Free God's Eye by A.J. Scudiere

She
had
to wait him out. She was just too smart to bank on anything this early. But she’d never felt like this before. Surely that counted for something. And maybe she wouldn’t–couldn’t–bank on anything just yet, but she could dream a little, couldn’t she?
    He walked her all the way down to Lisa’s desk, where he kissed her lightly and whispered that he’d see her later. As he stepped back, her office door opened and the sight of Allistair, tall and almost menacing, slapped her with the sudden memory that he was there.
    While she’d been out at lunch with Zachary she’d forgotten that her new assistant even existed. Eyes as dark as ocean depths focused on her mouth accusingly, as though he could see some kind of mark or stain from the kiss that Zachary had left there. Beside her, Zachary stiffened–it was the only thing that could have pulled her away from Allistair’s riveting stare. Her gaze swung up in time to see Zachary’s cool skin flush with what must be anger and his warm blue eyes turn to shades of ice.
    Her own eyes felt large as saucers, until something finally snapped and she finally remembered the years of etiquette that should never have escaped her for this long. “Zachary, this is Allistair West … He’s my new trainee.” She offered up the explanation when she suddenly realized what Zachary must think to find another man waiting for her behind her closed office door. Why hadn’t she thought to mention him before, to tell Zachary that she had a trainee who was taking over her office and her job … it was so big, how had she possibly missed it?
    Scrambling for safe conversational ground, Katharine stumbled. “Allistair, this is Zachary Andras, my–”
    Shit.
She was at a loss on that one. She couldn’t for the life of her think of what the proper term was, even though she had sat through specific lessons in introductions, and more than one on unusual or improper situations. What was he? She’d slept with him, gone out a few times. She would
not
say “lover,” not on pain of death. But was he her–
    “Boyfriend.” Zachary supplied with smooth tones that indicated the steel behind the single word.
    “Nice to meet you.” Allistair’s hand shot out, and though the gesture was appropriate, Katharine could see he really thought it was anything but.
    Zachary merely nodded in return and clasped the other man’s hand. Katharine would have sworn she saw sparks fly. She had a brief hysterical moment and considered jumping between them, tearing their grip apart. But she didn’t have to. The handshake was disturbing but brief, and they pulled their own hands apart soon enough.
    They were dressed like reasonable men, in ties and button-front shirts, but they regarded each other more like gladiators in the ring or lions who met at the edge of the territory each had marked. Katharine didn’t like where that last analogy left her–didn’t like the thought that she was an object to be fought over. Deciding the only way to defuse the situation was to remove the two men from each other’s presence, she turned to Zachary and placed her hands against his chest. She tried for a light tone that belied the tension swirling in the hallway, “I really need to get back to work now. Lunch is over.”
    His grin wasn’t as warm as it had been before. “I’ll see you tonight.” He said it loud and clear, staking his claim for any and all within earshot. Then he leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers, and for the first time it didn’t feel warm and focused on her–it was definitely a show for the other alpha male in the vicinity. Finally, with another stare that would have withered anyone else, Zachary left.
    When Katharine sighed in relief and turned, Allistair still stood in the doorway, his hands braced on either side of the frame, making it impossible for her to walk gracefully back into her own office. So she waited. Luckily, he didn’t make her wait long.
    “For the record, I don’t