Fair Game (20 page)

She sighed. “I’m in Los Gatos.”

This time when she said the address, he got it. When he stopped, he’d punch it into the GPS. “When will you be home?”

She sighed again, heavier this time. “Midnight.”

He laughed out loud. “You’re an obstinate little bitch, aren’t you?” He waited for her to freak out over the term.

“Oh, you have no idea how much of a bitch I can be.” Laughter laced her voice, which was preferable to heavy sighing.

There wasn’t a woman, or man for that matter, who wasn’t capable of being a bitch when the circumstances were right. With Josie, he didn’t believe bitchy was her natural state.

But if he wasn’t careful, she’d be sure to give him a really good taste, especially after he told her about the job. “Seven sounds better than midnight. That’s when I’ll be there. You’d better be there, too.”

It would be like her not to show up until midnight to teach him a lesson. She was a feisty little thing. He liked that about her.

She snorted. “Any more orders,
master
?”

“Not right now. Wait until later.”

“Fine. Over and out.”

Oh yeah. He’d have some orders for her all right. He’d make sure she loved every one of them.

 

 

 

EVERYONE thought Los Gatos was ritzy and expensive, and it was, if you lived close to town. Out by the freeway, the houses were quite a bit cheaper, but the neighborhoods were less cutesy, more tract-home type. Still, she liked her condo. In the three years she’d lived there, the trees had grown up, making it feel less like a concrete jungle. With as much as she traveled, her mom couldn’t figure out why she even had a place of her own. If she was so about saving money, she could have lived at home. Josie wanted the investment. She wanted to be a homeowner. She
didn’t
want to have to come home to her mother.

Her place was your basic two-bedroom, two-bath upstairs and large L-shaped kitchen, dining room, and living area downstairs. She had her own washer and dryer and a gas fireplace. What more could a girl ask for?

As she looked around, though, Josie figured she could have asked for a new sofa. Her mother had given her one from the pool house, and it was showing the wear: a tear in the flower-print arm, one side sinking too deep when you sat. All right, so she wouldn’t let Kyle sit. She moved a pillow to mask the hole.

Then she saw every spot on the carpet, every mark on the walls. The condo was clean. She didn’t leave junk lying around, but she wasn’t a neat freak, either. New carpet and paint were on the list of to-dos, but she hadn’t gotten to it. Just as she hadn’t found time to put up pictures or paintings. Faith would have made the place cozy, and Trinity would have been the essence of elegance. But she wasn’t Faith and she wasn’t Trinity.

Jeez, what did she care what some man thought anyway?

The clock caught her eye. Okay, she did have
one
thing on the wall. Good God, it was already six thirty. Grabbing the newel post, she flung herself up the stairs. She had to shower, put on at least a tiny bit of makeup, decide what to wear. She didn’t even have anything sexy. Except the stockings he bought her and those frilly girlie panties she’d embarrassed him with. Wait. What about that silk robe Trinity bought her for her birthday? She’d never even taken it out of the box.

Thank God she was a quick change artist. By six fifty-nine, she was showered, dressed, and made-up, even if her hair was still a tad wet. She fluffed it in the bathroom mirror, then rushed into the bedroom for those high heels she had stuffed at the back of the closet. The bell rang just as she was stepping into them.

“Nice,” Kyle said when she answered the door.

A bottle in his hand, he stood in the recessed stoop surrounded by a few potted plants that she actually did remember to water. His eyes traveled the lapel of her robe, the opening stretching all the way down to her navel. Though at that point, only a sliver of flesh was revealed. With the flare of heat in his gaze, her nipples peaked against the silky fabric.

Circling his fingers in the air, he indicated she should turn. She gave him a full three-sixty view of the short, white silk robe that barely covered her ass, and the seam of the fishnets down the backs of her legs.

“You dress up nice.”

It was his tone, not so much the words, that heated her. She liked the little things he said to her. “Thanks.” Stepping back, she let him in, closed the door.

“Nice place,” he said after a cursory look around.

