Conflict of Interest (7 page)

He grunted and thrust harder, orgasm building inside and washing over him suddenly, draining him as he came.

Her rhythm slowed with him until they stopped, but his pulse was still hammering. He leaned over her, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

She laughed nervously, bottom lip catching between her teeth.

He kissed her softly before rolling to the side and landing on his back on the blanket. He stared up at the sky through the lack of roof.

She curled up next to him, head resting on his shoulder and hand on his chest. Her breath tickled his skin when she spoke. “So that’s what it’s like to let loose a little.”

He chuckled. It never had been before, but he sure as hell hoped it would be again. “No, that was better.”

Kenzie perched on the edge of the overstuffed easy chair, careful not to sink into it. Why did so many places think it was a good idea to have seats that swallowed their guests and were impossible to stand from gracefully?

Men in expensive suits milled like cattle in the lobby of the steakhouse, chatting with the hostess, with each other, with acquaintances they were far nicer to now than they would be once they parted ways. It used to bother her that these lunches truly were one of the last great bastions of the boys club—very few women joined their counterparts here—but she’d gotten used to it over time.

“Hey.” Scott’s greeting startled her.

His voice sent her pulse racing. Every time she thought about the day before, heat flooded her. She tried to hide her reaction by glancing at her watch before she acknowledged him. That had been physical, this was business. They had both agreed. She could do this.

Right?

He took a seat on the arm of her chair, and she resisted the urge to lean into him. Now wasn’t the time, especially not in public. The trouble she’d get in if anyone knew she was intimate with a client—whether or not it was impacting her work. She scooted away, trying to mask it under the disguise of studying his wardrobe. He wore jeans with more holes than fabric and an Iron Maiden shirt that looked like he’d buffed his car with it.

The professional side of her climbed back into control. She pursed her lips. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes.” He stood and offered her a hand.

She bit back a sigh at the familiar touch, pulling away as soon as was polite.

A tiny frown crossed his face and then vanished again. “Thing about places like this, they tend to frown on nudity.”

Places like this. One of the nicest restaurants in town. After spending hours the night before poring over Scott’s past—which seemed to start abruptly nine years ago, and she hadn’t figured out yet why he didn’t have a childhood—she’d realized he really didn’t have issues with the media or negative press except when it came to how he held himself professionally in public. Big surprise. He tended to offend people at trade shows, piss people off in interviews, and draw all the wrong crowds in hospitality suites.

She’d asked him to meet her here because the city’s upper crust held their business lunches here. It was always a good place to point out how they behaved and see how her apprentice showed up without coaching so she knew how much work she had left to do.

Some of the other groups waiting for tables—she’d been told at least forty-five minutes, and these men who were supposedly on their lunch hour were mingling and waiting anyway—were glancing at them and frowning as they muttered to each other.

Maybe she should have at least warned him what kind of a place this was. Those jeans were horrible. It was a good thing there wasn’t a dress code. But this was what she’d needed to see.

She forced her smile to remain pleasant. “They put my name on their list. I guess we have a little while to wait still.”

Scott looked her over, dark eyes lingering on her face for a moment. The corner of his mouth pulled up. “Your hair still looks better down.”

He turned away before she could reply, which was fine with her. It gave her a chance to hide the flush on her cheeks. She hadn’t left it down for him. She just hadn’t had time to pull it back that morning. She tucked a strand behind her ear and suppressed a growl when she realized he was making his way to the hostess’ podium.

“Scott.” She tried to keep her voice low, but threatening. “What are you doing?”

He glanced at her. “You really should have called ahead.” He turned back to the brunette, who was studying her nails. “Becca, how’s my favorite girl?” His greeting carried through the lobby, drawing more than a few nearby glances.

Kenzie resisted the urge to find a plant to hide behind. What was he doing?

“Hey, hon.” Becca’s demeanor shifted in an instant when she saw him. Her shoulders straightened, and she stopped leaning on the nearby wall. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You look good.”

