Victoria introduces me to everyone as we make our way around the different work suites. Even though the spaces are enclosed, each is visible through the glass except for one. She stops in front of the closed door and asks, "Ready to meet the big boss?"

Tinted glass covers the entire room, so you can't see inside. A gold-plated sign reads "Mr. Sebastian Cartwright, Vice President."

My stomach flips. I don't know why I'm suddenly intimidated. Everyone I met on the tour has been friendly. Maybe it's because of the stark contrast between his office and the others. Perhaps it's just first-day jitters reappearing. Regardless, I hesitate.

Victoria must sense my nerves. She offers, "He's always really busy, so if he doesn't have a lot of time, don't take any offense, okay?"

I square my shoulders and nod. "Sure."

"And he's really a big teddy bear underneath his persona," she adds.

Her statement only makes my butterflies flutter harder.

Why would she need to say that?

She knocks.

A muffled, "Come in," hits my ears.

She opens the door and announces, "I wanted to introduce you to our new intern who'll be working closely with us." She steps inside.

I follow and freeze. My heart pounds harder. Goose bumps pop out on my skin while I squeeze my thighs closer together.

No, no, no!

Not him!

The Dallas skyline makes a breathtaking backdrop, competing with the exquisite eye candy sitting in front of it. Unfortunately, it's the rude man from the lobby.

He looks up from his desk. Shock fills his expression, mirroring my own. He quickly catches himself, hardening his features and grinding his molars. A beam of sunlight streams through the window. It hits his chestnut hair and outlines his chiseled body as if he's somehow an angel.

Disguised as the devil.

"Sebastian Cartwright, meet Georgia Peach," Victoria declares.

He rises, furrows his eyebrows, and questions, "Georgia Peach? Is that a joke?"

Embarrassment mixes with pride. I've heard every joke under the sun growing up about my name. But it's mine, and I've come to accept it. Now that I'm an adult, I thought others would be more mature about it, but apparently, Mr. Grumpy Pants only looks like he has class and maturity. I pull it together and proudly state, "No, it's not."

"Georgia Peach, the cupcake lady," he mutters.

"Do you want one? I can go to the break room and get it before they're all gone," I retort in a chipper voice.

He stares at me as if I'm crazy, replying, "No." He turns quiet, assessing me, and tension grows thicker with every breath we take.

Victoria clears her throat. Unable to hide her uncomfortable tone, she asks, "So you two have met?"

He snaps his sneer at her. "Yes. In the lobby. Ms. Peach didn't introduce herself."

I blurt out, "I was supposed to know it was you?"

"Yeah. Everyone knows me. You're no different, so don't pretend to be."