“That’ll give them business skills,” Carina said. “You’re really good with them, but how do you know they can’t keep a steady job? Have you properly motivated them?”
She could be right. He’d made assumptions about them based on what? Stereotypes?
“I could try, yeah, sure,” he mumbled and lengthened his stride. “Race you back to the apartment.”
“Give me a head start.” Carina sprinted down the path along Strawberry Creek.
They ran past a small bronze bear and crossed a bridge before she slowed to a walk, clutching her side. “What are you trying to do, kill me?”
He dabbed sweat off the tip of her nose with his finger. “I like my women hot and sweaty. Want to see if we both fit in the shower together?”
Her eyes opened wide. “Oh no, not falling for the old shower trick.”
Bantering with Carina was lots of fun. Baiting her, even more. Dylan grabbed her around the waist and tickled her while exaggeratedly sniffing her. “Stinkie needs a shower. Pee-yew!”
“Stop it, you.” She dug her fingers into his armpits. “Ewee, yuck. Sweaty pits.”
They bothered each other all the way to his apartment, but as soon as he opened the door, Carina stopped playing.
She stepped in, her arm crossed over her damp tank top. “I should probably grab my things and get going.”
“So soon?” Dylan said. “I didn’t mean to scare you earlier about the shower.”
“I don’t scare easily.” Carina marched toward her old room where she’d left her work clothes. She made a show of yawning.
Dylan framed himself at her door. “Don’t close your eyes, because I’m going for the shower if you aren’t.”
He snugged his shirt over his shoulders and threw it across the room. Palming the back of his head, he tightened his abdominal muscles and rolled his hips.
Carina covered her mouth and backed into her bed, her eyes glued to the bulge below his waist.
“Like what you see?” He rubbed his chest and sides while prowling toward her. His focus intent on his prey, he slipped one finger under his waistband. “Let’s see how brave you really are. Shall I drop the shorts?”
Her knees gave out and she sagged onto her bed. The gym bag slipped off her shoulder. Her chest rose and she wet her lips, drawing shallow breaths.
Oh yeah, getting you turned on. You like this don’t you?
He stopped in front of her, his torso in front of her face. A drop of sweat beaded between the groove in the center of his abdominals.
Go for it, sweetheart. Go on, touch.
Tentatively, Carina reached out and pressed her palm over his belly, her wrist barely clearing the tent inside his shorts.
“What are we to each other?” she asked.
What the? This girl was full of trick questions. Dylan brushed himself over her. “Does it matter?”
She embraced him and pulled him onto the bed. “I want to mean something to you.”
Dang. She was tough and persistent. Most women said nothing until the deed was done.
“I gave you the heart, didn’t I?” It still dangled around her neck, right over her cleavage.
She rolled onto her side and removed it, leaving it on the nightstand. “Maybe I’m not ready to sleep with you.”
Talk about being smashed over the head by an iceberg. Dylan turned onto his back and slammed a fist onto his chest. “Ouch. That hurts. You just broke my heart.”
Carina straddled his hips and rubbed her crotch over his erection. A jolt of pure pleasure surged from Dylan’s groin. Shit. What the heck was she trying to pull?
She bent over him, her hands on his chest. “Tell me what I mean to you and then we’ll play.”
“You mean everything, the world, the known and unknown universe, every atom and molecule, every word and beat of my heart. I care a lot about you, Carina.” What more could he say when she had that friction going? And where had she learned how to torture a man so well?
Her hair swept over his face and her breath caressed him. “That’s not good enough.”
She slid herself over the bulge in his shorts, drawing a long moan from him.
“You don’t play fair.” His voice was low and raspy. “What do you want?”
“You to do better in your life. Be more successful, fulfill your potential. Make me proud of you.”
The blood froze in Dylan’s veins. Why was Carina sounding like a pushy parent?
“Would that make you happy?” he asked.
