“Motives can change,” I grind out and she blinks at me like she's surprised to hear that. I sigh and scrub my hand through my hair. The night is cloudy with fog, but there's still a twinkling of stars up above. It'd be the perfect night to show Olivia the rooftop deck. If I could her into the damn house. “At least come in and talk with me. Have a cup of coffee.” She just stares back at me, refusing to give any emotion. What kind of woman is this? In fact, her silence and refusal to discuss the matter makes me feel like I'm the woman. It's pissing me off. And exciting me. My usual pattern with Olivia Ashcraft apparently. “I happen to have a princess cake in my refrigerator from Victoria Pastry Company.”
This strikes a nerve.
“You just happen to have a princess cake in your fridge? After I believe I let slip during poker night that my most favorite fucking dessert in the whole entire world is princess cake? And from one of the best local bakeries San Francisco has to offer? This is all a coincidence?”
I feel my anger ripped clean away from me as I climb out the door with a smirk on my face, one that I try to hide from Olivia. I close the door behind me and move up the steps towards my house, unlocking the leaded glass door and stepping back.
Olivia isn't there.
I hear an engine start and glance back down at the street with a frustration, almost a depression taking hold of me. I glance back, but find that it's not Olivia leaving, just a neighbor of mine. The woman in question is actually picking herself up off the concrete, cursing the cracks in the sidewalk as she recovers from another of her epic falls. When she brushes past me and into my house, she glares.
The lights are all off, but it's warm inside, laying a comforting sense of home over my shoulders as I lock the front doors and follow Olivia into the kitchen, turning on lights as I go. She sets her purse down and immediately moves over to my refrigerator, opening the doors and withdrawing the promised cake. Olivia sets it on the counter, still glaring at me, and opens up the box, staring down at the small, round cake with a twitching mouth.
“You also promised me coffee?”
I let a smile take hold of my lips and lift up a cabinet door, sliding it along the metal track and revealing a hidden coffeemaker.
“I assume French roast is okay with you?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at the green cake with the pink rose and Olivia's suspicious glare. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“You really were listening during that freaking poker game, weren't you?” I shrug, but the truth is, I was. I heard everything Olivia had to say and, miraculously, managed to remember a substantial portion of it. The coffee, I already had, and the cake, I made sure to pick up yesterday, just in case she showed up. It was a weird gesture for me, one that I'm still figuring out.
“I was,” I tell her, getting out two white coffee mugs and setting them down on the kitchen island. Olivia and I stare at each other again before she turns away and searches the kitchen until she finds my knife collection, selecting one for the cake and setting it on the marble countertop.
“Why?” she asks which is a perfectly legitimate question. The real answer to that is, I don't know. I start the coffee and turn around to look at Olivia, standing in my kitchen looking uncomfortable, to say the least. That's not what I want here. I've been making people uncomfortable my entire life.
“I don't know,” I admit freely, holding up my hands and letting them fall to my sides. I feel like a different man in the jeans and T-shirt – it's not an outfit I would ever choose nor do I often get a chance to wear anything like this. But I think I like the man that it makes. He's different than the boss with his bright ties and dark suited perfection. I feel like I can think more clearly this way. Whether that's true or not is yet to be seen, but the illusion is there.
“Lex, let's just cut to the chase, okay? I'm an intelligent person and so are you. Why are we standing here with a princess cake and a freshly brewed pot of coffee? What's the end game?” She lifts up a hand before I can speak. “I'm a big girl, and I'm independent. I'm not looking for a man to come in and sweep me off my feet. A relationship was not something I was in the market far.”
As usual, Olivia goes straight for the throat.
“But what if it was something you found?” I ask, leaning back against the counter and crossing my boots at the ankles. Olivia follows the motion with her gaze and then flicks her green eyes back up to mine.
“Is that really what you want, Lex?”
“You yourself seemed quite confident that it was today,” I remind her and she sighs, looking up at the ceiling in a gesture that reminds me of her mother, the blonde one, Carol. The coffeemaker beeps at me, and I tear my gaze away from Olivia to grab the pot. “Besides,” I begin as I turn around and pour two generous cups, all without spilling a single drop, “you said it yourself, you're an adult. So what if this is just a fling? We can't enjoy one another's company for awhile?”
