My Dad's BossBy: Mia Madison
A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance
A GORGEOUS MAN drinking iced coffee was checking me out.
Under normal circumstances, that probably wasn’t too exciting. At the university, I got my fair share of male interest. I was twenty and in good shape. Men seemed to like my wavy shoulder-length honey-blonde tresses and blue eyes.
But now I was stuck at my parent’s house for the summer. Most of my friends were finding exciting internships, backpacking in exotic lands, or even just perfecting their tans at the beach. The most interesting thing I’d done lately was to sit in this coffeehouse, sipping Frappuccinos, and looking for a part-time job.
So yeah, a handsome man sending admiring glances my way rated pretty high on my own personal excitement meter this summer.
I had my laptop open to several job search sites, plus Facebook and my e-mail, but my attention kept going back to him. He was sitting a few tables away, with a newspaper spread out in front of him. A newspaper! Who read those anymore? But he was older than me, maybe in his late thirties. He wasn’t old, but I guess newspapers had played a bigger part of his life than mine.
A chime sounded on my laptop. It was Abby, a friend I’d taken a couple of classes, with wanting to know what I was up to. I told her a hot guy was checking me out.
She replied: Lucky you! Tell me about him.
Mmm, another excuse to look at him. From what I’d seen so far, he was definitely worth a second—and third and fourth—glance.
I responded: He’s older, but super hot!!!! Dark hair, a little bit messy in a sexy way, kwim? And at his temples, it’s a little salt and peppery. And god, his glasses. They make him look so damn delicious!
She responded right away: Shit, he does sound hot. Ring?
I squinted at his hand where it rested on the table: Nope!
Abby was enthusiastic: Then go for it, girl! Older guys know what to do with a woman. Trust me!
She’d dated an older man? She didn’t really seem the type. Then again, I hadn’t thought I was either until he caught my eye today.
And it was clear that I’d drawn his, too. He kept glancing over my way. When he did, I pretended to be absorbed my chat with Abby, but once I goofed up and looked at him right when he was looking at me. My blue eyes connected with his light ones, a gorgeous hazel that seemed to look deep inside of me. It was like every nerve in my body sat up and paid attention. God he was hot.
When he saw me looking, he raised his cup, as if to say cheers. I smiled, trying to seem confident but probably coming off as a bit bashful, if truth be told. A guy that looked that good had to have lots of women flirting with him. What did I know about men his age? They were real men, not like the idiot boys who hit on me in college.
Oh crap, I’d missed several messages from Abbie: What’s his build like? Body-builder or dad bod? Is he tall? Cassie, are you there? I need deets!!!
Hastily, I typed: He’s built all right. Strong arms. Broad chest.
I haven’t even said a word to him and already, I liked him better than most of those asshole guys at the college parties and frat houses.
Her response: Seriously, you need to go for it. You’ve spent long enough moping over your stupid ex. Time to move on … with an older hottie who knows what he’s doing!
Reading that made my face flush. For some reason, I did suspect that the man knew what he was doing in the bedroom. It was just something about his confident self-assurance. He wasn’t blushing like I was. He was just letting me know that he found me attractive. His confidence set him apart from the fumbling guys my friends set me up with.
Mr. Hottie picked up the newspaper and refolded it, setting it back on the table. In the process, he’d angled himself toward me a little, and now I could better see what he was wearing. A black t-shirt with a picture of a guitar on it. It looked great with his tan skin. The firm muscles of his arms and chests filled it out nicely. And black jeans, too—who was this guy, Batman? Very few people wore black in Florida in the summertime. But the overall effect was pretty enticing. I was sick of seeing guys who dressed like wanna-be surfers or clueless tourists. We got enough of both of those around here, and they definitely weren’t my type.
Self-consciously, I smoothed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. His eyes followed my movement, and somehow that pleased me. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in a year, when my high school sweetheart, Brad Harper, had cheated on me with my best friend, Stephanie Mills. The betrayal and loss of my boyfriend and my best friend had been devastating. I’d loved Brad so much and truly thought we’d be together for the rest of our lives. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I’d ever get past that relationship.