First You Kiss 100 Men...

‘‘And don’t call me Julie Beth. It’s just Julie now.’’

‘‘Done.’’ He extended his hand and gripped her fingers in his warm grasp. Julie felt a tingle surge all the way to her toes. ‘‘Welcome to Oltmeier-Matthews.’’

He released her hand much too soon. She stood there feeling awkward, wishing she had pockets in which to thrust her hands, the right one of which seemed to still burn from Hunter’s touch.

‘‘Now I suggest you take some time to go through the files and familiarize yourself with the cases. The information in them and the way they’re organized will give you a good idea of what we do around here.’’

‘‘Files,’’ she grumbled. ‘‘Spying would be more people-oriented.’’

Hunter picked up a few of the client folders from the open drawer and dropped them on her desk. ‘‘These are people. I suggest you treat them with care.’’

Julie released a disappointed sigh. How on earth, she wondered, would she ever meet any kissable men while stuck at this desk?

After transcribing the final sentence of the letter, Julie took off the headphones, typed in the signature lines and turned up the volume on the radio that crowded her desk. If she couldn’t enjoy the work, she’d at least entertain herself by listening to the prank call of the day. She blew a bored sigh when Hunter brought her another cassette tape jammed with dictated letters, memos and instructions.

‘‘Everything going okay?’’ he asked.

‘‘Hunky-dory,’’ Julie replied with more than a hint of sarcasm, and stuck a report on the stack of papers to go to Spencer in accounting. Truthfully, mundane was a more fitting description of how things were going. ‘‘You know, I really would do fine on stakeout. All this nitpicky paperwork is a waste of my talents.’’

Hunter reached over and transferred the report from Spencer’s pile to Priscilla’s. ‘‘If you can’t keep a proper handle on this ‘nitpicky paperwork,’ how can you expect to handle a delicate matter like surveillance, which requires so much attention to detail?’’

It would be different if the paperwork was relevant to something Julie liked doing. Like reporting. But spending all day shuffling papers for someone else’s projects seemed pointless.

Hunter gave her a smug wink and returned to his office.

Julie bit her tongue to keep from hurling a scathing comment at his retreating form. Instead, she turned her fury on the keyboard, jabbing the keys as she punched in the command to print the letter she’d just typed.

‘‘I’ll show him,’’ she vowed. If he wanted attention to details, then that was what she’d give him. Julie Beth Fasano would be so meticulous, so methodical and so, well, mundane that he would have no excuse for refusing to allow her on his surveillance outings. She would be so perfect, so particular and so persnickety that—

The printer jammed.

Unwilling to risk gobbing up the machine with paper, she went to the computer and hit a key to cancel the print job. The letter disappeared from the screen.

Julie stifled a scream of frustration.

‘‘Is that letter to Mrs. Huffnagle ready yet?’’ Hunter called from his office.

‘‘It’s coming along.’’ There was no telling when, but she’d get it to him eventually.

‘‘Great. How about turning that radio down a bit.’’

The last wasn’t a request, but an order. She lowered the volume and slid her shoes on in preparation to go look for Mr. Oltmeier’s secretary, who might be able to help her unjam the printer and retrieve her lost document. Spencer chose that moment to pick up the papers she’d been intending to deliver to him. He gave her an assessing smile.

In return, Julie pushed a jar of toffees toward him. ‘‘How much candy would it take to persuade you to help me with this stupid computer?’’

Spencer shook his head. ‘‘I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. But there is something much more appetizing that you could bribe me with.’’

One corner of his mouth lifted in anticipation.

Julie automatically assessed the accountant’s kissing potential. In the looks department, he was okay, despite the fact that he used a tad too much gel on his artfully styled, dark-blond hair. His face was handsome in a slightly better than average way, and his slate-blue suit gave an impression of good taste while carefully concealing the beginnings of a paunch. From what little she knew about him, Spencer seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t interested in him as dating material. Even so, he’d probably stolen his share of kisses and might be willing to enlighten her with the benefit of his experience. And give her something to write about in her column.

She smiled and self-consciously straightened the turtleneck collar at her throat. ‘‘I suppose that’s something we’ll have to negotiate.’’

He graciously let the subject drop as he moved behind her desk and hunched beside her to maneuver the computer mouse. While he worked to retrieve the document, the radio deejay chattered on about how many calls he’d received that morning.

