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to the mail room.
    “Oh, were you talking to that mutt?” he said, with a grin.
    He didn’t look upset now. He looked gorgeous.
    Georgia tried to answer with some kind of decorum, but instead only managed a croaked little “Yes.”
    Tristan’s smile deepened, and she knew he was pleased by her flustered response. He did so enjoy torturing her.
    “I don’t get it myself,” he said, leaning forward to peer over her desk at the dog.
    Dippy growled as if he understood.
    Tristan didn’t acknowledge the sound, instead focusing his intense green gaze on Georgia.
    “Peaches, I’m going to need your help on a very important task today.”
    Georgia automatically reached for the list, and again jumped when Tristan’s hand came out to stop her. His long, masculine fingers curled around her much smaller, much softer hand.
    “This task isn’t on your list,” he said, and she could swear he actually purred the words. It was a deep, seductive purr that made every nerve ending in her body tingle.
    Georgia’s eyes met his, and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest.
    “Okay,” she managed to say, proud the word came out normal, and not a sad little croak.
    Then his hand, still holding hers, curled even tighter, and he tugged slightly.
    “I need you to come with me.”
    Georgia’s heart leapt again, painfully. Why was it everything this man said sounded flirty and seductive? He really hadn’t said anything forward, or even unusual, yet she felt like every word, every comment, was designed seduce her.
    Of course, it had to be her own desires making her feel that way. Heaven knew, she wasn’t the type of woman Tristan McIntyre would want to seduce. He went for women as perfect and polished as himself. And he certainly had his pick of those at HOT! Models, actresses, every perfect woman in the world, right here for his choosing.
    She was irritated with herself that she was even hopeful he was flirting with her. Let’s face it, if he was, it was just some egotistical game he was playing. “The watch your chubby assistant blush and look pathetically hopeful game.” And damned if she didn’t fall for it every time.
    She cleared her throat and told herself to calm down. “What task do you need help with, sir?”
    His gaze lingered on her for a moment, a gaze that seemed filled with silent innuendo; although she told herself she was imagining it. This man did not want her, not as anything other than a personal assistant. At his beck and call—only for work.
    “I need you to come shopping with me.”
    Georgia hadn’t expected that.
    “Shopping?” Her gaze moved to his perfectly tailored, extremely expensive suit. “I don’t think you need me to help you shop. Besides, I don’t think I exactly share your taste.”
    She gave a pointed look down at her vintage rockabilly ensemble.
    Tristan smiled at that, his own gaze roaming over her. “No, you don’t. But I am quite fond of your taste.”
    She could have sworn his gaze dropped, just for an instant, to her cleavage, but she decided that was also her own warped desire for him. Leave it to her to be longing for sexual harassment from her boss.
    Ack. Get a grip, girl .
    “But I’m not talking about clothes shopping. I need you to come help me find new office furniture. All of this is going.”

Chapter Four
    “W hich one would you pick?”
    Georgia frowned at her boss, and then looked between the two desks. Both were large, made of heavy, dark wood and ornately carved with Chippendale legs and decorative knobs and drawer pulls.
    They were both very cool, very gothic, and so not very Tristan McIntyre.
    She looked back at him, perplexed. “They are both beautiful, but—”
    “You’re right,” Tristan said, cutting her off. He waved to the sales clerk, who already hovered nearby, sensing a big sale.
    Smart man.
    “I’m going to take both of these.” Tristan pointed to the desks. “And the chairs, too, I think.” He looked at Georgia questioningly.