Kenzie pursed her lips and watched the exchange in silence, realization dawning on her. He knew the woman, but how?

“You know how it goes.” Scott leaned in on his arm and rested his weight on the podium. “My boss is an asshole slave driver.”

Becca giggled—actually tittered and covered her mouth with her fingertips while Kenzie bit back a gag—and grabbed two menus from their hiding spot. “Your table is ready if you are.”

“Always.” Scott’s smile was warm and genuine.

Amazement tempered Kenzie’s inappropriate memories as she followed them through the crowded restaurant. He nodded, waved, or smiled at half the staff. Not only had he been there before, but he was on friendly terms with almost everyone. He was a little loud and under-dressed, but he seemed friendly enough. She still didn’t understand why his board was complaining.

Their table was near the back, away from most of the din. Before taking his own seat, Scott held out her chair for her and scooted it in while she sat. She tried and failed to ignore the warmth in her chest at how flawlessly he’d done it.

Their waitress was with them within seconds, filling their water and setting a bread basket on the table.

“Tanya. New haircut? It looks good.” Scott’s voice was distinct, even in the chatter-filled room, drawing more glowers from around them.

That kind of attention was bad, and it pushed away some of the lingering lust. Kenzie didn’t know if she should shush him or sink farther in her seat.

“Thanks.” The redhead fluffed the short bob. “Got tired of the baby wrapping sticky fingers in it.”

“At least she’s outgrown the spitting up, right?” Scott asked.

“Totally.” Tanya pulled a pad and pen from her apron pocket. “Getting milk puke out of these black button-downs is murder.”

Someone nearby coughed, and voices died down, the entire section growing quiet. Kenzie grimaced at the mental image invoked by the conversation and the attention they were drawing.

“I’m going to take your word for it.” Scott didn’t look fazed. “Is the special any good?”

“Fresh prosciutto-wrapped chicken with roasted cauliflower. Dessert’s a surprise.”

Scott looked at Kenzie. “You’re not vegetarian or anything like that, right? You like a good, thick slice of meat every once in a while?”

She should have seen that coming. Kenzie felt more heads turning in their direction, and the heat in her face grew. She took a long swallow of ice water, intentionally ignoring his second question. “I’m not vegetarian.”

“Sweet.” Scott looked pleased. “We’ll both have the special, and the calamari to start.”

Tanya looked at her. “Anything to drink?”

She’d have the strongest anything in the house if she thought she could get away with it. “A glass of the house white wine.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, gaze lingering on her as he spoke. “Coke for me.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Tanya assured them.

Scott glanced at his phone as soon as she was gone. “It’s noon. I’m already driving you to drink?”

Kenzie tried to keep her expression neutral. She wasn’t going to let him get to her. “You’re lecturing me on what is and isn’t appropriate?”

He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Some of us like people the way they are.”

Had she wounded him? No, the sharp edge in his stare screamed challenge. She pushed back anything else it made her think, like that stern jaw and hard mouth sliding down her throat. “I like you just fine.” Her voice was firm. “But sometimes you have to play by other people’s rules to get things done.”

“Right, of course.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but his clenched jaw kept any words from coming out.

She needed to change the subject to something he wasn’t dead set against. They could work more on his behavior in public when he wasn’t already on the defensive. “Are you free all afternoon?”

He relaxed and leaned forward, posture casual. “I’ve cleared my calendar just for you.”

She didn’t know if that was enticing or just arrogant. Or maybe both. She forced her demeanor to stay neutral. “Great. I was thinking we’d go shopping. Get you something more appropriate to wear to business meetings.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to show me how to dress.” It wasn’t a question.

She pursed her lips. “It’s not like I’m going to throw out your jeans, though if you’ve got any that are rattier than that, you probably can’t wear them in public anyway. You just need a couple of Oxfords and some slacks for when it’s appropriate.” She kept the tailored suit suggestion to herself. One step at a time.

