If he had made an assistant or two cry, it had never been intentional.

“A busy afternoon working for me.”

“Well, yes.”

She didn’t sound nearly as confident and efficient on the phone as she did in her e-mails. Damien could practically hear her squirming. And it didn’t make him feel any better. It just proved she didn’t want to get anywhere near him.

Maybe she was embarrassed about throwing up under his desk. It had been an awkward first meeting, to say the least. Or maybe she had something wrong with her, like a phobia. But what the hell would explain her sprinting down the hall to get away from him, like he could swear he’d seen her do two days before? Fear of Technical Executives?

“Since you’re busy working for me, I’m telling you that you can take five minutes out of your task-filled schedule to come to my office.”

“Mr. Sharpton, I need to leave for my appointment immediately.”

That was the tone he had come to expect from Mandy, even if he never heard it in person. That sort of mildly reprimanding, prim and proper voice.

It kind of turned him on.

Damien shoved the sandwich away so he could rest his head on his hand. Man, oh man, he’d lost his mind. He’d thought that he’d held insanity at bay, but clearly it had snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking.

“Fine, I’ll just tell you what I want over the phone, then. I’m leaving next week for the Caribbean.”

“Yes, I booked your flight last week.”

“Get back on the phone and get yourself a seat as well. I need you to accompany me on this trip.”

Not really. And he wasn’t entirely sure where the idea had come from, but it was brilliant. Whatever little secret Mandy Keeling was hiding from him would be revealed if they spent five days working in the Caribbean together. She couldn’t avoid him. There would be no high-speed Internet for her to rely on instant messaging. No maze of cubicles to dart around when she saw him approaching.

Nothing but sun and sand and rum. And Mandy in a bikini.

Damien tried to picture it, but he saw Mandy so infrequently, his mind couldn’t quite dredge up enough details to make the image complete. All he had was a cute upturned nose, wavy brown hair, and sheepskin boots.

“What?” she said, her voice squeaking as it hit the T. “I thought you won this trip for your productivity. It’s supposed to be a holiday.”

He would go absolutely freaking crazy if he had to sit in a beach chair for five days and not work. His body didn’t know how to be idle, and his brain, well, too much time to think and there might be images of Jessica popping in there.