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What You Need

By´╝ÜLorelei James

Prologue

Brady


The first time I saw her, I nearly walked into a wall.

Not the behavior expected from the CFO of a multibillion-dollar corporation.

And not the behavior I wanted the willowy blonde with the killer legs to witness. I’d suffered through too many years of being the gangly, bumbling, tongue-tied twerp to even approach her. Even now, when supposedly I was one of the most eligible bachelors in the Twin Cities, I erred on the side of acting aloof.

So as far as she knew, I hadn’t taken notice of her at all.

But I had. Had I ever.

We’d crossed paths maybe . . . half a dozen times since I’d first set eyes on her in the lobby of Lund Industries.

Ten months later I still didn’t know her name.

I didn’t even know which department she worked in.

It was information I could’ve easily accessed given my last name was on the letterhead of the company that employed her. But in my mind, that might be misconstrued as borderline stalking behavior. I wasn’t opposed to using my position to take shortcuts, but with her somehow that seemed like cheating.

But I did know a couple of things about her.

She was brusque, especially around upper-level management.

She had a husky laugh that she shared only with her coworkers.

A laugh I’d heard thirty seconds ago.

So the mystery blonde worked on this floor, in my department.

Interesting.

Before I headed toward her cubicle, I made damn sure I knew where all the walls were, because nothing was going to trip me up this time.





Chapter One




Lennox




“What’s he doing in our department?”

I glanced up from my computer, knowing even before I saw the suit at the end of the hallway who garnered the reverent tone from my coworker Sydney. I had the same reverence for the man; however, I did a much better job at masking it.

“Oh hell, here he comes. How do I look?” she whispered.

“You know the only thing that matters to him is if you look busy.”

Sydney smoothed her hair. “Lennox, lighten up. And ignore me while I busily and silently compose sonnets to that man’s everything, because he is the total package.”

I laughed—longer than I usually did. “Go for it, Syd. I’ll just be over here, you know, doing my job while you’re waxing poetic about him.” I returned my focus to spell-checking my notes from this morning’s meeting. I knew I had a misspelled or misused word, but I couldn’t find the damn thing.

“Wait. He’s stopping to talk to Penny,” Sydney informed me.

I felt a slight sneer form on my lips. Of course he’s stopping to talk to Perky Penny—she hadn’t earned that nickname from her disposition. Even I couldn’t keep my eyes off her pert parts—which she kept properly covered in deference to the dress code at Lund Industries. But I knew that given the chance, she’d proudly display them as if she worked at Hooters.

Wouldn’t you?

Nope. Been there, done that.

Sydney muttered and I ignored her, hell-bent on finding the mistake. I leaned closer to the computer monitor, as if that would help. Ah, there it is. I highlighted the word in question. Had he meant to say disperse? Or disburse? And was there enough difference in the definitions to warrant a call for clarification?

Without checking the dictionary app on my computer, I said, “Sydney. You were an English major. What’s the difference between disperse and disburse?”

“Disburse means to pay out money. Disperse means to go in different directions,” a deep male voice answered.

I lifted my gaze to see none other than Brady Lund himself, the CFO of Lund Industries, looming over my desk.

Outwardly I maintained my cool even as I felt my neck heating beneath the lace blouse I wore. I picked up a pen and ignored the urge to give the man a once-over, because I already knew what I’d find: Mr. Freakin’ Perfect. Brady Lund was always impeccably dressed, showcasing his long, lean body in an insanely expensive suit. He was always immaculately coifed—his angular face smoothly shaven, his thick, dark hair artfully tousled, giving the appearance of boyish charm.

As if a shark could be charming.

My coworkers and I had speculated endlessly about whether the CFO plucked his dark eyebrows to give his piercing blue eyes a more visceral punch. And whether he practiced raising his left eyebrow so mockingly. For that reason alone I avoided meeting his gaze.

Okay, that was not the only reason. I didn’t make eye contact because the man defined hot, smart and sexy.

But he also defined smug—half the time. I wanted to ask if he job-shared with an evil twin, but I doubted he’d laugh since he had no sense of humor, from what I’d heard.

Aware that he awaited my response, I said, “Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Lund.”

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