Tempting Her CEO

  Crossing the Line Series Book 1

  By: Alyssa Lee

  Copyright 2022 Alyssa Lee

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Free Gift

  Sign up to my mailing list and receive this FREE exclusive copy of Her Billionaire Fixated. Also stay up to date with all my new releases, giveaways, contests, cover reveals and more!

  Click here to sign up to my newsletter

  Book Description

  Roxie Stillwater’s father gets her a job with his oldest friend, the CEO of a software company, Griffin Graham. Roxie and Griff form an instant attraction and connection – but Griff is old enough to be her father. How can she have a love relationship with her boss? What will her father say?

  Roxie knows her dad will kill them both if he finds out. And yet more trouble arrives when Griff’s ex-wife decides she wants Griff for her own. Sneaking behind her father’s back makes Roxie very uncomfortable, but she’s helplessly falling in love with Griff. Nor does she dare tell her dad.

  How can Griff tell his old friend that he’s secretly dating his young daughter? Somehow, they must stop Griff’s ex from harassing them, and find the courage to inform Roxie’s father that they’re happily in love.

  What will her father do when he finds out?

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Other Books by This Author

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Roxie

  Mortified. Appalled. Embarrassed.

  I slumped in the front passenger seat of my dad’s Beemer, the shoulder belt creeping around my neck. In the case of a head-on collision, should it happen—please, let it happen—I’d be decapitated, bringing this horrible humiliation my dear old dad has forced upon me to an end. I’d die happy, having never faced my first day on my first post-college job with my pop tagging along.

  He glanced at me. “What are you doing? Sit up.”

  “No thanks.” I slouched further down, my skirt riding up my thighs. I hastily pulled it back down.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I eyed him, half-thinking that patricide was legal in some countries. Hey, justifiable homicide! Your Honor, my dad humiliated me beyond all possible endurance. I had to do it. I had to. Gavel bang. Case closed. You’re free to go. “I’m not six, Dad,” I complained. “You’re not taking me to my first day of school.”

  My dad, who was usually a decent guy—sort of, when I wasn’t humiliated and pissed as hell at him, like right now—laughed. “I told you, Rox. I feel I should make introductions. Your new boss was my best friend when we were in school. Look, you got the job on your own merits. You’ll be his personal assistant.”

  “I want to be a computer programmer, Daaad.” Sulking, I knew I’d just reverted to second grade behavior, but I couldn’t help it.

  Sure, human resources at this high-tech company loved my education and resume, but my old man pulled strings. Instead of being a computer programmer, I’d gained employment as an asshole-wiper to his buddy. I also needed this job. Dad didn’t need to point out that a foot in the door held it open. From wiping this guy’s ass, I could climb to where I wanted to be. I’m lowest ugly face on the totem pole—gotta work my way up to be the highest ugly face.

  Dad sent me a sly grin. “I think you’ll like working for him.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  My dear old Dad, Carson Stillwater—yeah, I owned that surname, too—just turned 47 a few months back. So my new boss was surely around the same age. Dad still had the reddish-gold locks he’d foisted on me, though silver ran through it like a river while mine still had time before the inevitable happened.

  He'd also passed on his green-gray eyes to Moi, his daughter, but I didn’t inherit his big nose, thank God. I received my mother’s daintier version with its small, pert lift on the end, as well as her small chin. Dad had that deep dimple, like Kirk Douglas, on his. My dimples sat on each side of my mouth where they belonged—when I smiled, anyway.

  I sure refused to smile now.

  “You’ll like him,” dad continued, turning on his blinker to make a left turn. “He’s a nice guy. Now sit up, slouching will wrinkle your blouse.”

  Sitting up straighter, I adjusted the seatbelt where it belonged and plucked the wrinkles from the lavender blouse I wore. “He might be a nice friend, but a tyrant as a boss.”

  “Nope. He’s a straight arrow all the way. Look, I just want to say hi is all. He wanted to hire you when I told him of all your skills, so I just want to say thanks.”

  “Hello? Pick up the phone and call, jeez. I’m going to look like a kid, Dad. Like I can’t be responsible to show up for my first day without a guide. This is sooo embarrassing.”

  “Okay, I’ll pretend I don’t know you.” He shrugged. “I’ll ignore you, ask to see him, you come along on your first day. Easy peasy.”

  “Oh, that’ll work,” I grumbled. “How many people will comment that you and I could be twins? Give me a break.”

  “I just did”—dad smirked—“by helping you get this job.”

  I flattened my hand and pushed it toward him, my palm outward. “Talk to this.”

  Not much ever fazed, my dad. He laughed. I like to think I’d also inherited his sense of humor, his easygoing, hippy attitude. My mom was the same way. Liked to laugh, hardly ever got angry, and never failed to make my friends comfortable around her. In fact, a bunch liked her better than their own moms.

  “I’ll pick you up after work,” he said. “Tomorrow, you can drive yourself.”

  “Wheee! I’m so thrilled I’ll be treated as an adult.”

  “Ooooh! Your sarcasm is making me all tingly inside.”

