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Susan glanced up and smiled from under her tousled hair. Nothing got by her, no subtlety or nuance, and he knew she saw Dennis Moran almost as clearly as he did. He leaned back against his desk and watched her put on her boots. He smiled as she pulled the white gym socks over her stockings. She'd worn slacks to the job interview, and she'd never worn pants around him again.
He wouldn't have said anything. He'd hired her for her abilities not her legs, but she'd obviously taken one look at him and figured out he was not a man who liked masculine women. She'd let her hair grow out since then, too.
In fact, the only other time he'd seen her in pants was when she'd gone to a baseball game with him the week after Gloria had died. He'd caught hell in the papers, of course. How could Hizzoner take his buxom young secretary to a baseball game less than a week after his wife's death? But it had been Susan's idea, and she'd been right. He was still mad at the press about the whole thing, though. The photographs of Susan yelling for their team, and of her buying him a hot dog, and so on. And all the articles and captions making veiled reference to her figure and how she looked in her tight jeans.
The intercom buzzed and Dennis said, "Cruiser's outside, chief."
"Coming!" Susan called, standing up and stamping her feet to make sure they were all the way into her insulated boots. She looked up and grinned, miming a kick. "The boots aren't for the snow, they're for you-know-who, when he gets frisky. Serves me right for staying this late. See you tomorrow, chief."
"See you," he said.
Susan knew that her boss would tell Dennis to leave her alone if she asked, but Mike Sheldon knew she preferred to handle it herself. With her looks, fighting off wolves must be second nature by now. He waved as she left, carrying her shoes to leave in her desk drawer.
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