“Of course.” He winked at her. “When do we play
My Fair Lady
?” His voice grew shrill. “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.” He enunciated every word, drawing another round of glares from nearby tables.

A musical reference. That held promise. But his delivery wasn’t doing it for her. She lowered her voice, leaning over the table and growling. “Stop. You need to learn how to behave in public instead of acting like a spoiled frat boy with a trust fund.”

“So sorry.” His playful expression vanished, and his lips clamped shut.

He genuinely looked wounded. Why had she said that? And if he stopped listening, how was she going to get her point across?

An awkward silence descended over them. When the waitress brought out their appetizer, Scott was just as friendly and brash as before, and Kenzie wanted to plug her fingers in her ears and crawl under the table at the graphic conversation about breast feeding and pumping.

Tanya left, and Scott sighed. He dipped a battered piece of squid in sauce and chewed thoughtfully. He nodded at the bar. “See the bottles lining the back wall?”

Kenzie glanced at the multicolored glass for a brief second and then went back to staring at her plate. “Yes.”

“Michele—the man who owns the bar—collects them. Every time he visits a new city or country, he makes it a point to find a gorgeous wine bottle, something unique, to add to his collection. He’s got killer stories about every one of them.”

Kenzie wanted to ask more, but fear of saying the wrong thing again kept her from diving into the conversation. She wanted to do playful banter and get her job done at the same time. Was that too much to ask? “They’re very pretty.”

Scott shrugged. “Are you going to have any calamari?”

She shook her head.

“You’re not allergic are you? You should have said something.”

“I’m not allergic.”

He nodded toward a side window. It faced an alley lined with cars. Several plant boxes decorated the bottom of the plate glass, diluting the ugliness on the other side.

“Do you like the flowers?” he asked.

What was he doing? “They’re flowers. They’re pretty enough.”

Her lack of input didn’t seem to deter him. “The fuchsia ones only bloom for about a week, and always this time of year. They’ve always been one of my favorites. Bright and vibrant and not afraid to take a stand when it’s time, fading back when it’s someone else’s turn.”

She studied his face, looking for some sort of hint that he was trying to tell her something, but his blank expression stared back. Still, she was mildly impressed he knew what fuchsia was. She nodded toward a different box of flowers. “I like the violets better.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up. “I’m not surprised.”

Presumptuous ass. “Oh?”

He speared another piece of calamari and dipped it in sauce, but didn’t eat it. “They match your purse. In fact, every time I’ve seen you, you’ve been wearing something that color, even if it was just the elastic you held back your ponytail with.”

He had noticed? She couldn’t deny the flutter in her chest. Maybe that was his problem then. He was so resistant to change because he was gay and couldn’t admit it to himself or something. Memories of the day before taunted her—his strong hands sliding over her curves, the way he kissed her … she flushed. No she was pretty sure he was straight.

He leaned across the table, holding out the fork. “Just take one bite?”

She accepted with the warmth inside growing as he fed her.

“Well?” He watched her hopefully.

She made a presentation of chewing and swallowing, washing it down with a sip of wine. “It’s really good,” she admitted begrudgingly. Like, really good. She wasn’t used to her seafood being prepared so well. She grabbed her own fork and took another bite.

His foot brushed her shin under the table, and he winked at her. “Careful, your professionally crafted mask is slipping.”

She overlooked the subtle jab in favor of concentrating on the brief, teasing contact. “I did some research on you last night.”

He twirled his straw in his drink, ice clinking against the glass. “Sounds like a boring read.”

“Actually, it was really interesting. Two kids barely in their twenties find the funding to make it big in the software industry, only to have it ripped away by a spiteful ex-girlfriend and a vicious competitor. And then to come back and do it a second time before you were thirty. I’m impressed.”

His focus stayed on his glass. “It was something I believed in, so I made it happen.”

Was he actually embarrassed? She was starting to wonder if he was capable. “It is a big deal. It reads like a high-stakes fairytale. But one thing did make me curious.”