"Thanks anyway," she called over her shoulder, positioning herself to step onto the elevator. When it opened, a pretty redhead barreled out, nearly running her over.

"Pardon me," the woman said, doing a double take at her. The redhead scanned Hannah from head to toe, her beautiful features twisting into a scowl. She cast an anxious look at Chuck and dashed from the building.

What was her problem? Before stepping onto the elevator, Hannah stopped and glanced into the lobby's mirror to check if she had food on her face or she'd tucked the hem of her skirt into her underwear.

On arriving upstairs, she saw Trudy Hoffman in the hall outside the executive suite. Despite that Hannah had apologized to the vice president on several occasions, the woman had been barely civil to Hannah since being drenched by her.

"Hello, Ms. Hoffman." She smiled. "How are you today?"

The woman flinched as if she'd been startled. "Oh-uhh-I was about to drop off this report so Jordan could look at it before the weekly staff meeting this afternoon." She glanced down at the clear plastic box in which the country club had packed a thick roast beef sandwich, a side of potato salad, and a large pickle spear. Her lip curling, she held out the sheaf of papers. "I guess you can serve this to him with his lunch."

Hannah tucked it under her arm. "I'll be sure to give it to him right away."

"If you haven't already."

Obviously the woman wasn't referring to the report.

"I have to hand it to you, Hannah, your approach is as different as night and day from the rest. Your Suzy Homemaker act certainly got his attention."

"I'm not-"

"Save it. I've seen the way you look at him and dote on him." Trudy turned on her heels and strutted down the hall, calling over her shoulder, "Just remember, Sugar, even if he shoves up your prissy skirt and screws you senseless, you aren't the first, and you definitely won't be the last."

As Hannah opened the door to the CEO's suite, she stared at the vice president's back until Trudy turned the corner at the end of the hall. The woman's resentment and cynicism suggested she might have had a past relationship with their boss that ended badly.

Jordan considered Trudy Hoffman a whiz as a businesswoman. Was it possible she was Fatal Attraction crazy, too?

Hannah set Edward's gift on her desk and froze at the threshold to Jordan's empty office. Where had he gone? The only thing he had scheduled this afternoon was the weekly staff meeting in the boardroom at three. The door to the executive suite had been unlocked, so he must be there somewhere.

As she laid the report and his lunch on the desk, a loud clunk jerked her gaze to the open door of his gym. He usually waited to exercise after she left in the evenings, claiming it helped him unwind at the end of the day. Apparently, since he planned on working late that night, he'd decided to squeeze in some time in his gym while she was at lunch.

She poked her head in the door to tell him she was back, and the words clogged her throat at the sight of his barely dressed body. As he lifted and lowered the bars on the universal gym, the bronzed muscles in his broad back and shoulders flexed and rippled. The golden tan covering his torso and legs implied he spent his weekends outdoors in just swim trunks. Or maybe less.

Rivulets of sweat trickled down his body, following the delineation between his straining muscles. The afternoon sun glistened on the perspiration pooled in the hollow just above the waistband of his gym shorts. She dropped her gaze to the dark hair dusting his sinewy thighs.

He completed one last repetition, then slid down the bench on his back and crossed his arms over his sweat-drenched chest. With each abdominal crunch, the muscles in his torso undulated in a seductive, rolling succession. Finally, he stood, his sudden motion jolting Hannah out of her trance.

The champagne Edward had ordered for lunch must have affected her more than she'd realized. Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat.

Jordan spun around and smiled. "Hi. I was just wondering where you'd gone." He pointed to the window overlooking the entrance to the building. "I saw Gramps pull up quite a while ago."

"Trudy Hoffman waylaid me. She dropped off a report for you."

"Did you have a nice lunch?"

"Yes," she rasped. "Your grandfather was very generous in squandering your money."

"Good. You deserve it."

Her attention slid from the raven curls scattered over his well-developed pecs and down his six-pack abs to the ebony swirl of hair around his navel. 007 had never looked this good without a shirt, regardless of which actor played the part.

Except for the bobbing of his Adam's apple, Jordan stood motionless while she stared at him, mesmerized, breathing in the musky scent of fresh male sweat.

Ten, fifteen....twenty seconds ticked by. The longer she studied him, the faster his chest rose and fell. She licked her lips to summon up a drop of moisture in her parched mouth. An abrupt twitch under his shorts jerked her attention to his crotch, and she gasped.

He whipped his broad back to her, but not in time for her to miss the already significant bulge beneath the thin knit of his shorts, swelling and stretching the fabric into a prominent tent, making it clear he wore nothing under them.

