Monday morning, I arrived at work only to discover that I’d been temporarily reassigned. My supervisor gave my demure white blouse and gray skirt a quick look, then told me I was needed in Trace’s office for the day. His secretary had called in sick.

My heartbeat skittered, but I kept my expression bland and gathered my things.

I took the elevator to the upper floor, butterflies in my belly. Would he remember me? My hair was styled into a bun at the back of my head. I wore dark-framed glasses because I need them to see the computer screen. My appearance was altered enough he shouldn’t make the connection.

His secretary’s desk was set at an angle to see down the corridor to the other big shots’ offices, but also to allow his executive assistant to control access to his closed door. I opened the bottom drawer of the desk and put my purse into it. Then I sat in the chair and signed into the computer. How was I going to access his schedule?

A discreet bell chimed on the phone, and I lifted the receiver and punched a blinking light, having no clue who was calling. “This is Zoe Blanchard. How may I help you?”

“Would you come inside my office, Zoe?”

I’d have recognized that smooth whiskey voice anywhere. My nerves jangled and my breath hitched. I picked up my notepad and a pen and stood, smoothing down the sides of my knee-length skirt. Then I walked to his door and let myself in.

His office was huge. Two monitors sat atop his desk, to the side, giving me a view of his upper body and thick dark hair. He was looking downward at an open file.

I took a deep breath to calm myself and strode toward his desk. “Mr. Patterson—”

“Trace, seeing as you had sex in my pool.”

My jaw dropped.

His head lifted and his dark gaze narrowed on my expression.

Heat filled my cheeks, and I wondered if I was about to be fired.

He waved a hand at the chair pulled close to the front of his desk, and I sat, landing a little hard because my knees gave out.

“Nothing to say?” he said, his voice low and cool.

“I apologize. I hope you won’t think less of Grayson. It was all my idea.”

“I know.”

His head canted to the side, and his gaze moved from my face to my white blouse and lower. “Would you like to know how I know?”

Because I didn’t know what the right answer might be, I nodded.

He turned one of the monitors toward me. In the center was a video frame. With the touch of a button, I watched as I stepped behind the falls, took a seat and then began to strip off my underwear. The resolution was terrific. So good, I could see my taut nipples. Then Grayson arrived and the footage continued to play.

Until that moment, I didn’t realize just how good Gray and I looked together. Neither of us made horrible faces when we made love. The muscles of his broad shoulders flexed, as did those of his buttocks. His pace was quite athletic.

I watched as I pleasured myself, tonguing my own nipples. Watched Grayson watching me, his blue gaze darkening as it trailed down my breasts to my quickly toggling finger.

The video stopped, and I realized not only was my face flushed, but my entire body was hot. I’d grown aroused.

And from the dark glint in Trace’s brown eyes, he knew it.

I swallowed hard then cleared my throat. “I can’t have been the first guest to fuck in your pool.” I nearly died, my tongue getting in front of my brain. I’d never been able to curb it. Especially when I was angry.

The corners of his mouth twitched, then his lips settled into a firm, straight line. “You’re very new. I’ve been looking over your personnel file.”

My gaze darted to the folder. “I know I don’t have much of a resume. Frankly, I was surprised when your company hired me.”

“I like young employees, love the energy,” he said, his voice smooth but not giving a hint of what he was really thinking. “They bring fresh ideas. And I like setting them free to become who they are meant to be.”

I nearly rolled my eyes at that bit of metaphysical crap, but managed to keep my gaze fixed on him. That wasn’t so hard. His strong featured-face was very striking. Not pretty in the least. Overtly masculine. Again, heat flared, settling in my belly. I shifted in my seat. “You aren’t exactly decrepit yourself.”

He flashed a quick smile then gave me another sharp stare. “I like employees who take risks. Who are open to new ideas.”

“I’m just a secretary. I’m not going to redesign a computer operating system.” Good lord, would I ever shut up?

He tapped his finger against the top of his desk. “Tell me about your…brother.”

I drew in a deep, sharp breath. “We’re not blood relations.”

“That’s good to hear. But you were raised as siblings?”

“Since we were children,” I whispered. “And I know how that sounds.”

“Like you’re committing incest?”

I nodded, feeling the heat leach from my face. “Some might consider it that.”

“You don’t?”

I held still. Grayson didn’t, but he was older. I’d always liked the taboo nature of my feelings for him.

Trace’s stare was so sharp, I knew he’d detect a lie. So I raised my chin. “Gray never saw me as a sister. We were friends.”

“Close friends.”

“He showed me how to masturbate.” That blurt wasn’t an accident, but I was growing angrier. Did he want to shame me?

“Was he your first lover?”

“Depends on whether you think oral sex counts.”

His mouth pursed, and his glance dropped away. “You love your brother.”

“I do.”

“Are you faithful?”

My eyes widened. “I would never sneak around on him, but we aren’t exclusive. We really wouldn’t know how to be.”

He sat back in his chair, his elbows resting on the arms, his fingers steepling beneath his chin. “Good to know.”

Again, his gaze rested on my blouse. “Is there a spot?” I asked, my tone biting. If he was imagining my naked breasts, breasts he knew the shape and color of, I was going to call him on it. He’d already embarrassed the hell out of me.

“Lock the door to my office.”