“What the hell?” I uttered as she finally wheeled the thing up to my desk.

“It’s a new chair,” she said, her face beaming with pride.

“I see that. But why is it in my office?”

“It’s yours,” she explained simply, the smile never leaving her face.

“But I didn’t order it,” I replied curtly, looking at her with equal parts intrigue and hostility and maybe a dash of lust.

“You’re right. I did,” she said, her big brown eyes glowing, as her hands went to her hips. “You were complaining about your back the last time I was in here, and I wanted to be helpful. So, while you were holed up in here over the last week, I did some research on office chairs. Research is kind of my thing—although it’s usually historical research. Anyway, I love to hunt for information, so I made it my mission—since you haven’t given me anything else to do—to find you a better chair, and here it is!”

I was so dumbfounded by her sunny demeanor that I’d completely forgotten that Jude was waiting for me on my cell phone.

“Wait a second,” I said, holding out a finger, as I dragged the phone up to my ear. “You still there?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, amusement laced in each word. “And do I have some questions for you.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“I bet you do.” He nearly laughed. “Call me back, brother. Otherwise, I’ll tell Lailah, and you know what that will mean.”

Jesus.

“Fine,” I grunted, not wanting a nagging call from my sister-in-law, whom I had a soft spot for.

When it came to me, Lailah tended to overanalyze, scrutinize, and hope for far more than I was ever willing to give.

I quickly hung up, dropping the phone on my desk, before turning my attention back on the petite brunette who’d stumbled into my office just minutes earlier.

She was dressed oddly once again, and her dark chestnut hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, which only highlighted the fact that she was light-years younger than me. The shoes she wore, although technically a high heel, were chunky and scuffed, probably something she must have bought years ago. Even in the frumpy heels, her legs went on for miles.

What a man could do with legs like that.

“Exactly how did you pay for this?” I asked Cara, hoping to redirect the thoughts in my head from the asshole in the room who was checking her out back to the asshole in the room who happened to be her boss.

“That’s where I needed a little help,” she confessed. “Since no one was around to help me figure out interdepartmental accounts, I went to Lauren Drake. She works in accounting. I think she’s a VP or manager or—”

“I know her,” I said flatly. “Go on.”