The idea that her blatant ogling might have given him a raging hard-on sent a surge of pure feminine power flowing through her that made her nipples tighten into two hard pebbles and left a damp aching void between her legs.

No wonder all the women employees were chasing her boss. From the glimpse she'd gotten of his erection, it was apparent he was a lot bigger than Kevin who, if her ex-fiance's estimation could be trusted, had claimed to be average.

With his back facing her, Jordan toweled the sweat from his heaving body. "Uhhh-I hope you enjoyed yourself."

Her breath caught at his unexpected sarcasm.

Rolling her eyes, she mentally shook herself.

What an idiot. He'd clearly been referring to her lunch, not the brazen inventory she'd just taken of his anatomy.

And, oh, what incredible anatomy he had. She could imagine how impressive his aroused body must be naked.

What had gotten into her? A respectable woman would've had the decency to leave the moment she noticed his condition-not allow the sight of his arousal to excite her to the point it paralyzed her. "I b-brought you a roast beef sandwich."

"Thanks." He sucked in a shuddering breath and muttered through gritted teeth, "I'll take a quick shower first."

Undoubtedly a cold one.

Hannah rushed out of his gym, pressing her palms to her hot cheeks. What did she expect after stupidly using Jordan as her fantasy lover in her hypnosis exercises? Her relationship with Kevin had proven lusting after her boss would inevitably end in disaster. Only a fool would make the same mistake twice.

She wanted a life-partner and a father for her future children-not just a lover. And judging from the number of dinner reservations she'd made in the last month, Jordan Calder had more dates than her favorite fruitcake recipe.

According to Edward, even the board of directors had fought him over making his grandson CEO, claiming a man who needed multiple women didn't project the proper image for a company dedicated to promoting family health.

She'd already been hurt once by a guy who couldn't be content with just her. She didn't need that kind of pain again. Kevin's rejection had left her vulnerable and needy.

Hannah closed her eyes, unable to banish the image of Jordan in just his gym shorts.

Heaven help her, regardless of how insane it would be to get involved with a womanizer like him, she ached to stroke and explore those pumped-up muscles of his.

Every single bulging, twitching one of them.

Jordan braced his hands against the cool tile and spread his feet as if he were being frisked. He let the frigid water sluice down his back until his body calmed, and his breathing returned to normal. Shivering, he slowly turned the shower to hot. He never should've cancelled his date for that night. If frumpy Hannah, of all people, could turn him on by simply looking at him, it testified to how badly he needed to get laid.

Of course, it hadn't helped that she'd stared at him as if those cookie-baking elves had gone on strike, and he was the very last cookie in town.

What was with him? Seeing her kiss his grandfather when he dropped her off after lunch had made Jordan green with envy. He could have his pick of women, and yet the only one he seemed to want-hell, seemed to crave-was the woman his grandfather wanted.

The last thing he needed was her turning into another Renee. He'd never have the willpower to resist Hannah if he walked into his office and found his sweet new assistant spread out naked on his desk.

Damn. A lot of good the cold shower had done. Just the thinking about her had him rock hard again.

As soon as Jordan finished dressing, he devoured his sandwich while reviewing the correspondence Hannah had left on his desk for his signature. In between scribbling his name on each page, his attention repeatedly drifted to the outer office as if there were some sort of magnetic force pulling his gaze to her.

What was it about Hannah? He'd worked with infinitely more attractive women, and he'd never had trouble keeping his mind on his job. Sure, her sense of humor and sunny nature eased the stress in his life better than a long weekend sailing, but she was certainly no hottie. Although, in the last week or two, Hannah hadn't seemed nearly as dowdy or uptight as when he'd hired her. Maybe the hypnotherapy she'd mentioned was actually helping.

Whatever the case, for some reason, she fascinated him.

By two forty-five, all the vice presidents began arriving in the outer office for the weekly staff meeting. On Fridays, Jordan requested an informal status update from the various departments and a commitment on the following week's goals.

Years of management had taught him a lot was communicated at those meetings without words, so he'd always had his assistant take notes while he watched the body language of his subordinates. Though, after what had transpired earlier in his gym, an exotic dancer gyrating on top of the conference table would be less distracting than Hannah sitting next to him quietly scribbling on her pad.

A few minutes after three, a knock sounded on the door separating his office from the boardroom. "Yes?"

Hannah stepped inside, gnawing on her lip. "Uhhh, everyone's here if you're ready."

He stared at her swollen mouth and the rosy flush in her cheeks, and his tongue thickened. She should only know how ready she had him. The ravenous look on her face earlier had gotten him stiffer than an overdose of Viagra. If she'd just quit all her lip-chomping, maybe he could think straight.