“Yes. I want what’s best for you.” Her smile stretched across her face, but at that moment it gleamed almost creepy, almost like the sarcastic grin Rebecca had given him when he’d told her he was going to grow organic vegetables, serve coffee, and play guitar for the rest of his life.
He closed his eyes when Carina lowered her lips over his and rolled her groin against his cock. Latching onto her, Dylan pressed her body tight against him, kissing her hungrily, greedily, with the single thought running through his mind.
You, Carina, you are what’s best for me.
Chapter 21
A few hours later, Carina strode from the BART station to her office building. The sun was setting, lengthening the shadows, and she felt a chill despite the mild July evening.
Warm shivers lingered over her body. She and Dylan had messed around on the bed, touched and petted and caressed. But she hadn’t gone further, and he hadn’t pushed. Of course her ringing phone cut their make-out session, but she did learn some tricks with the tongue kissing. Whoever knew the upper palate could be so sensitive?
She swiped her badge in front of the card reader and opened the lobby door. Rebecca wanted her to rework the slides for the acquiring CEO presentation. Dylan had scowled at hearing she had to return to work, but had kissed her tenderly at the door, asking her to return to his apartment.
Twinges of guilt sparked inside Carina’s belly. Dylan cared about her, thought highly of her. But he definitely didn’t look like he wanted to follow her advice about improving himself. Nope. He’d shot her a penetrating look, almost hostile, when she talked about success before she hurriedly kissed him and made him forget what she’d suggested.
She texted Rebecca: I’m on my way up.
Her reply came back a few seconds later: Good. I let you out to play with Dylan. Have you made any progress?
She texted: Yes, but we have to talk.
If Dylan didn’t go with the program, she’d be screwed. She really needed this job, and Mogul was her last shot at investment banking. If she couldn’t convert the internship to a full time offer, she’d have to settle for retail banking or consulting, that is, if she could even get her foot in the door somewhere else.
Emerging from the elevator, she headed straight to Rebecca’s office. If she had the balls, she’d tell Rebecca to leave Dylan alone. A pre-nup was only fair, given his father’s status, and if Rebecca really loved him, she shouldn’t care about it. After all, the reward would be marrying the man, not gaining control of his possessions.
“There you are.” Rebecca rose from her chair and stretched. “Looking all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Tell me about Dylan.”
Carina took a deep breath, her heart pumping furiously. “I can’t do this anymore. Dylan will do what he wants to do.”
“Excuse me?” Rebecca swept a finger through her hair. “Where’s this coming from?”
“He has feelings for me and I’m using him.”
Rebecca clapped slowly. “That’s great progress. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m not proud of myself.” Carina stared at the curly vines on the green Aubusson rug under Rebecca’s feet. Hurting Dylan was the last thing she wanted to do. He was the sweetest, most perfect man in the world, and he definitely didn’t deserve her plotting with his future stepmother to get him to knuckle down to his father’s demands.
Rebecca put her hands on her hips. “This morning you were worried about your job. I gave you a chance—not just to keep your job, but to p
resent the Crowns and Thrones business case.”
“I know, and I truly appreciate the opportunity,” Carina said. “But doesn’t my work stand on its own? I’m accurate, work really hard and get along with my peers. I’m also on top of industry trends, quick on my feet, and a decent presenter.”
Rebecca swung an arm around her. “Everything you say is true, but what distinguishes you from the other interns? Everyone has to have an edge.”
“Yes, but if I had never roomed with Dylan, I wouldn’t be put in the position of having to influence him.”
Rebecca’s eyebrows lowered. “What’s so bad about helping Dylan find the true meaning of his life?”
Sweat bloomed over Carina’s forehead. Rebecca’s arm was hanging heavy over her shoulder, almost like the grip of a vise, dragging her down.
“Nothing, except I want Dylan to be happy,” Carina stammered, grasping for courage. “I’ve seen him with the homeless. He really cares about them. He’s also a talented musician.”
Rebecca turned Carina toward the large window. “You have feelings for him, too. Good. Use them to your advantage. It’ll make everything more convincing.”
