Blurring the Lines (Men of the Zodiac)

by Marisa Cleveland

  He cocked his head and grinned at her, rubbing a hand over the top of his head and leaving it disheveled. She stifled a sigh. The man had a killer smile and when he blinked at her with those honey-colored eyes, her brain stalled and she forgot she wasn’t supposed to want him.

  “You already have a foster, and I’m guessing it’ll be better if this one isn’t stressed by another dog.” His smile dimmed as his gaze flitted over her, like he just noticed what she was wearing. Heat flushed her chest when he seemed to focus on her cleavage. “Were you on a date?”

  It shouldn’t matter that he sounded jealous, but something in his tone gave her hope that maybe he wasn’t as immune to her as he let on. “Um, no. Would that have mattered?”

  He took a long breath. “If you were on a date?”

  She tugged up the tee shirt, but the fabric fell back in place, displaying more cleavage than she normally showed at the office. “Yeah. Would you have still called me?”

  He shook his head. “If I’d have known you were on a date, I probably wouldn’t have bothered you.”

  She leaned into him and caught the fresh scent of mint. “Probably or wouldn’t have?”

  “Probably wouldn’t have.”

  She frowned at him. “That’s not an answer.”

  He smiled that killer smile that floored her every damn time.

  The doors opened and the veterinarian stepped into the waiting room. “Mr. Whitman? We’ve repaired the break and sewn up the gash on his neck but would like to keep him here for observation. If you’d like to stop by in the morning, we can update you on his progress.”

  After answering a few more questions, the vet shook their hands and re-entered the medical area.

  Kira turned to Blake. “This was really great, what you did.”

  He smiled at her with admiration. “You would’ve done the same thing. Thanks for waiting with me. I’m sorry if I interrupted your evening.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing more important than this. You said you were at the hospital.”

  They stood facing each other, and up close, even in her heels, she had to lean back to focus on his face. Seeing this softer side of Blake sent her slightly off balance, and she didn’t dislike the feeling at all.

  “Yes. Visiting a friend.”

  A male or a female? Curiosity clawed at her, but she clamped down her question. “I was at the movies for girls’ night.” She watched his expression but couldn’t guess his reaction.

  “So, not on a date.”

  “Not on a date.” For some reason, she kept thinking of ways to drag out the conversation, and when she realized that was what her brain was doing, she pasted a smile on her face. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  She backed out of the clinic and stood on the sidewalk. Really, she needed to go, but she kept saying things, prolonging their interaction. The smart thing to do would be to leave before she said or did something stupid. “I’ll pick up coffee on the way in. Do you think you’ll need a triple espresso, or will a regular pour be sufficient?”

  His smile widened as he scanned the parking lot, empty but for one SUV. “How did you get here. Do you need a ride home?”

  “I can get a cab.”

  “I insist.”

  She was being ridiculous. A ride was just a ride, not an offer to pleasure her senseless with his curved lips. Her bubble burst with a sharp stab of reality. But damn he looked good, even rumpled.

  Kira had to force herself to not invite him inside when his car came to a stop in front of her place. As she closed the gate to her apartment complex and turned to wave, she wondered if she’d made the right choice.

  Kira had just placed three thick file folders and a large black coffee on Blake’s desk when she heard his luscious baritone outside his office. She spun around and tried to look casual as he entered, his phone in his hand, the Bluetooth in his ear. As soon as he saw her, his face brightened with that captivating smile, and she forgot for a split second—again—that he was her boss.

  She mouthed, “Coffee.”

  He stepped over to claim it, and even after he lifted the lid and sipped, she could smell him—warm and sexy—over the aroma of freshly poured French roast. He spoke to the caller and motioned for Kira to hand him a pad and pen.

  “Yes, that’s not a problem. I’ll have my accountant wire the funds to you this morning.”

  He tapped his earpiece and tossed it on the desk. “I needed this more than you could possibly know.” He sipped and smiled, but his grin dimmed as his gaze lingered on her chest. She’d purposely worn a sundress with a V-neck, and based on the way he licked his lips, he noticed.

