Marla was still in a meeting with her design team, raking someone over the coals for failing to check a copyright. Tess knew the instant he entered the office, although she faced away from the door, bending over to find a file in the bottom drawer. His energy, his intensity, lashed her. She froze. “Nice view.” His tone, as always, was laced with playful humor. A flush crept up her cheeks. Slowly she stood, file in hand. She turned and nodded coolly. “Mr. Mittlebank. Your sister will be with you shortly. She’s just finishing up another meeting.” “You mean another reaming.” He grinned and leaned against her desk. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscled thighs stretched the fabric of his slacks. Oh, and his ass was on her desk. She noticed that too. She’d never wash that spot again. “Tess.” She stilled as her name—for the first time ever—passed his lips. Unfamiliar elation cascaded through her. “How long have you been with Mittlebank?” He picked up her paperweight, a crystal globe, and absently stroked it.
