Free Overtime Play by Kasey Moone

 
    Overtime Play
     
    Damn, damn, damn ! Mira Perrin leaped into a nearby aisle at the first sight of her sexy boss, Jeremy Rain. There were plenty of stores on the glitzy Atlanta strip that suited his expensive tastes. But no, no, no, he just had to make an appearance at The Dollar Place, the nightshift job that helped her pay the bills.
    For an entire year, she’d worked as a file clerk at the radio station he owned, filing papers in the large, downtown office. Dealing with inflated egos and bossy producers. She would’ve quit a long time ago, but she couldn’t afford to behave recklessly now. She had her uncle to think about. He needed help paying for his expensive medication, and dammit, she wouldn’t let him down!
    She crouched down next to the shelf and peered around the corner. He stood in the next aisle shuffling through a handful of children’s notebooks. She pinched her lips together as she regarded him. He looked so damn good.
    Tall, muscled, and fine. Dirty blond hair fell around a lean face that held intense, hazel eyes. A slightly crooked nose sat above pink, sensual lips. With his high cheekbones and slashing golden eyebrows, he could only be described as a pretty boy. The kind her momma warned her about.
    Her head craned up. Even though the shelves were the standard six feet, he managed to tower over them like a superhuman. The man was huge. Muscle-ripped to the core. He belonged on a rig somewhere, doing blue-collar work, not sitting behind a desk pushing papers. Mira let loose a girly sigh. She wished she was drop dead gorgeous like the broads he brought into work. Not a frumpy, size fourteen chick.
    Chill out, girl. So what if you got a little more junk in your trunk? You’re still as fine as wine.
    “I wish you were mine, Jeremy Rain, just this once.”
    He turned. Squealing loudly, she scurried back in the aisle, where she collided into bony legs. She looked up to see Roger Denkins, the manager of The Dollar Place, and scrambled to her feet.
    “Roger! I was just straightening the plastic containers.” Her fingers flew to the rubber food bowls in an effort to look busy. “You know these customers. They love rearranging the containers.”
    Roger gawked at her. “You need to watch yourself, Mira,” he ground out harshly, wiping dust from his slacks. “You’re too clumsy. This store is small enough.”
    Mira offered him her best smile. “Yes, I know. Was there anything else, Roger?”
    She braced herself for his reply. Roger Denkins. The worst boss on the planet.
    “I need you to restock merchandise on aisle seven,” he barked, eyeing her suspiciously. “I need this done ASAP.”
    “I’m on it.”
    “After that, there are boxes in the back that need to be unloaded.” At the thought of working in the stuffy, dark room, she mentally gagged.
    “Aren’t the stock boys doing that tonight?”
    “Well, they need a little help, and the others are busy in the front, so that leaves you.” A smile lit up his pimpled face. “You’re a big girl, Mira. You should be able to help the boys back there.”
    “Fine,” she managed, her temper close to the surface.
    “After that, I need you to work on the coupon books up front. They have to be ready by this weekend. It’ll be Memorial Day.”
    “Preparing for Armageddon, sir?”
    She meant it as a joke, but Roger glared. “Ms. Perrin, I take my job very seriously…” He took a step forward. Then another, the stench of pepperoni and tobacco following him like a dark cloud. “Some of us care about our careers.”
    She blinked. What was he trying to say? That she didn’t work her ass off? She suppressed a growl and gave him the evil eye. “I care, too.”
    “Then show it.”
    “I am.”
    “Then stop giving me attitude.”
    “I’m not.”
    “You are,” he spat, mouth set in a cruel line.
    Determined to hold her ground, she responded forcefully, “I’m not.”
    “You are.”
    “Stop being such an—” She clapped a hand over her