  That did it. I might be mortified, embarrassed, and any other adjective I could think of, but dammit, the man always knew how to make me laugh. He knew exactly how to jolly me out of a sour mood, which had happened more times than I could count once I’d reached puberty.

  I snorted laughter. “You’re such a dweeb.”

  “Hey,” he snapped sharply. “That’s Mr. Dweeb to you.”

  Whether I wanted it or not, I’d been jollied out of my sour mood. “Oh, like you deserve that much respect.”

  Dad puckered his lips and made smooching sounds. “You know what to kiss. And it ain’t my lips.”

  “Dad, you need to grow up. Seriously. Like, right now.”

  “What for? I’ll grow old, but I’ll never grow up.”

  I offered up a dramatic sigh. “And you’ll be the family embarrassment for eternity.”

  “You know what to kiss.”

  “You first.”

  He chuckled, then sent me a wink. “Oh, I think my buddy will like having you working there.”

  “Yeah, right, with you hanging over my shoulder like the Grim Reaper. How I’m blessed.”

  “Nawp. I make a quick intro, we swap a couple of naughty jokes, you blush because you’d never, ever heard such from me before, then I depart and leave you to your first important job.”

  “I’ll blush simply by having you there.” I nibbled my lower lip as he drove toward the tall downtown high-rise that housed my employment, and my big dreams for the future. “Do I look okay, Dad?”

  His big hand gripped my shoulder. “You’re beautiful, Roxie. You look great. You’ll do great.”

  “Thanks.”

  My first-day-on-the-job nervousness replaced my earlier humiliation. What if I screw up? This guy is the CEO of this company, big bucks. What if I can’t hack it? Then I’ll be the family pariah. “What if he doesn’t like me? He hasn’t met me. HR hired me, he didn’t.”

  “He hired you on their recommendation,” Dad said, turning into the lane that led to the underground parking lot. “And mine. And he’ll like you.”

  Dad found a space near the parking garage’s elevators and shut the engine off. He put his hand on my arm before I opened the door to get out. “Listen, kiddo,” he said, all humor gone, “you got this job on your grades, everything you worked on in school, all your projects. He didn’t have to hire you on my word. He hired you because he knows you’re an asset to his company. Remember that.”

  He made me smile. “Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear that. Now go away.”

  “Dream on, sucker.”

  We stepped into the gray, noisy elevator for the climb to the main floor of the high-rise. The butterflies set up housekeeping in my stomach yet again; fluttering, beating their little wings, making an utter nuisance of themselves. I hated feeling nervous.

  As he’d promised, dad kept a distance from me as we joined the business multitudes in suits, ties, dresses, heels, polished shoes, and sport coats into the elevators. He stood at one end while I stood at the other, watching with awe as the car climbed the floors. It stopped long enough to let folks get on or off, and then it continued to climb.

  I feel the air getting thinner and thinner, the lack of oxygen is making my head swim. Oh, I’m gonna pass out…

  I caught dad’s sardonic glance and knew he’d read my mind. I sent him a quick air kiss and grinned. He shook his head as though wishing he had no idea who I was.

  At last, the elevator slowed and stopped at the very top floor. Dad and I were the only ones to get off, and none got on. Of course, there wasn’t a hallway the doors hissed open upon. Hell, no. They slid open onto a tremendous and perfectly decorated reception area that surely had the same square footage as the entire tower.

  Dad approached the cute receptionist, his sneakers squeaking on the tiles. Lordy, my dad is squeaking. I really must disown this man. I don’t know him at all. Since my illustrious father still had it—had what it took to make the female head turn—the receptionist turned on her full wattage smile as he approached her massive desk.

  “How can I help you?” she cooed.

  “I have an appointment,” he answered, his charm oozing from his pores.

  I swear my eyes rolled all by themselves. I swear it.

  “With Mr. Graham.”

  “And your name, sir?”

  “Carson Stillwater.”

  She tapped her phone console, listened to the device in her ear, then said, her tone respectful, “Mr. Stillwater is here to see you.”

  She listened again, then said, “Yes, sir.”

  After tapping it again, she smiled at dad and pointedly ignored me. “Both you and your daughter should go down that hallway to the very end. Mr. Graham is expecting you.”

  Dad sent her his very promising and seductive smile. I very nearly smacked him. Hello? You’re married with children. Knock it off. “Thank you,” he purred. “That way?” He pointed.

  “Yes, sir.” She returned his seductive smile. “To the very end.”

  “To the very end.” dad grinned. “I like that. Come along, daughter.”

  Patricide must be legal somewhere nearby. Mexico, maybe?

  Used to sneakers, I rushed down the long corridor in heels trying to keep up with him without dislocating my ankles. We passed closed offices, many with blinds covering the windows, doors firmly closed, and it made me wonder what went on behind them. Merciless, dad kept his wicked pace down the hallway’s full length to the set of double doors with the company logo on them.

  “The halls of power.” dad smirked, then pulled on a handle.

  The doors opened onto an atrium. Thick gray carpet covered the floor. Potted plants stood in corners while oil paintings hung on walls. An empty yet very large and important-looking desk stood imperiously in front of yet another office beyond it.