‘‘I just don’t understand all the commotion over a silly newspaper column,’’ the deejay continued. ‘‘It seems like everyone in Richmond is asking who this mystery kisser is. And they’re all calling us, as if we should know.’’

Julie felt her eyes nearly pop, then struggled to maintain an attitude of nonchalance as the radio aired a conversation with one of the curious callers. Slipping her shoes off once again, she leaned back in her chair and worried how this might affect her chances for employment with the newspaper.

‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Spencer asked as he moused his way around the computer screen.

‘‘Nothing,’’ she said a bit too hastily. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Julie saw that he didn’t seem to notice her unease. Emboldened, she decided to probe for his reaction to her column. ‘‘I was just thinking about that mystery kisser they were talking about just now. I haven’t read the paper yet—did you see the column?’’

Spencer hit the enter key. ‘‘Oops.’’

Hunter chose that moment to emerge from his office and ask for the Lifeway Insurance file.

Spencer straightened and handed her the mouse. ‘‘Sorry I couldn’t help you.’’

After he left, Julie stood up to block Hunter’s view of the cryptic error message on her computer monitor. It was still her first day. The last thing she wanted was to let him know she’d managed to mess things up already.

He took the file she handed him and paused to stare down at her. ‘‘You weren’t that short this morning.’’

Without moving from her position, Julie stretched a toe toward the black mules hiding under her desk. ‘‘I, uh…’’ She gave a little laugh. ‘‘My shoes temporarily went AWOL.’’

He glanced down at her nylon-clad feet, then ever so slowly pulled his gaze up her body until his eyes met hers. He grinned knowingly, and the suggestiveness in his smile made her wish it was August already so she could give him another birthday kiss. ‘‘Perhaps you should ask Mr. Oltmeier’s secretary to help you retrieve Mrs. Huffnagle’s letter.’’

Julie hurriedly slid her feet into the recaptured shoes and made a move to leave, but Hunter stopped her with a hand on her arm.

‘‘Before you go, I’d better warn you that Priscilla is a notorious matchmaker. She has tried to fix up her bachelor brother with every single female in the office.’’

Julie smiled broadly. Another potential kisser.

Hunter appeared irked by her reaction. ‘‘Why are you looking so happy? I’m trying to warn you not to let her sic her brother on you.’’ He shifted the folder to his other arm. ‘‘And while we’re on the subject, you should probably stay away from Spencer, too. He’s totally trustworthy where numbers are concerned, but that kind of integrity doesn’t always follow him into his social life.’’

Once again, Julie felt like a ten-year-old being lectured by her older, more worldly brother. She clenched her teeth and accidentally bit her cheek. With a grimace, she sought to remind him once again that she wasn’t the little girl next door who needed to be reminded not to run into the street.

‘‘I’m stating the obvious here, but you’re my boss, not my date filter.’’

His eyebrows pulled together in the frequently used expression of his youth. He had done that a lot when they were neighbors, mainly when Julie had used her own form of logic to explain whatever mischief she’d managed to get herself into.

‘‘Huh?’’

She paused for a second, reminding herself that Hunter wasn’t normally the type to interfere in her personal life. The only times he’d ever butted into her business were when he was concerned that she might get hurt. Like the time he’d caught her trying to make an explosive out of cap-gun powder. So she sought to reassure him. ‘‘Thanks to you and Gran, I’ve accumulated all the savvy advice I’ll ever need. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.’’

‘‘Yeah, but you still see only the best in people, sometimes even when they don’t deserve it.’’ His expression turned serious, as it had when they used to hold their philosophical discussions about whether cats had nine lives or lemmings really committed mass suicide. ‘‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’’

She lifted her chin. When would he understand that she was no longer an impulsive child who needed his protection? ‘‘I can take care of myself. Contrary to your long-held opinion, I’m not an accident waiting to happen.’’

At that moment, the deejay announced his return from the commercial break with the sound effect of shattering glass. Julie started at the noise, and Hunter gave her one of those knowing looks that once again managed to make her feel as if he had read her very thoughts.

His response was a resigned sigh. ‘‘When you talk to Priscilla, ask her to block out some time every day for the next week to give you some intensive training.’’

He turned to head back to his office, pausing only long enough to straighten one of the stacks of papers on her desk.

Julie popped a toffee into her mouth and tossed the wrapper into the trash can. This next month was going to be a long, hard one.