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He checked his watch as he waited for the lift.

8:52. Goddammit.

He tapped his foot anxiously. The doors finally slid open and he dashed in, pressing the button repeatedly in the hope that the doors would close quicker.

He checked his watch again as the floors ticked past. 8:55. He might just make it to his desk by nine, but the chances of getting his computer booted in time were pretty slim. Just had to hope nobody noticed.

The doors slid open and he rushed to his cubicle. No sign of the boss. 8:57. Still good. He dropped his jacket into the bottom drawer and pushed the power button on his computer.

Nothing happened.

With a groan, he got onto his hands and knees and crawled under the desk to check the power cord. It was unplugged. Bloody cleaners, he thought. Always using his bloody power socket for their bloody hoovers.

“Late. Again.”

Startled, he banged his head on the underside of his desk and tried not to swear. He turned around and looked up at his boss.

She had her arms folded across her formidable chest. Her bouffant ginger hair reminded him of a lion and she glared down at him with narrow, piercing eyes. From his vulnerable position near her terrifyingly sharp heels, he felt like the prey. A wounded zebra or something. At her mercy.

His heart started racing and his hands were suddenly incredibly clammy.

“You can stay after hours and make it up,” she said with a wink.

He watched her walk away, like some kind of Amazon goddess on six inch stilettos, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.

Damn, but she was sexy.

© Kari Fay