by Tiffany Snow
“What the hell are you doing?” I was pissed off. This was the second night in a row he’d done this—come on to me with apparently no other intent than to embarrass and humiliate me. “You can’t do this, you know. I work for you. This is sexual harassment.”
“Is that how you view it? Am I harassing you?”
I hesitated. Lying wasn’t in my nature and no, I didn’t view it as harassment. “I just don’t understand what you’re doing, or what you want from me.” Plain speaking. Always preferable, in my opinion.
Jackson turned away, shoving his fingers again through his hair, which was sexy as hell. It made his normally perfect hair all mussed, making his edges turn harder and the professional businessman disappear.
He didn’t answer right away, instead he picked up the wine bottle and poured the rest into my empty glass, then took a long drink. I waited, arms crossed over my chest. He was going to answer me if I had to stand here and stare at him all night.
“You and I,” he began, “we’re similar in ways I’ve never found with anyone else. It’s . . . disconcerting. Don’t get me wrong, I know you’ve been interested in me for a while. But I don’t date employees.” He finished the wine in his glass in one long swallow.
My face was burning hot. He’d known I was utterly infatuated with him? How . . . mortifying. It was pointless to try to deny it, so I didn’t.
“So your solution is . . . to threaten me?”
He turned sharply. “I wasn’t threatening you. I need you to do what I say, for your own good.”
“Why? What’s going on? What are you working on?”
“I can’t tell you. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
All cylinders were firing in my brain as I puzzled through his words. “Does it have anything to do with what I was talking about last night?”
After a pause, he said, “Remember what happened to Terry, and be careful. Are you on track to deliver on Friday?”
I nodded. “It’ll be tight, but I can make it happen.”
“Okay. We’ll meet Monday morning for a status report.” He headed for the door.
“Wait—” I put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “That’s it? You kiss me, twice, and now you’re just going to leave?”
“If we’re counting, I kissed you once,” he corrected, his lips twitching into a smirk. “But if you’d like, I could kiss you again.”
I let go of him as if I’d been burned. “No. No more kissing. You’re my boss and besides, I’m . . . seeing . . . Clark.” Had to search for the right word there.
Jackson frowned. “The dickhead neighbor?”
“He’s not a dickhead. I just . . . took him by surprise with my unexpected revelation.” I didn’t want to use the V-word again.
“So all’s forgiven?” The derision in his voice was hard to miss.
“What do you care?” His sudden interest in my personal life was throwing me off balance.
“Because he’s outside your normal routine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You are someone for whom ‘spontaneous’ is a dirty word. Your schedule is mapped out weeks in advance, with no deviation. Now, suddenly, you’re letting a man you barely know into your apartment, telling him personal things about yourself?”
I ignored that last part. “What do you know about my schedule?”
“Tonight’s Thai and gaming. Tomorrow is a pedicure, groceries, laundry, and grandma. Am I right?”
A chill went down my spine and it wasn’t even a tiny bit good.
“How do you know all of that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t! Have you been stalking me or something? Did you hack into my system here at home?” I scrambled to think of where and when my webcam had been over the past few weeks. “Have you been watching me?”
“I haven’t been stalking you, don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Did I have to know all about you before I assigned you to Wyndemere? Yes.”
I was furious. “Has anything you said been true?” I asked. “Or have you just been trying to manipulate me?”
Jackson sighed. “Don’t turn this into a thing, China—”
Final straw. “Get out.”
“China—”
“I said get out.” I was furious and hurt. Jackson was a shit and I was no closer to understanding why he’d done the things he had or what was true and what was false. All I knew was that I was done . . . at least for tonight. “I may work for you, but this is my home and I want you gone.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched. He looked intimidating, towering over me, but I stood my ground.
“This isn’t over,” he growled. “Monday. My office.” He yanked open the door and strode outside.
“Fine!” I called after him in a fit of temper. Not my best comeback, or even in the top ten, really. I slammed the door shut.
I didn’t consider myself an emotional person, but I was ready to cry. I was embarrassed that Jackson knew so much about me, yet I knew so little about him and his motivations. I couldn’t help how attracted I was to him or how he fascinated me. He was right—we were similar people. I’d never found someone who could understand me. Really understand me. I had a sneaking suspicion that Jackson did. And none of that had changed, no matter how angry I was. If anything, I found him more intriguing now.
I was so weird.
Then there was Clark. I should like him instead. He was a nice, normal guy who was drop-dead gorgeous and for some bizarre reason, he liked me. And I liked him. He certainly gave me butterflies, which was a good thing. And he wasn’t my boss. