Conflict of Interest (3 page)

Riley smirked. “I don’t need details. Unless he was hot. Like super, extra sexy.”

Kenzie’s mouth twisted, and she stared back at her sister. “He wasn’t bad. He had a nice car. That’s sexy, right?”

Riley didn’t look impressed. “So in other words he was kind of bland and dim-witted. Not so much out of the ordinary for you after all.”

Kenzie glared at her twin, not liking the implication. “He was gorgeous, intelligent, and did incredible things with his fingers.” And lips, and mouth, and tongue. “Better?”

Riley rolled her eyes, dragged herself from the couch, and brushed past her, talking as she padded into the guest bedroom. “Whatever. Keep trying to build up the lie, and you might start to believe it. I know I don’t.”

Kenzie spun, glaring at her sister’s back and struggling to remember why she’d hurried home. Her phone rang, postponing the irritation. She knew from the ringtone it was work. It wasn’t like them to call on a Saturday.

“This is Mackenzie.” She adopted her most professional tone.

“What’s your calendar look like for the next few months?” her boss, Greta, asked.

The lack of formality didn’t surprise Kenzie. Greta didn’t believe in small talk.

She didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. As a contractor, work meant getting paid, and she was trying to pad her bank account as much as possible. Early retirement wouldn’t pay for itself, and if she stuck to her plan, in a decade she’d be spending her time in a remote villa south of the equator. “I’ve got some room, what’s up?”

“We’ve got someone requesting a presentation Monday. They think it’s an emergency. For you, it’s standard stuff—out-of-control executive making his company look bad needs to learn how to act like an adult in public, that kind of stuff.”

Monday didn’t give her much time to prepare, but she was used to bouncing with emergency clients. She had a sales pitch on standby that she could slide into without a problem. “I’m on board. Send me the info and I’ll be there.”

“Already done.” The line went dead.

Kenzie shrugged and flipped over to her email, scanning the guy’s basic profile. Scott McAllister. Chief technical officer and half owner of a successful international software company, public bad boy. Great, a geek who didn’t know how to hold himself around his peers. As long as he was pliable, the job would be easy.

She clicked the email shut. She could read the rest later. This was a no-brainer job. She should really try and make amends with her sister and find out what happened the night before.

Images and sensations still lingered on her skin from the stolen time in the stranger’s SUV. And maybe spend some more time dwelling on what had happened that morning.

*

Scott pulled to a stop at the red light. He flopped his head back onto the headrest, not able to shake his smile. Completely anonymous, completely hot, and surprisingly brilliant. He was going to be using that memory for a while, wishing business hadn’t interrupted the most fun he’d had with a woman in ages.

His phone rang. Speaking of business and interruptions. That would be Zach’s fifth attempt to reach him in the last fifteen minutes. Time to face the music. He hit a button on his stereo, switching off the music and switching on the Bluetooth, hands-free system. “Hey.”

“Care to tell me about Vegas?” Zach’s hollow growl filled the interior of the SUV.

That had taken at least a day longer than it should have. Scott had been back in town since last night, and it had been at least thirty-six hours since the incident. Still there was no reason to fess up unless they were both thinking of the same thing. “You know what they sa—”

“Wrong.” Zach cut him off. “I swear, if you say ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,’ you’re in charge of employee reviews for the next six months.”

Scott’s mouth twisted in disappointment. It was an effective threat. “Lame. But fine. What did you hear?”

“Uh uh.” A loud exhale filtered through the speakers. Zach was smoking. This was bad. Zach never smoked on phone calls. “You tell me what happened so I know if there’s shit that hasn’t hit the fan yet.”

Scott sighed and tucked away the mental images of coffee-shop woman for use later. “It wasn’t a big deal. I stopped by the Digital Media booth to see what they’ve got going on. One of the girls was friendly, so we chatted. She may or may not have slipped me her room key. How was I supposed to know their VP of marketing was tapping that? Besides, it wasn’t like I was going to.” She’d laughed at all his jokes, but he’d had serious doubts she’d understood them.

Zach growled. “Tell me how this led to you pissing off one of our board members to the point he’s threatening your job.”

Scott’s didn’t have to ask who. Hank Cartee wanted his job every other week. It wasn’t much of a threat. “I swear anyone watching thought the entire thing was staged. He insulted me, I insulted better. And maybe louder. Just like that dumb-ass game of theirs with the stupid-as-hell gangsters who all sound like Harvard graduates. What was I supposed to do, let him call me a hack and just walk away?”

“Yes.” The single syllable was distinct. “You know how many eyes were there. How many people were watching.”

Maybe that was why Hank had canceled their meeting after. Scott kept the thought to himself. “So?”

“This is getting old, Scott.” Zach exhaled again, the breath echoing off the microphone. “The industry already thinks we’re a couple of incompetent kids who got lucky, and this isn’t helping. Hank is serious this time.”

Scott snarled silently at the speakers, glad Zach couldn’t see him. Hank was serious every time. A forty-something trust-fund baby from California with a bigger stick up his ass than…

Finishing the thought would just piss him off more, and he wanted to retain at least some of the buzz from coffee-shop girl. Still. The board was comprised of their investors—the reason they had enough cash to do what they did—so he should at least try and sound contrite. “I’m sorry.”

“How sorry?” Something shifted in Zach’s tone.

Scott hesitated; he was about to be manipulated. He might as well get it over with. “Very, very sorry. I know what Cartee has done for us.”

“All right, I’ll accept that. You coming over tonight?”

Scott glanced at the speaker spewing the disembodied voice, concern flooding through him. There was no way the conversation was over that easily. “As long as you’re not cooking.”

“Well, Rae’s not. She’s prepping for a meeting with the board, showing them pretty numbers that remind them we’re not morons.”

Double shit. Scott pulled into the parking garage beneath his building. “Are you done stretching this out yet?”

“Not yet.” Zach’s smirk was almost visible over the phone. “You can sweat a little longer.”

“I’m home. Tell me now, or I’m hanging up and pretending we never had this conversation.” Scott kept his voice even, making sure there was no room to misunderstand his threat.

Zach sighed. “Here’s the deal. You already know no one else is siding with him.”

No one ever sided with Hank’s calls to fire him, so why was Scott’s gut churning?

“But a couple of the other board members are tired of this back and forth between the two of you, so they’ve got a proposal that’s meant to put an end to it.” Zach emphasized the words. “All you have to do is play along, and then they can tell Cartee you’re not a liability, and everyone can move on with their lives.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you over-explaining yourself?”

“We have to bring in someone to fix your public image.”

“What? No.” Scott’s voice rose in volume, irritation searing through him. They wanted to do a publicity makeover on him? “I’m not letting some uptight asshole teach me how to act in public. I left that life behind for a reason. No. Fucking. Way.”

“Listen.” Zach’s voice softened for the first time since he’d called. “I know. I’d say I’m sorry, but you brought this on yourself. You already know this shit, so play nice until it’s over, and we’ll be all right.”

“Whatever.” He had no intention of doing so.

“Promise me you’ll at least pretend you’re going along with this for whomever we hire.” A hint of pleading wove into Zach’s voice.

“Yeah, I promise.” Scott disconnected the call without further formality. He slammed the side of his fist against the steering wheel, biting back a scream of frustration. The one thing in the entire world that could send his aggravation soaring was someone telling him how to do his job.

When his parents had divorced almost a decade ago, he’d jumped on the chance to break away from exactly that. It was the perfect opportunity to cash out his college fund, which gave him the spring board he needed to finally get his company off the ground and prove to investors he was worth their time. It had also meant for the first time in his life his father didn’t own a controlling share of his social and public presence.

And now he was going to have a board-appointed shadow stepping in to play that role of “say what people want to hear, not what you want to say.” Fuck.

Kenzie stepped off the silent elevator. A wall of glass stared back at her, the frosted name RINSLET telling her she was in the right place. A black-lacquered desk was visible from the hallway, and the leather chairs and coffee table in the front lobby of the office matched.

The girl behind the desk looked up and smiled as Kenzie approached. The receptionist was a stark contrast to her surroundings, in jeans and a baggy tee that hid any figure she might have had. “Good morning, can I help you?”

Kenzie didn’t know what to think of the place, but she kept her confusion off her face. “I’m Mackenzie Carter, I have an eleven a.m. appointment with Mr. Johnston and Mr. McAllister.”

“Of course.” The brunette gestured toward the seats. “Someone should be right with you.”

Kenzie perched on the edge of one of the overstuffed chairs, not wanting to sink in and have her pencil skirt slide up. The personalized snippets of her presentation skipped through her thoughts. She had printouts in her bag in case she needed paper visuals, her laptop was ready to hook up to a projector if they had one, and she knew her pitch backward and forward.

She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers on her knees, letting her attention trip around the room. Not that there was much to see. Prints that were mostly primary colors hung in black squares on white walls. The screaming coming from somewhere deep within the office was interesting. She wasn’t sure if it was cheering or cussing. Or both.

A movement caught her attention. A glimpse of brown, spiked hair as someone rounded the corner, walking backward, attention on a short blonde keeping him company. It couldn’t be him. There were a lot of well-built guys with brown hair. Her fingertips and lips pulsed with unformed memories from Saturday. There was no way. Why would coffee-shop guy be here?

He turned, and her stomach flipped. It was Mr. G4M3G0D himself. She had to clench her jaw to keep it from dropping open. He’d tossed a sport jacket and black tie over his T-shirt—his version of dressing up maybe?—and he wore it better than should be legal.

His eyes met hers, and she pasted a smile in place. He raised an eyebrow and took a step toward her.

The petite blonde—she had to be at least a foot shorter than him—grabbed his arm and spun him away. The woman wrapped her arms around his neck. He returned the hug, lifting her off the ground. When he put her down, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then whispered something in his ear.

Kenzie would have felt awkward spying on the intimate moment if ambivalence weren’t racing through her veins. So much for fantasies of picking up where they’d left off when she returned his jacket. Guilt smattered her disappointment. She shouldn’t even be wishing for another morning with someone else’s guy, but that didn’t stop her imagination from teasing her.

“Ms. Carter?” A deep baritone startled her, and she spun to face a man who must have come from the other side of the office. “I’m Zach Johnston. Thanks for making time for us this morning.”

She stood to shake his hand. He wore a pressed Oxford and beige slacks, and even made the ponytail of pale hair at the base of his neck look slick. He radiated composed and car salesman. But not used cars, she’d give him that much. Only high-end ones.

She took his offered hand, impressed at the firm, but not aggressive, handshake and warm grip. “Not a problem, Mr. Johnston.” She made sure her smile was genuine. “I just hope I can help.”

“Call me Zach, or this is going to get old fast.” His expression stayed pleasant. “Scott.” He only half turned away from her to angle himself toward coffee-shop guy.

Getting no response, he frowned and turned completely toward Mr. G4M3G0D. “Scott,” he said louder. “Are you two done?”

Mr. G4M3G0D pulled his attention from the petite blonde the second time Zach called his name.

“My fault.” The shorter woman broke away from Scott. She flashed Kenzie an apologetic smile, squeezed Zach’s hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then made her way toward the elevator.

Kenzie’s gut sank. This was her potential client? The guy who made his jacket-covered, Linux T-shirt look like something that belonged in a GQ photo shoot? The gorgeous stranger who had haunted her thoughts all weekend?

“This is Ms. Carter,” Zach introduced them.

“Kenzie, please.” She extended her hand. His grip was firmer than she remembered, sending a pleasant tremor through her. She pushed the thought aside. This was business, he was probably attached, and that had been a one-time thing. Or really not even a thing.

“Beautiful name.” Scott’s smirk was the same as she remembered. “Shall we?” He stepped aside and gestured.

If he was going to pretend it had never happened, she could do the same. Whether or not she wanted to shake the frigid shell, a potential client wasn’t the right place to do it.

They led her toward a conference room, once again with a glass wall, leaving it fully exposed to the world. A round table sat in the center of the room, and there was barely enough space for the four chairs around it. The seats were like almost everything else in the office so far: black, overstuffed, and straight out of a catalog.