  She cleared her throat. “You’re welcome.”

  He picked up a folder and opened to the first sticky note she’d tabbed in the margin. After scanning what she’d written, he flipped to the next one, a faint smile curving his mouth. She wondered if she’d gone too far by giving him a running commentary on her assessment of the contracts, but the phones had been eerily silent since she arrived that morning, and she’d decided to read something.

  Contradicting her earlier thought, his office line rang. He punched the button and put the caller on speaker. “Brett?”

  “It’s barely eight on a Monday. Have a little respect for those of us with kids.”

  Blake’s warm laugh filled the office, and she swallowed. The man was lethal, combining his laugh and smile like that. “Brett is my personal accountant.” He opened his center drawer and passed her a one-page summary of his investments and charitable contribution deductions.

  She scanned the page and leaned forward toward the phone.

  “Hello, Kira. Don’t let your boss overwork you, too, okay?”

  She caught his eye and giggled. “He’s already trying to. I think I clocked fifty hours last week.”

  The accountant made tsk-ing noises. “Just fifty?”

  Blake shook his head, but the grin caught her in the gut every damn time. “Let’s go ahead and list my current obligations.”

  Brett rattled off the ones she already knew about, but as he drilled down to the local organizations she wasn’t familiar with, she sank back into the chair. Blake contributed anonymously to no less than a dozen organizations.

  When the accountant ended his summary, she scooted her seat forward. “Sounds like you’ve diversified in all the underprivileged areas.” Her gaze caught Blake’s, and she noticed the dull flush on his neck. The man really was humble. But she couldn’t waste this opportunity to further her own charitable interests. “I’d like to fund my portion of his donations from the interest earned on his vice stocks.”

  Her boss’s slack jaw showed she’d caught him off guard.

  Through the phone, the accountant chuckled. “Nicely done, and that total would be”—she heard the clicking of keys—”twenty-six percent of his total in gift contributions.”

  Blake’s eyebrow rose. “That’s six percent more than we agreed to.” His mouth pursed, then he threw up his hands in defeat and her heart leapt. “Fine.”

  The more time she spent with the man, the deeper under his spell she fell, but his company had to make money to support his charities; there was no guarantee—short of her contract—that he wouldn’t buy the Bromwell and the surrounding buildings for development and use the profits to fund his other interests.

  After he hung up, she glanced at her notes. “You volunteer at the veteran’s hospital?”

  He shrugged. “Once a month.”

  “And you’re going to pay for the dog’s medical bills?”

  “Brutus. Yes. Until they can find the owner, I’ll take care of him.” He leaned forward. “Which reminds me. I need to pick up some stuff if I’m going to have a larger dog here. Can you help me?”

  “Of course.”

  He stood and walked by her to the far corner of the room. “I’m thinking we need a small gate to block this section for the dogs. We can see how they get along together, but th
is way they won’t have to be crated.” He bent over and slid the coffee table and two armchairs to the side.

  She had no words. Just pure lustful appreciation for the way his slacks tightened across his ass. It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t. That the one man to awaken such office fantasies while tugging at her heartstrings was the one man she couldn’t have.

  “Kira?”

  She jerked out of her appreciative trance and blinked up at him. “Yes?”

  “What do you think?”

  I think you’re gorgeous. I think I’d like to wrap my arms around you. She’d like to push him back into the chair and straddle him, nuzzle the side of his face and see if the intoxicating scent was from his aftershave. “I think you’re being extraordinarily generous.”

  A flush crept up his neck. “No big deal.”

  She’d never met anyone like her boss. For him, it might be nothing, but for her…what seemed insignificant to Blake meant the world to Kira.

  “It’s not working,” Kira groaned, stepping out of her stilettos and dropping her purse to the floor. She’d survived another week, and while most people loved Fridays, to the contrary, leaving the office—leaving Blake—saddened her.