“It is not nice. It’s adequate and needs work, but whatever.”

He turned, tipped his head. “Why don’t you accept compliments?”

She huffed out an answering breath. “You said I dress up nice. I accepted that.”

“Yes, but—”

“Is that champagne?” She shut him up by pointing to the bottle in his hand. Really, she didn’t want to get into some bizarre discussion right now. She was nervous enough that she’d let him into her house.

“Yeah, champagne. Already chilled.” Allowing himself to be distracted, he held it up.

She liked that he’d chosen something middle of the road, not terribly expensive, but not cheap either. “How thoughtful.” She noted that he’d taken her at her word and hadn’t brought takeout.

“I don’t figure you for a champagne girl in the main, but I determined this to be a special occasion.”

Because she let him come to her house? That was a comment best not acknowledged. “I even have some champagne glasses around here somewhere.” Trinity did love her champagne cocktails, so Josie kept the glasses on hand.

Her high heels tapped on the linoleum kitchen floor as he popped the cork behind her.

“Another nice view,” he murmured as she reached for two flutes on the top shelf.

“Don’t let it foam over,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. She loved his understated compliments.

He held the bottle aloft. “Perfect job.” Taking the first glass, he tipped it to the side, pouring slowly, expertly, without creating a head. “My ex loved champagne,” he offered when she raised a brow.

Somewhere along the way, she remembered he had said he was divorced. Five years ago, or something close to that.

He traded glasses with her and filled the second one, then set the bottle on the counter. Tapping his glass to hers, he saluted. “Here’s to a gorgeous, hot, sexy woman.”

She smiled and sipped, unsure what to say to that. Compliment him back maybe?

“And here’s to the new job I’ve accepted.” He didn’t drink, waiting for her reaction.

Her stomach plunged. A new job? She wouldn’t see him anymore. “What about the project?”

“Todd is your main contact now anyway.” His gaze remained unreadable.

“Oh. Well. Todd’s great.” She sipped cautiously. “Where are you going?” It wasn’t her business. He could be moving away. But if he wasn’t . . . Where moments before her stomach had dropped to her toes, her heart now started to beat faster. Seeing him wouldn’t be mixing business and pleasure anymore. She could actually call him up and tell him to meet her for a lunch quickie. Or after work. Anytime. No restrictions. No fear that someone might figure out her latest fuck buddy was also her lead project contact. Wow.

She was so busy thinking about all the possibilities that it was a few moments before she realized he was staring at her intently. He hadn’t answered her question.

She took a step back. “What?”

“Connor offered me VP of FI&T at Castle.”

Horror washed over her, goose bumps pimpling her arms beneath the silk. “You’re not taking it, right?”

He blinked. “I’ve already accepted.”

“But—” She stopped herself right there. She would
not
tell him she didn’t want him to take the job. She wouldn’t even ask why he hadn’t discussed it with her first. They were booty buddies, play-mates. He didn’t owe her anything. She didn’t
want
anything. Yet she couldn’t help the anger bubbling up. “So tonight was one last fuck for the road before you told me?”

He set his champagne on the counter. “I did just tell you.
Before
I fucked you.”

“Well, good.” Dammit it all to hell. “I’m glad. Because I’m not fucking my boss.”

“I’m not your boss yet.”

Hands on his hips, he was blocking the way out of the kitchen. She turned in a tight circle, barely restraining herself from slamming the stem of her glass onto the countertop. Instead, she set it down very, very carefully.

“When did you know about this?” Connor hadn’t said a word to her about a job offer. But he had asked a couple of times what she’d thought of Kyle.

“I had lunch with him last week.”

That
lunch. She’d wondered why Connor was meeting with him. “So you knew on Saturday.”

“I had an offer, but I hadn’t made the decision.”

Why did it feel like betrayal? For God’s sake, why did it
hurt
? “Oh, so then Saturday was the last fuck. And what was tonight supposed to be?”

His nostrils flared slightly. She was starting to piss him off. Good. Because she was pissed.

“I have no intention of letting tonight or Saturday be the last time.”

