The Billionaire's Intern

She wasn’t fortified against the kind of magnetism he possessed, against that caliber of body. Wasn’t fortified against…whatever the feelings were that she was having. Feelings that seemed to have materialized as heat and localized in her face, her stomach and her…oh Lord. It was really hot in here.

She took a moment to look away from him, and regain her sanity, while taking in the rest of the room. It wasn’t a gym in any way she recognized it. There was…scaffolding everywhere. A thick rope suspended from the ceiling. A punching bag. No treadmills or ellipticals. No fancy equipment of any kind. A lot of it looked as though it might have been homemade. It was crude and simple. And looked well beyond her fitness routine, which consisted in a walk down the street to get a bagel and a latte.

Not that walking on the sidewalk was any mean feat. Especially considering these days it meant dodging paparazzi.

“What time is it?” he asked.

His words brought her attention back to him. And she tried to keep her focus on his face, and not his impossibly broad chest and narrow waist, which had now had the veil torn from them, so to speak.

Of course, his face was just as distracting, and now that she’d really noticed his body, it was even more so. And she didn’t even want to know why that was.

“It’s nearly one o’clock.”

He frowned and reached above his head, gripping the bar. “I lost track of time.” He lifted himself, with one damn arm, thank you very much, and curved his legs over the bar, hanging upside down. Then he curled upward, his chest meeting his knees. The world’s most extreme sit-up.

“Oh well.” She tried very hard to look anywhere but at him. “Do you often lose track of time?”

“Does it really matter to you, Addison? After all, you’re just hiding out from the press, aren’t you?”

For some reason, his words caused a rash of annoyance to rock through her body. Maybe that was the underlying reason for being here, but for some reason now she felt driven to do her job. And to do it well. Maybe because the recent events made her feel that she had no direction, no purpose. No father to please. No love interest for whom to transform herself into the perfect society bride.

It all made her feel that she needed to do something for herself. Even if, for now, that just meant doing well at this internship.

Succeeding in this was better than drifting. Anything was better than that.

“Maybe,” she said, “but I’m here. So it seems like I should try to do a little more than just coast through this. Anyway, as interesting as your workout routine is, I feel like we should discuss the job.”