  Her roommate made a beeline for the kitchen, returning with two spoons and an open carton of cookies and cream ice cream. “What’s not working?”

  She tried to hide her frown. “Picturing my boss as a circus clown.” Anything to remind her he was off limits. Despite the interest she was certain he had for her, he meant what he said about not mixing business with pleasure.

  Against workplace dating.

  Tish jabbed her utensil in Kira’s direction. “Why on earth would you picture Blake as a clown? Picture him naked if you have to imagine him at all.”

  She had. Oh, had she ever perfected undressing that man with her eyes. “It’s the damn dog.”

  “I thought you liked Brutus.”

  She did. She loved Brutus. Unfortunately, she also found herself admiring his rescuer. Saint Blake.

  How on earth was she going to survive a year with a hopeless crush on her boss? She groaned. Working for him had sounded like a decent plan when he’d first thrown the idea at her. Why hadn’t she asked for more time to make a rational decision? Why had she let emotions get in the way? Save her mom’s building, bulk up her bank account, and oh yeah, don’t sleep with him.

  She had eyeballs. Blake Whitman was super hot, mega rich, and could get any girl he wanted. So why did he suddenly seem like the only guy she wanted to date?

  “I do like Brutus. I don’t want to like Blake.” She admitted her fear. “But that doesn’t stop me from creating these elaborate office fantasies.”

  The corny, over-the-top kind where he would be reviewing a report and she’d saunter in, close the door, and hop onto his desk…

  “You need sex. But not with him.”

  She swiped the carton away from Tish and slapped a giant gob of ice cream into her mouth. Too bad her hot boss was the one guy she wanted to have sex with. “You’re probably right.”

  Tish repossessed the cookies and cream. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”

  She shrugged. It had been a bunch of months—maybe half a year?—since she’d last gone out with anyone. Her previous boyfriend had been an avid runner, and they’d met while planning a 5K fundraiser. Great stamina. Too bad he’d also been keen on meeting her dad for career opportunities. “Too long, apparently.”

  Her friend waved her spoon between the two of them. “We’re young. We should be out having fun.”

  “It might have been easier if we’d just met at a bar. Then maybe we could’ve hooked up.”

  “Are you talking about Blake again?”

  Tish tossed the spoon in the sink and closed the lid. “No more. But a bar is a great idea!”

  “What?” She glanced down at her wrinkled blouse and bare feet.

  “It’s Friday night. Let’s go out.”

  “To a bar?” Where she’d have to stuff her toes back into pointy heels for the sake of fashion. She scoffed at her dumb brain. Actually, since she’d started working at the office, she’d neglected her own personal party time, and that bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Damn job already had her acting like she was a fuddy duddy.

  “Not just any bar. We’re going to Tommy Bahamas.”

  Tish shoved the carton back in the freezer, took the spoon from Kira’s hand, and pushed her toward her bedroom. Tommy’s did sound fun, and she could count on the bartender to give her a full pour. She recalled seeing Tommy’s on Blake’s calendar for an early dinner, so even though he might already be gone by the time she got there, excitement mingled with anxiety at potentially running into him.

  What exactly should she wear to a casual bar on a Friday night in hopes of possibly running into her boss she didn’t want to want to date?

  Chapter Eight

  Blake stopped listening to Keith as soon as the glass shattered by the bar area. His gaze zeroed in on the back of a pair of long and lean legs leading to a sexy ass, narrow waist, and cascade of dark wavy hair. She balanced on insanely high heels and giggled as she danced back away from the fallen drink. The bartender flushed and sputtered an apology, but Blake barely registered anything but the way his body tightened with desire.

  He looked at his brother and saw an amused smirk in place. With more bark than intended, he snapped, “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.” What the hell had they been discussing? Something about Keith’s latest personal property investment. He liked to keep on the pulse of the market.

  “I’m impressed.”