“I have no problem with a fling, Lex, but I feel this is becoming something else. It's making me nervous, especially on your end.” I grit my teeth. I haven't the slightest idea what I've done to make her think that, but who cares? She's obviously gotten it into her head that I'm some brat looking for a little wife to bring home to the family. That's hardly the case.
“So you're saying, that even if I were interested in dating you – which I am most certainly not – that you don't know how to date? That you're incapable of it?” I growl this out and snatch a sugar bowl, shoving it roughly across the surface of the countertop.
Olivia ignores it and throws a scowl my way, one that I'm not prepared for. The intensity between us heats up quickly, doesn't it? She tugs down her blue T-shirt, runs her fingers through her hair and sniffs at me.
“I am so capable of dating that it would make your head spin, Lex.” She nods her chin at the cabinet behind me. “Now, how about some whiskey for my coffee? I have a feeling that if I spend another second with you, I'm going to need it.”
I get the alcohol out and add a generous helping to my mug before it passing it over to her, taking the cup in both hands and leaning back against the gray cabinets behind me. I saw the way Olivia assessed my body in this outfit. She finds it irresistible.
She takes the whiskey bottle in her hand, but doesn't remove her eyes from my face.
“Maybe you're so stuck on not dating, on being independent, that you've become afraid of actually giving it a try?”
“Says the man with the – how did you phrase it – the hordes of 'soppy kitty cats' passing through your doors? I think you're so good at using women and tossing them aside when you're done that you couldn't date somebody if your life depended on it.”
“Straight from the horse's mouth,” I snarl back at her, taking a massive swig of coffee. It burns going down, but I refuse to let her see that. Olivia mimics my gesture and then grabs the sharp knife in her other hand, stabbing it into the princess cake with a ferocity that makes my blood heat and my cock thicken.
“What's dating anyway? Fucking somebody exclusively?” She pauses and a small smile quirks her gorgeous mouth. It's round and pink, soft, free of makeup. I want to press my mouth against it, lay Olivia down in my bed and fuck her until she falls asleep with her head on my chest. My fingers twitch at my sides. “Unless you're part of Craig and Co. Anyway, exclusive sex, dates, hang out sessions. That's it, right? What's the point? To see if you want to commit to each other? Share long, silent looks like the moms do.” Olivia freezes, her eyes locked on mine. I stare back at her.
Long, silent looks she says.
“Looks that communicate without words,” she grinds out, grabbing a handful of her hair with a groan and sinking to the hardwood floor with her cup of coffee and a chunk of cake stuck on the end of the knife. “No!” She takes another swig of her coffee and lifts the knife to her mouth, nibbling a bit of cake with a fairly obvious change to her expression. It must, indeed, be good princess. I stare at Olivia, sitting in the middle of my kitchen floor, like nobody else I've ever soon, s
o uncouth, so strange, so incredibly sexy.
I decide that although Lex in the designer suit might not sit on his floor, Lex in the feminist T-shirt would. I sink down next to her and she gives me another look, holding out the knife for my inspection.
“Take a piece of cake.” She gestures at me with the blade. “Trust me, you're gonna need it.” I force myself out of my comfort zone for the umpteenth time that day and pick a piece off with my fingers, staring down at it for a moment before putting it between my lips. Olivia watches me as I taste the cake, getting hint of custard and raspberry jam in my miniscule bite.
I stretch my legs out and lean back on one arm, using the other to lift my coffee to my mouth.
“We're dating, aren't we?” Olivia asks quietly, and I nod. Somehow this snuck up on both of us. We take quiet sips of our coffee. Hmm. “This would be like, our third date or something then?”
“Fourth if you count our initial dinner at Frances, poker night at your place, you staying the night here on Monday, and now.” I smile at her and she frowns back at me. “Plus all of our wonderful witty repartee in between.” Olivia snorts.
