The woman’s killing me.

I’m not the kind of man who would normally even consider blurring the lines between landlord and tenant or boss and employee, but Summer is a walking temptation. Neurotic and obsessive-as-hell when it comes to work details, sure, but a damn cute-without-knowing-it temptation nevertheless.

She’s been a good tenant and an even better worker. Plus, she doesn’t simper or throw herself at me like a lot of women who find out my net worth. I’ve grown...fond of her, oddly enough.

But if she drags my ass out of bed in the middle of the night to talk about work one more time…

* * *

The man’s a saint.

Not only did Jason hire me for the greatest project I’ve ever run point on, but he also let me move into an amazing loft in his building as an extravagant job-relocation perk. Sure, he can be a grouch when I accidentally wake him up to go over the project, but he’s still a saint nevertheless.

He’s been a fantastic boss and a surprisingly protective landlord. But…when did his shoulders get so wide? And why is that growling voice of his making me all weak in the knees lately?

Also, is it still considered morning wood if it happens in the middle of the night…or something more?