me a minute to figure out  he wanted to buy me a drink.

Did I want him to do that? Sure, I could use another, but what would I  say when he brought it over? What might he say? Still-hot guy, free  drink. It was pretty much a no-brainer. But how to tell him what I  wanted? It would kill the mystery to just march over there and give him  my order. And then I had an idea.

Nodding at him, I put my finger up, signaling for him to wait. And then I  tore a sheet off of the pad of paper I had on the table, ready to take  notes about any interesting jobs, not that I'd found any today.

I jotted down the name of my favorite drink and folded the paper in  half, then in half again. It was a skill I hadn't used since boring high  school classes, but thirty seconds later I was holding a pretty decent  paper airplane.

He raised his eyebrow in admiration when I held it up. I took careful  aim, drew my hand back, and let it fly. Normally, paper airplanes have a  mind of their own, but this one flew relatively straight. Perhaps there  was some kind of guardian angel for women who hadn't had sex in over a  year. The airplane headed straight for him but then lost altitude a few  feet in front of him. With surprisingly quick reflexes, he lunged,  snatching it before it hit the ground.

Sitting back down, he unfolded it and then frowned, looking from the  paper to me. I guess he'd never heard of a Thin Mint Frappuccino-most  people hadn't. Smiling, I pointed at the paper again, and he took off  his glasses and squinted at it. I guess he only needed them for  distance, but he'd looked so hot whipping them off like that.

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