“I can't believe this is happening. Apparently I'm the only one though. Maxi, the moms, Craig.” She sighs. “Everyone else thinks we're into each other.”
“Aren't we?” I ask and her gaze flies up to meet mine. We share another of those long, silent looks as I set my coffee aside and crawl towards her on the hardwood floor. Olivia's brows raise as I reach up my right hand and brush her hair back. Things are getting interesting now. Thirty-four years old and I've never met a woman like this, not even close. Arrogant, cocky, confident, self-assured. I like Olivia Ashcraft. The thought had never occurred to me until now. I assumed getting her to sign a contract was the only way to facilitate any sort of relationship between us. This'll work so much better.
“What about Lara Caliper?” Olivia asks and my mouth turns down into a frown. Lara's offer makes sense in so many ways but one. I don't want her. It'll be interesting to see my father and grandfather's reaction to that news. “Maxi said your family's been courting hers for years.”
I purse my lips and sit down next to Olivia.
“My family but not me,” I tell her, liking the Lex Lyndon that wears jeans and leather boots. He's much less uptight than his counterpart. Willing to sit here and talk about whatever with Miss Olivia Ashcraft. “After she found out about the contract, she offered to essentially fulfill the role I was asking of you.” I glance over and see that Olivia's mouth has tightened, almost imperceptibly but enough that I take notice of it. “Only instead of the money, she wanted to marry me.” I look down at our legs, just inches apart and close my eyes, letting the heat of Olivia's body overwhelm me. “It makes good business sense.”
“I see,” Olivia says, but her voice is neutral. I can't read a thing from it.
“She's thirty-seven and I'm thirty-four. We could get married, merge companies, have children.” I hear Olivia's clothing rustle and open my eyes, watching as she rises to her feet and sets the knife and her coffee cup down on the counter. I love that she's wearing heels with her jeans – black, suede pumps that beg me to run my fingers over them, drop my tongue down and trace the line of the shoe.
“But you're not into that?” Olivia asks carefully, turning around and watching as I unfold myself from the kitchen floor. I will get her up to the rooftop garden if it kills me.
“I highly doubt she could rile me up the way you do,” I say as Olivia moves towards me, slides her fingers under the bottom of my T-shirt. “You're so … infuriating.” She purses her lips and grabs the hem of the shirt, lifting it up and helping me pull it off completely. The black fabric gets tossed onto the floor near our feet.
“And you're an asshole who happens to have a nice body. So what?”
“I'll call Lara Caliper in the morning and tell her no, in no uncertain terms, if that's what you want.” Olivia sighs and leans her head against my chest. The feeling of her silken hair brushing across my pecs is enough to make me seriously question my own sanity. I could lay here all day and let her play with her hair across my skin. It feels that good.
“I don't know what I want, Lex,” she says with a sigh. I reach down and tilt her head back, giving her a look that says I highly doubt the validity of that fact. I raise an eyebrow.
“You? Olivia Olsen Ashcraft? You don't know what you want? I find that hard to believe.” She groans and turns away from me, snatching her coffee mug up and draining the last few drops.
“Okay, okay, okay, I do know that I don't like that Lara bitch. The way she looked at me that day in your office, I knew right away that she was bad news. Besides,” Olivia glances over her shoulder at me, “she fired me for good. So fuck her. Yeah. Yeah, go ahead and call her and tell her off.”
“Are you jealous?” I ask as Olivia turns back to look at me again, eyes drifting down to my naked chest for just a moment. She gets in a good, long look at my muscles before meeting my gaze.
“Maybe.”
I smile and hold out my hand.
“Come with me.”
Olivia lets me guide her towards the stairs that lead up to the roof, pausing to duck into the bathroom for a moment. When she comes out, she doesn't look very happy.
“What the hell is this?” she asks, holding out a small piece of fabric. It takes me some time to identify it. Fuck. “Why are my panties ten times crunchier than they were when I left them here? And why do they have white stains on them, Lex?” I wrinkle my nose at Olivia and give her my best scowl. The answers to her questions are exactly as she thinks they might be. I masturbated with them, yes, and I touched them to my cock and I even used them to catch. So what?