“I don’t know if I can convince him.” Nor do I want to, because I think I’m falling for him. Someone, help me.
“Use sex. Have you been teasing him like I suggested? Driving him crazy with lust, or have you already given in and slept with him?” Rebecca’s breath hissed over Carina’s ear. “I told you to withhold.”
“I haven’t slept with him.”
“Good.” Rebecca pointed at the billion dollar view extending from her window. “Someday Dylan will thank you for steering him the right way. His talent and business acumen are immense. He’ll be his father’s protégé, eventually inherit Jewell Capital—put food on a million tables by creating wealth in the form of new businesses. He could do so much more than feed a few street people and play guitar in a coffee shop.”
“Sure, but it has to be what he wants.” Carina wanted to keep her job, but only if Dylan voluntarily signed with his father, not because she manipulated him into it.
Rebecca snickered. “It’s your job to get him to want what’s right for him. If you care about him, you’d want to help, wouldn’t you?”
A pigeon zigzagged in front of the window and smacked into it. Carina gasped. Above them, a hawk flapped once, then dived after his fallen prey.
Rebecca raised a single eyebrow and smirked. “Which would you rather be?”
~ ~ ~
Dylan tossed the hippie heart across the room. Carina wasn’t any different from his father, putting work ahead of relationships. Why did she have to jump every time her boss called? For crying out loud, she’d already spent most of the day at work and now she was looking at pulling an all-nighter because some dickwad wanted to review pitch books on Sunday.
His phone jingled, indicating unread text messages. They were from Owen, his lawyer.
The first one: Pretty Kitty is a new media entertainment company. Concerts, gaming conventions, online dating and adult entertainment.
Second one: Might have a lead. Mogul bank financed them. Will dig deeper.
Dylan texted: Good progress. Find out more.
Mogul Bank, huh? Carina worked there. Maybe the deal she was pitching had to do with Pretty Kitty. The problem would be to ask her. She was bound by a confidentiality agreement not to divulge information to outsiders.
His phone rang a few minutes later. It was Kayla.
“Dyl, you won’t believe what I found out. Can I come up?”
“Sure, since when did you have to ask?” Dylan stepped onto his balcony. The sun was fading across the bay, reddish streaks over a luminescent orange glow silhouetted by the faint outline of the Golden Gate.
“I see you.” Kayla waved from the sidewalk. “Are you alone or is she with you?”
“She who?” Dylan spotted his sister disappearing behind the lobby door.
“The Asian girl you used to room with.”
“She’s not here. See you in a bit.” Dylan turned back to the living room and hung up. He needed coffee. His sister sounded like she was on a witch hunt or passing another message for dear old Dad who played godfather by letting his minions do his dirty work.
Dylan cranked up the espresso machine to warm it up. The doorbell rang.
Kayla barged in when he opened the door.
“Here, look at this.” She shoved her phone at him. It was a picture of Carina posing with the banker on the yacht. “Do you know who he is?”
The espresso machine chimed, indicating it had reached the correct temperature. Dylan pressed the ground coffee into the portafilter. “I really don’t care. Why do you get off on gossip?”
“I’m looking out for you. You’ve just pissed off the son of Max Swindle.”
“What the eff are you talking about?”
“Max Swindle, shipping magnate? Dad’s golf buddy?”
“So? What does it have to do with me?” Dylan shoved the puck into the machine and pressed a button to extract the coffee.
“Max mentioned it to Dad this morning over golf. I thought I’d warn you, Dad wasn’t happy. He said you should know your place. If you’re there in the band, you don’t pick up a client’s woman.” Kayla’s cheeks exhibited two pink spots, as if Dylan’s behavior had personally offended her.
“Carina doesn’t belong to anyone.” He watched the dark, rich, tightly compacted crema fluff on top of the espresso, leaving a lighter swiggle in the middle. Perfect.
“You’d have a better chance with her if you were one of the fat cats, second in line at Dad’s firm. Besides, I heard Max’s son wants to get back at you for shoving your tongue down his date’s throat, and Max could pull a deal from Dad to show his displeasure.”