  “Carson, you jackass,” boomed a masculine voice from the back. “C’mere. I’ll bet you got fat, you son of a bitch.”

  Dad leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Your new boss.” He then raised his voice, grinning. “Griff, you’re still as ugly as the north end of a southbound mule.”

  Dad, with me following, stepped past the empty desk and stood in the doorway of the halls of power. Since he stood in the middle, I couldn’t see past him to my new employer. I stood, nervous again, waiting until I could pretend I didn’t know this jackass, as my boss called him.

  “Come in, good to see you.”

  Finally. On dad’s heels, I traipsed into the broad and expansive office. A huge picture window stood behind the vast and ornate desk, looking out on the city and the skyscrapers. A thin veil of brownish smog drifted among them.

  I stepped past my father and caught sight of my boss for the first time.

  Oh. My. God.

  If Thor had flown down from Valhalla, Mjollnir in hand, to step in as CEO of this company, I wouldn’t be at all surprised. Griffin Graham stood still, as though pole-axed, staring at me even as I stared at him. His biceps bulged under the plain white shirt he wore. Shoulders a young bull would be proud of bunched as he leaned over his mahogany desk, his fists planted on the polished top.

  His deep, dark, Nordic blue eyes met mine. Though his wheaten hair had been cut into a tidy executive’s style, a few strands tumbled over his brow to give him a rakish look. He hadn’t shaved his strong, lean jaw and cheeks that morning, and a fine stubble lay across them. His full, sensuous lips smiled—at me.

  He straightened and held out his hand. “Roxie. Welcome to the company.”

  Chapter Two

  Griffin

  Carson had said his daughter was cute, but he’d lied, the damn son of a bitch. Roxie Stillwater wasn’t cute. At around five-foot-five, her thick, red-gold hair tumbling around her shoulders, her greenish-gray eyes on mine, she was drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, supermodel quality stunning good looks. I guessed the only reason she wasn’t a current supermodel was that she stood too short.

  Agencies expected their models to be tall.

  She stepped forward with her hand out, smiling, her perfect cheeks tinging a bright pink. “Hello, Mr. Graham. Thank you for this opportunity.”

  Even her voice attracted me. Low, a little husky, certainly musical, and very easy on my ears. Terrified my sweat had broken out on my palm before I accepted hers, I dared not wipe my hand down my trousers. A bad sign, that. “I’m pleased to have you on my team.”

  When our hands met and clasped, I felt an electric shock race up my arm. I know it sounds corny, something from a dorky and erotic romance novel, but I swear it’s true. Something significant passed between us in that moment. Just what it was, I couldn’t really say.

  I dropped her hand, fearing to glance at Carson. Surely, he knew what had just passed between Roxie and me. Did he not notice the instant connection I had with Roxie? I had to be so damn obvious. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. Nor, to her credit, did Roxie look away from me.

  Her face now a bright red, Roxie finally glanced aside. “Um, Dad said he had to come say hi. Should I go—”

  “No,” I replied, too fast, too hasty. “I haven’t seen him in ages.” Taking a deep breath, I grinned at my old friend, then shook his hand. I could have sworn 30 minutes had passed since I first saw Roxie, but I knew it had been only 30 seconds. “You didn’t get fat, you bastard.”

  Carson laughed, grasping my hand. “Not yet. Neither did you. Look, I also want to say thanks for giving my kid this chance. She’s worked hard for a good job where she can grow, climb the corporate ladder.”

  She can climb me anytime she wants. “I read her resume,” I said with a chuckle and glanced at her. “As my executive assistant, Roxie will learn the ropes. From there, she can go anywhere in the corporate world. Or continue to work for me in other areas, like computer programming.”

  Roxie smiled, her small but perfect teeth gleaming, her pink lipstick as enticing as the seductive yet innocent glance I received from her incredible eyes. “Thanks, Mr. Graham.”

  “Hey, we’re a tech company,” I said, chuckling. “We’re informal, as you can see. I’m Griffin. Or Griff, if that’s easier.”

  “Look,” Carson exclaimed, gesturing toward the door, “I’d better go. You both have to work. Rox, I’ll pick you up downstairs at five. Got it?”

  “Yeah, Dad. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  He kissed her cheek. “You have one now. Him. Now behave.”

  After a quick wink, Carson left my office and me alone with his delectable daughter. He closed my door behind him, possibly a mistake on his part. No, no, she’s your employee. Remember sexual harassment laws? Hands off the executive assistant.

  “Let me show you your work area,” I said, stepping past her to open it again. “Now, we’re informal around here, so don’t be shy. You need something, just yell.”

  “Okay.”

  She sat at her new desk while I leaned over her shoulder. I breathed in her wildly exotic perfume, my face close to hers, and showed her the computer system, the phone system, explained her duties. Intoxicated by her closeness, I reminded myself a dozen times in 15 minutes that she was young enough to be my daughter.

  And was my good friend’s kid.

  “You’ll go with me to meetings,” I said, my hip hitched onto the edge of her desk. “I’ll need your input after, so pay attention and take notes. I need you to see things I might miss, nuances, expressions, who wants to take my place, who wants to kiss my ass.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6