“I could buy you an entire lingerie store full of panties.”
Olivia's mouth hangs open in shock.
“You're not even going to deny it?” she asks, her voice thin with disbelief. I cross my arms over my chest and stare Olivia down. She stares right back at me, and then she takes the wad of cotton and throws it right at my face. It hits me in the nose, bounces off and comes to land in a decorative bowl filled with sand dollars.
“You're the one that left them here,” I argue back with a shrug, moving past Olivia and disappearing into one of the guest bedrooms to grab some blankets and a pair of hooded Lyndon Realty Trust sweatshirts that were given out at our last corporate barbeque. I toss one to Olivia and sweep past her, unlocking the door to the rooftop staircase and pulling it open with a flourish. She yanks the sweater over her hood and narrows her eyes at me as she passes by.
“You disgust me,” she hisses out before hitting the stairs and disappearing into the darkness. I wait until I hear the door at the top open and feel a cool rush of air from outside. “Lex?” Olivia calls before I flick a switch and follow after her, waiting for a gasp or an exclamation, anything as she takes in the white lights and the flowers, the view of the city with its lights sparkling like diamonds. Instead, I hit the top step and move out after her, tossing the blankets onto a chair and finding Olivia glaring at me.
“Really? A rooftop garden lit up with strands of white lights? Do you bring all the girls up here? And is that before or after you ruin a perfectly good pair of panties with the sperms?”
“The sperms?” I ask, but Olivia just bursts out laughing, running the fingers of both hands through her hair as she makes her way to the edge of the room, picking her way between cedar garden beds that I absolutely cannot take credit for tending. Mavis, the cleaning lady, takes care of this, too. “Not the word I'd choose to use.”
“Then what?” Olivia asks, glancing back at me, red hair blowing gently around her face. The white lights highlight her cheekbones, the rounded curvature of her lips, her long lashes. I toss the blankets onto a nearby chair and pull the sweater over my hood. It feels … odd. Not something I'd normally wear. Paired with the jeans, the boots, my naked chest. The whole evening feels surreal and disjointed from my life – but in a good way. “What choice of word
s would you use to describe the heinous crime committed against those poor panties.” She points her finger in a random direction and then leans back, too close to the edge for my comfort.
“I don't know,” I drawl out, taking the first of the blankets and laying it across the outdoor daybed with its orange cushions and brightly colored pillows. “Considering you're the one that lets me shoot it inside of you, I guess I'll let you make the final decision.” I smile wickedly at her, trying to draw her away from the edge. It works. Olivia saunters over to me in her high heels and crosses her arms over the sweatshirt, watching as I make up a warm area for us to sit. It really is cold up here tonight.
“Feeling awfully full of yourself, aren't you?” Olivia asks as I sit down on the daybed and lean back, watching to see if she'll join me or if I'll end up looking like a complete idiot for trying to woo her onto the rooftop. “For a fourth date, this is getting pretty thick, Lex.”
“And why's that? Because you've just realized how much you like me? Or because you're already scheming up a way to get more of the sperms as you lovingly phrased it?” She rolls her eyes at me and plops down on the cushion next to mine, grabbing the extra blanket and tugging it over her legs, hugging it against her chest as her eyes scan the wooden planter boxes, the stone flower pots, the small gazebo that perches like a gargoyle in the darkness. For whatever reason, the lights wound through it aren't working.
“I'm still not going to forget the loss of those panties,” she tells me, and I feel a smirk twisting my lips.
“They can be washed,” I respond, hating the empty space between us and the cold draft that's cutting straight through my jeans. I tap my fingers against my jeans as I try to figure out what exactly it is that I should say to get her to scoot closer. I could reach out, wrap my arm around her and jerk her against me, but that wouldn't do me any good, not with Olivia Ashcraft. My mouth twitches. “Besides, what else was I supposed to do when you spent all week avoiding me?” Olivia doesn't answer, just stares out at the glittering sea of lights and sniffles against the cold. “Since you so begrudgingly admitted that we're dating, are you still going to ignore me at the office?”
Taming Her Boss Page 24