Dating the Boss (Blue Harbor #2) - Jaclyn Osborn Page 0,3

his, but I knew I’d need more. Plus, it was a nice gesture for my coworkers.

“Saint Reed strikes again,” Jennifer said, coming into the room after I started the machine. She worked as the marketing manager, the position directly beneath the VP. “I was just about to make a pot of coffee, and here you are, already on top of it.”

I smiled. “I’m amazing, I know.”

“You really have to be amazing to work for Mr. Sawyer,” she said. He was her boss, too, but in a different way. He approved—or denied—designs and ideas from the marketing team. Every project had to go through him first. But I was the one who worked directly with him every day. “You know, you’ve lasted the longest out of all his past assistants. Not sure if you knew that.”

“I know that the last one quit after two months, but I thought it was because she got a better job offer.”

“Not until she put in her two weeks’ notice.” Jennifer pulled out a chair and sat at the table in the middle of the room. “Not everyone can handle Mr. Sawyer, so I’m glad you’ve managed well. He might not show it, but he appreciates all your hard work. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.”

It was reassuring to know he wasn’t just that way with me. He was a block of ice to everyone apparently. It wasn’t bad enough to quit a damn good job over, though.

“Have a great day, Jen,” I said before leaving the breakroom and going to my desk. It was right beside a window, so I had a nice view of trees and the courtyard below while I worked. Daniel’s office was straight ahead.

Around eight fifteen, the door opened and he stepped out, talking to someone on the phone. I stood up and grabbed my coat to walk him out to the car. Sometimes he told me to go with him to the meetings, and other times he preferred me to stay behind.

Today was the latter.

Daniel disconnected his call and looked at me. “Put together our sales report from last week while I’m gone and call Henderson about the meeting tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” I placed my coat back down and watched him leave the office without another look my way.

“Morning, Mr. Sawyer,” Jen said as she passed him in the hall. He barely registered her. He just gave a slight nod of his head and kept walking. She shot me a raised brow look before going into the conference room where the marketing team was putting together a big commercial presentation for a current client.

Sighing, I plopped back down in my chair and scooted up to my desk, wiggling the mouse so my computer flickered back on.

Time to get shit done.

Two hours later, Daniel returned from his meeting. He unbuttoned his coat as he walked past my desk, and his cheeks were pink from the cold. Why did he always look so serious? Kind of sad, even. It was hard to believe the man in front of me was the same one smiling in that picture on his desk.

A whiff of his cologne touched my nose as he passed me, making it damn hard not to drool after him.

“Reports are on your desk,” I said, shoving those inappropriate thoughts to the back of my mind.

He nodded to me and went into his office, the door clicking closed behind him.

“You’re welcome,” I muttered to myself, then took a sip of freshly brewed coffee. It was my third cup that morning.

A message pinged on my computer.

Daniel Sawyer: At 11:30, order lunch from Mike’s Bar & Grill. I’ll have my usual.

Another message came through before I could type a response.

Daniel Sawyer: And order yourself something too. Whatever you want. It’s on me.

I smiled. He might be a too-serious hard-ass with an aversion to smiling and friendly manners, but he was an okay guy. Sometimes.

Me: Yes, sir.

I set a timer on my phone to remember to order lunch in an hour and then got back to work.

Chapter Two

Daniel

“You staying late again today?” Reed asked me around six o’clock that evening. Most of the office had left, apart from me, him, and the marketing manager, who was finalizing plans for a client pitch.

“Yes.” I had a meeting the next morning with my boss that I needed to prepare for and also review work from the creative team.

“Overworking yourself can shorten your life span,” Reed said in a matter-of-fact tone, still standing in the doorway.

I looked up