Catherine threw another pile of files onto the cart, wiping a drop of sweat from her nose. A knock sounded at the door, and her blood ran cold.

"Yes?" she asked.

​​

"It's me," Sean called through the door.

"Just a minute," she replied.

She bent down and grabbed the final handful of files, tossing them onto a cart as she made her way to the door. She twisted the handle, opened the door, and greeted Sean with a bright smile, but he looked past her. He stepped into the room, and his eyes narrowed as he took it in.

"This is your office?" he asked with disgust.

"I'm just an intern," she replied. "It wouldn't be right for me to take a bigger office. Not yet."

"Hmm," he said.

He swiped a long finger over the surface of her desk and pulled it away, revealing a thin film of dirt.

"What's this?" he asked. "Why is their dirt on your desk?"

He turned and looked around the room again, "And why are those file carts so disorganized?"

Catherine's heart hammered in her chest, "I um, tripped and knocked one of the carts over."

"One of the carts?" he asked.

"Well, there was a domino effect," she said. "They all fell over, and they broke a pot I had in the corner there."

"I see," he said.

He wiped his dirty hand on a tissue and then reached out and rubbed the tissue against the tip of her nose. She pulled away quickly, staring worriedly at the open office door.

"They can see us, Sean," she said.

"Who cares?" he whispered.

"It's not professional," she objected. "Just because we're married doesn't mean—"

Two powerful arms wrapped around her waist, and he silenced her with a kiss. She struggled for a moment, but the force of his embrace overwhelmed her, and she found herself kissing him back. His hand slid down her back and cupped her ass over her dress, and she went stiff in his arms.

"Stop it," she hissed. "People are watching."

"I don't care," he murmured against her lips.

Catherine squirmed against Sean's chest, trying to break free from the tight embrace. He broke the kiss, and his lips nipped the skin on her neck as she thrashed against him.

"Sean," she whispered. "Stop—everyone in the office is going to talk about us."

"And?" he asked, brushing his warm lips against her ear.

"And it's inappropriate," she said.

"Inappropriate?" he murmured. "This is nothing compared to what I want to do to you."

She froze against him, and he pulled his lips away from her ear. Slowly, he released his arms, allowing her to put an inch of distance between their bodies. Though her back was to the door, she could feel the curious eyes on her. Her face flamed, and her stomach churned.

"If they didn't know we're together, they're certainly going to know now," she groaned.

"And what's wrong with that?" he asked, frowning.

"I want them to respect me for my accomplishments—not for my marriage," she said.

"There's plenty of time for that later," he said seriously. "But it's good for them to know who you are."

Her stomach sank, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?" she asked. "You put on this little show so they'll stop challenging me."

His lip twitched, and his eyes flickered, "Maybe."

She pounded a fist against his chest, "Damn it, Sean."

"What?" he asked.

"You know how much this means to me," she said. "I want to prove myself to them. But now I'll never know if they respect me for my ideas or if they respect me because they're scared of you."

"Respect is respect," he said with a shrug.

She lifted her head and stared into his brilliant blue eyes, "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I'm just trying to protect you," he said, releasing his grip on her waist. "Now show me your ideas."

She staggered slightly and sank in her creaky desk chair. Her small office only had one chair, so Sean sat at the edge of the desk, casually crossing his legs. She reached for her notebook and flipped to the last page. Slowly, she began to explain her ideas to him.

As she spoke, she watched his face—every once in a while, his lip twitched slightly into a smile or frown, but for the most part, he was completely expressionless. She looked down at her notebook and continued explaining her ideas about new employees, performance reviews, and finally, the need for new designs.

"Not bad," he said, his voice flat and toneless.

"Do you mean that?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I do," he smiled. "Your expectations are too high—the speed at which you want to do this is totally unrealistic, but you have a knack for management."

His praise filled her with a warm glow, and she smiled up at him. Embarrassed, she looked away and shuffled through her notes, pretending to look for something. Internally, she cursed herself. She knew she should be furious at him, but she couldn't help but feel happy.

"The biggest problem seems to be the designs," he said. "If every other company is outselling us, that's a big problem. The fall collection will need to come out soon, and there's no time to redesign it."

"There has to be a way," she said. "If we release this current collection, the company will fail. It's almost identical to the fall collection from last year—they haven't changed a thing."

"Well," he said. "Take your things, and you can work on solving it this afternoon."

"My things?" she asked.

He nodded, "I'm taking you out to lunch, and then we're going home."

"I can't leave halfway through the day," she objected.

"Sure you can," he said, swiping the notebook off her desk. "Let's go."

She sighed and grabbed her purse, making sure she logged off the computer. She flipped the light switch and locked her office door before following Sean down the hallway. As they entered the lobby, he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side as they walked.