Dylan didn’t give a crap about Max Swindle or his son. The only problem was Carina was still working at Mogul, and Max could threaten her job by blackballing Mogul, or even worse, Rob, being her boss, could make life miserable for her. Perhaps that was why he called her back to work again. But this wasn’t Kayla’s business. Time to change the subject.
“Kayla, Kayla, Kayla, my sweet sister. Have a cup of coffee.” Dylan set the demitasse of espresso in front of her. “Now, tell me about your love life since you’re meddling in mine.”
Kayla palmed the cup, her face brightening. She inhaled the heavenly aroma and licked the crema. “Mmm … I met someone last night. He’s really sweet.”
“Sweet?” Dylan prepared another puck of coffee. “I didn’t know you went for that. I thought arrogant douchebags were more your style.”
“Stop it.” She swatted him. “I was playing with his name, James Sweet. Stanford guy. Bumped into him at the Embarcadero last night after the fireworks. A real class act.”
“Humpf. What does he do?”
“Ha, caught you. I thought you were too idealistic to care what a man did. What if I told you he was a homeless bum?”
Dylan frothed milk into a pitcher and poured her a flower. “Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you moving in with him. Seriously, you only met him last night and your eyes are big and starry. What’s up?”
She sipped the cappuccino and smiled. “We stayed up all night and talked.”
“Talked, huh?” Dylan made air quotes.
“Yes, talked.” She set the cup on the table firmly. “Isn’t that what you do when you first meet someone? He told me all about his childhood, what he wants out of life, and what he hopes to accomplish.”
Dylan extracted the second cup and mixed in a shot of Jack Daniels. Exactly his problem. He didn’t know a damn thing about Carina and what she truly wanted other than convincing him she’d made the right career choice to become a banker.
~ ~ ~
Carina yawned and settled into the window seat on the eastbound BART train. It was late, the last train before midnight, and the section was half empty, mostly commuters—students, nurses, and the usual bedraggled business people with wrinkled suits and woode
n expressions.
She pulled out her phone and texted Dylan: Just got on the BART. Too early to expense a cab.
A few minutes later he replied: Ha, only you’d think midnight’s early. Be safe, babe.
Carina: Will do.
Dylan: Don’t let the bedbugs bite.
Carina: Sure, talk to you in the morning.
A large figure loomed in the aisle. “Carina, mind if I sit here?”
It was Rob, her former boss. She glanced past him. There were plenty of empty seats, but he’d already placed his briefcase on the floor and moved next to her. “How’s everything going?”
“Not too bad, and you?” She kept her gaze firmly on the head of the woman in front of her.
Rob stretched and encroached into her space, his hip pressed against hers. “Couldn’t be better. You headed back to Orinda?”
Why the small talk? Carina gritted her teeth. “Yes, been working hard.”
“Still on the C&T deal?”
“You know I can’t talk about it.” She wished she had hidden herself behind a large newspaper, but these days, no one read the papers. Staring at her phone, she hoped Rob would get the message to leave her alone.
“Heard you’re working directly for Rebecca. How’s she treating you?”
“Okay.” Carina scrolled through her message history with Dylan.
Rob shifted in his seat. “Still seeing that guitar player?”
“Yes.” What the hell was his problem? Carina typed on the virtual keyboard.
“How does it feel being Rebecca’s bitch?”
What the eff? Carina turned her shoulder away from him and leaned her forehead over the darkened window.
He nudged her. “It’s not going to end well. She has no intention of giving you a return offer.”
“Why not?” The hairs rose on the back of Carina’s scalp. “You know I’m as good as any of the other interns.”
“That’s not the point. She’s a backstabbing bitch. My dad’s friends with her fiancé and let me tell you, she’s only after him for his money.”
Ewee. Carina backed away from the little drops of spittle spewing from Rob’s mouth. “It’s not my business.”
Whole Latte Love (The Jewells) Page 21