"Th-thanks." He took the copies of the meeting agenda from her and held the sheaf of paper in front of his straining zipper as he stood. "You've still got a lot to do for the board presentation. I can handle the meeting alone today."

Or so he thought.

Several times in the next hour, he had to ask his VPs to repeat themselves after his mind drifted back to Hannah. Every time he recalled the way she'd licked her lips and stared at him, his groin throbbed.

It made no sense. He gritted his teeth and shifted back and forth in his seat, trying to alleviate the discomfort of his tight fly. He'd never been the sort of man to allow his libido to reign over his life. And yet here he sat about to explode in his shorts.

That would be a great sight for his employees to behold-him popping his cork in the middle of a staff meeting, all because he couldn't stop fantasizing about his assistant's luscious mouth on his....

Damn it. Even if Hannah weren't his secretary and even if his grandfather had no interest in her, he could never get involved with her, anyway. He liked her way too much to hurt her as he inevitably would. She was the epitome of a nurturer, meant to become someone's wife and mother-two things he could never give her.

Maybe it was why she seemed to touch a chord in him. Why he couldn't stop thinking about her and actually looked forward to coming to work each morning. The nurturing way she took care of him made him feel cherished. Something he'd never gotten from the woman who'd given him life.

A psychiatrist would have a field day analyzing him. His subconscious association between his mother and the woman he ached to sleep with was the granddaddy of all Oedipus complexes, making him a true Freudian mess.

Toward the end of the staff meeting, Bryce leaned toward him and muttered, "What the hell is with you today? You haven't heard a word anyone's said, and you're squirming like you have a severe case of hemorrhoids."

If only it were that simple. At least Calder made a cream to shrink those.

Finally. Hannah blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes and printed the handout sheets relating to the PowerPoint presentation for Jordan to review.

"Jordan?" She tapped on his doorjamb. "You told me to give these to you as soon as they were finished."

He glanced up from the papers he was reading and reached for the quarterly report she extended. "Thanks. He scanned the first page with the pie chart and nodded. "This looks great."

When he turned to the spreadsheet, his forehead creased in a deep furrow. "Half of these figures are wrong."

"What? They can't be. I just proofread them twice."

"I don't care if you proofed them a hundred times." He stabbed his finger at a number in parentheses. "I think I'd know if the Baby Care division is operating in the red."

He laid the typed spreadsheet next to the handwritten photocopy he'd retained and began checking off each number that was different.

Hannah leaned over his shoulder and frowned at the half dozen typos he'd already marked. She might not have been the fastest to graduate from her typing classes, but she had the distinction of being the most accurate. She didn't normally make many mistakes. Could she have been that flustered after seeing Jordan get so turned on?

Callie's warning echoed in Hannah's mind, making her stomach churn. JC's a fair man, but he's not afraid to fire someone who makes too many mistakes or spends her days drooling on his mail.

Two for two. Lord, she couldn't afford to lose her job.

He flipped to the next page, and his pen continued slashing.

One thing was certain. The next time Edward took her to lunch, she wasn't drinking a single drop of anything but water.

Assuming she still had a job next week.

Jordan leafed through the rest of the report. "More typos. What the hell is going on here, Hannah?"

"I-I don't understand how I could've missed all that."

"Do you have any idea how incompetent I'd seem if I presented this to the board?"

"You think I'd purposely try to make you look like a fool?"

His silence told her the possibility had crossed his mind.

"I can't believe you think I'd do something like that."

"I'm sorry. Please understand experience has given me reason to be cynical when it comes to women. You wouldn't be the first one to work me over."

"Believe me, I realize how important it is for you to make a good impression on the directors."

"I know you do." He handed his photocopy and the printed report to her. "Please accept my apology and correct this."

Shaking her head, she wandered back to her desk and glanced at the clock. It was already six-thirty. She couldn't spend precious time agonizing over why or how she'd messed this up.

She sank in front of her computer and keyed in the revisions, checking each number individually against the photocopy Jordan had given her. When she finished, she read it over several times to be sure there were no additional mistakes.

"Are you nearly finished?" He strolled out to her office and leaned on the side desk of her L-shaped workstation, casting a shadow over her and the computer.

"I've double-checked it," she said and handed him the printout. "But you'd better proofread it to make sure I caught all the mistakes."

"Let's do it together," he suggested, leaning in so close, she could smell his spicy aftershave. "You call out the figures I gave you, and I'll check them."

After rattling off the first column of numbers, she paused. "I'm not going too fast, am I?"