“Oh,
you
don’t. What about my intentions?” She tried to step around him, and the heel of her shoe caught on the edge of the carpet. She pushed past, kicked the damned high heels off, then turned on him in the center of her living room. “I am not fucking my boss. And that’s that.”

It was bad enough that Ronson—and everyone else, for that matter—thought she’d gotten the manager job because she was family. She would not, under any circumstances, let it be said that she kept it because she was doing Kyle.

“May I remind you,” he said, “that I haven’t actually fucked you yet.”

Semantics, dammit. “Well, now you won’t get to.”

He breathed in, deeply, as if striving for patience. “No one has to know. We can be as careful as we are now.”

“That is
not
acceptable.” He was crazy. “People
always
figure it out.”

“We are not ending this just because of a job.”

Who the hell did he think he was? “Then maybe you need to tell Connor you’re not taking it.” Jesus God. She didn’t mean that. Okay, she didn’t mean to
say
it. She opened her mouth to take it back, but once it was out, it was out.

“I want this job. I want you. We’ll have both.”

“That,” she said, turning and heading to the stairs, “is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” She grabbed the railing. “This is
my
career,
my
company. I will not jeopardize it for a simple fuck.”

God, she had to get out of this stupid outfit. She needed real clothes, not sexy bedroom things which put her at a disadvantage. She bounded up the stairs.

He followed. She should have known he would. Kyle wasn’t about to let it go. He wanted to win.

But she needed to. Because she was the one with the most to lose.

 

 

AT the top of the stairs, Kyle grabbed her arm, hauling her around to face him. “This isn’t a simple fuck.”

Josie shoved her hair out of her face. “It’s just a game.” Her breath puffed after her sprint up the stairs.

All right, he should have done her first, then told her during postcoital bliss. But he’d been thinking about it on the drive over and not telling her right away seemed like deceit. On Saturday, his decision had yet to be made, but tonight, he’d already committed himself to Castle Heavy Mining.

He leaned down, in her face, his voice low. “Saturday was more than a game. It was fucking fantastic. I know it. You know it. Admit it.” He wasn’t giving her up.

She backed up against the wall by the bedroom door. The tie of her robe came loose. All that gorgeous skin beckoned. He could barely keep from touching far more than her arm.

“As I recall,” she said, her smile taunting, “I didn’t even come.”

“And it was fucking hot without the orgasm, wasn’t it?” He damn well knew he was right.

Her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath, and she pushed back at him, ignoring what he said and cutting right to the quick. “I will not fuck my boss. I won’t have an affair with my boss. I will never give my boss that kind of control over me.”

That was it. She figured that if they had a personal relationship, he’d use it against her in the business arena. “Two separate things.”

“
Not
two separate things.” She put two fingers to his chest and shoved. He didn’t move. “Get out of my house. Because if you don’t, I’ll sue my
boss
for sexual harassment.”

Her anger was a living, breathing thing that seethed in the air around them. He hadn’t figured on that. He’d only imagined a little cajoling, some gentle convincing. It was going to take a helluva lot more than that. “So sue me,” he whispered.

Don’t do it. Don’t touch her,
a voice in his head shouted at him. He ignored it. Capturing her chin, he took her mouth, kissed her hard, forcing her lips apart. Then he trapped her against the wall with his body, bracing himself with both hands beside her head.

She bit his lip, lightly, not enough to hurt, just a warning. He took her deeper. Sliding his hands down to her bottom, he lifted her, rocked his hard dick against her. She squirmed, her throaty little noises filling his head. He left her mouth to bite down on the side of her neck, sucking her skin. She could have stopped him then, said something, kicked him, anything. Instead she tunneled her fingers beneath his belt, flexing them against the crest of his ass.

He dropped a hand to take her nipple between his fingers. “You want this.”

She gasped, arched into his touch. “Fuck you.”

Her body said it all. “Tell me how badly you need it.” He wanted the words. He wanted her to remember in the middle of the night. He wanted her to know exactly what she’d be missing if she turned him away.