  “About what? The way I closed the med center deal or wrangled the changes in the mall contract?” Although the way his brother’s gaze never left Kira, perused her a little too slowly, he knew exactly what the man was talking about. And didn’t like it one bit.

  Keith shot him an uncharacteristic grin. “Your secretary. She’s managed to impress me.”

  He conjured the image of Kira waving goodbye to him earlier that evening and telling him she hoped he had a nice weekend. “Her intelligence impresses me, too,” he said as a reminder to both of them that her competence was what they needed to focus on—and not her other…assets. He whipped his head back to observe the brunette with the long legs. That giggle. So unique as it danced through the autumn air, into their booth. And into his brain. So much for ignoring her other enchantments.

  “And I’m pretty sure she’s sitting at the bar with Tish.”

  “So she is.” He had to work to keep his response nonchalant. Funny how he could recognize her from across a crowded restaurant. He glanced at his watch. He needed to get out of there before he approached Kira and— “It’s late. I have to get back to the office.”

  Keith choked on his whiskey. “It’s eight. Besides, I think Tish just spotted me. It would be rude to leave without saying hi.” He slid some bills in the bill plate, and the two men approached the bar. Blake listened again for her signature laugh. Even with her hair down and her back to him, his body still reacted. How did she draw him in without even trying?

  Tish’s eyes widened. “What are you two doing here?”

  Blake laughed at her surprise. “Getting a drink, like you, I suppose.” He glanced past her to Kira. “Ladies.”

  His brother sidled up to her side of the bar. “Hey.”

  Tish picked up her martini glass and slid off the stool. “I see another friend of mine. Keith, want to meet a model?” Then, with her glass raised above the crowd, they snaked their way to the opposite side of the U-shaped bar.

  Kira wiggled into the abandoned seat and crossed her legs, her skirt hitching to mid-thigh. “What kind of drink?”

  “Excuse me?” It was difficult to remember he didn’t mix business with pleasure when she crossed her legs like that. If he touched her skin, would it be as soft and smooth as he imagined?

  Her big brown eyes blinked at him with innocent inqui
ry. “You said you were here for a drink, which makes sense, since it’s a bar, but what do you drink? Anything fun?”

  She said fun like she was challenging him, and he agreed. “I suppose Scotch wouldn’t be considered fun.”

  She shot the bartender a disgusted look. Dramatically rolled her eyes and refocused on him. “Oh, ugh. Borrrrinnnggg.”

  He snorted, hating how much he enjoyed her teasing. He guessed he deserved it, so instead of acting all offended, he laughed and countered, “There’s nothing wrong with traditional.”

  She gripped his arm—his bicep—and electric shocks coursed over his shoulder and tightened in his cheek. “Scotch is like for eighty-year-old men. Not some thirty-year-old CEO.”

  Stepping closer, inhaling her tropical scent, he lowered his voice, “How do you know how old I am?”

  She leaned forward, treating him to a magnificent view of her pink lace bra just beneath the deep V of her top. “Hello Google? Really, I asked Tish.”

  He straightened. “Funny.”

  She lifted her glass to her lips. “What is?”

  He shouldn’t admit it. He should keep his mouth shut. But he wanted to see her reaction, and he hoped it would open up the conversation for further discussion. “I thought about doing the same thing.”

  She curved her lips upward in an enticing smirk. “You thought about asking Tish how old you were?”

  He laughed. Witty and gorgeous. “About you.” Too much more time with her and he’d be tempted to take her home. Hell, he was already tempted. Had been tempted since the first day, really. Something in the way she’d reprimanded him over three espresso shots stuck in his mind and wouldn’t let go.

  She took a long sip of her sticky sweet Mai Tai and gave him a closed-mouth smile. The deep V of her top drew his attention to her breasts, and he nearly groaned when he noticed the outline of her hardened nipples through the fabric. But it wasn’t a crime to admire a beautiful woman. Just one who happened to work for him.

  He shouldn’t have come over here. Not at the end of a long week with Kira occupying so many of his thoughts. “So, would you like to tell me your age?”