The Virgin Intern

By: Penny Wylder

Andrew gives me a final glance—that totally steals my breath away—and leaves. I go back to my stapling, desperately hoping that my uncle won’t see the residual embarrassment—or toner—hanging off me.



“That’s Andrew Finch.”

In my head, everything clicks. My uncle has been going on and on about a senior partner named Finch whom he can’t stand. In Uncle Roger’s words, the partner is an upstart who’s angling to take over the firm and always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I always liked the sound of anyone who could ruffle my uncle’s feathers. Now I can see it’s not just that he’s an upstart, it’s that he’s young and handsome and already very successful at his job.

“You’re going to be seeing a lot of him,” my uncle goes on, “because he and I are working the Sterling murder case together, even if I don’t like it.”

I shuffle several more papers together and clear my throat. “Why put him on the case if you dislike him so much?”

“Keep your enemies close,” he says grimly. “He’s going to try to make a move for name partner, and maybe managing partner. I want him close by so I can see what he’s doing before he actually does it. And make no mistake, if he sees an opportunity to use you against me, he’ll try. So watch yourself, for my sake and yours.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course.”

He looks at me a moment, and I think he’s going to ask about what just happened with Andrew before he came in. But he doesn’t. I breathe out a sigh of relief as he turns to go.

“Bring those in as soon as they’re done,” he says.

I snap back, “I will.” Even though he’s already gone and can’t hear my reply.

Miraculously the copier doesn’t break again. Seven ridiculously large packets of paper coming right up.

The meeting has already started when I finish, but just barely. For the record, I would have been perfectly on time without the paper-jam-and-handkerchief fiasco. Thankfully no one even looks at me when I come in. Actually, that’s not true. Andrew looks at me. He swivels brazenly toward me with a smile that makes butterflies magically appear in my stomach.

I place each packet in front of a partner, trying my best to be quiet and invisible. When I finally get to Andrew, he takes his packet directly from me and says, “Thank you, Naomi.”

My uncle stops, and looks at us, and I feel all the air get sucked out of the room at once. “Yes,” Uncle Roger says, “Thank you, Naomi. That will be all.”

I drop my eyes and nod as I hand my uncle his original files and make for the door. I look back just before I leave, and see that Andrew is still staring at me. He winks, and all the butterflies in my stomach drop dead as my stomach falls right down to my shoes.

I practically run back to my office, where I flop into the chair. It feels like I’ve already been here a year, and it’s only been half a day. ‘Believe me, I will too,’ Andrew said. Which means he’s going to think about me, or more specifically, how he’d get me clean.

Can’t really get cleaner than me, virgin that I am. Which is why it will never happen. Men like that never want women like me—inexperienced and shy. The minute they hear virgin they run for the door. That’s probably best in this case. Besides, my uncle would murder me, and it’s my first day. I’m new to the law world, but I’m pretty sure a paralegal screwing a senior partner is something that’s frowned on.

I’m going to think about it though. Think about him and all the non-existent possibilities. Think about what it would be like to be wanted by someone like that. Someone powerful and sexy and totally unashamed. Think about him thinking about me, and what that means.

Believe me, I will too. His words echo in my mind and far too many fantasies spring to life in my mind. I squeeze my thighs together under the desk and press a cool hand to my hot cheek.

Man, am I in trouble.

Chapter 2

For the third day in a row I wake up flushed. Damn dreams. Damn Andrew.

It feels like he’s made it his mission to run into me whenever possible at the office—and every time he does, all I do is trip over myself. His winks and smiles and innuendos almost make me question whether or not my uncle is right and he’s just using me. But that moment in the copy room is still there. I can’t pretend that wasn’t real.

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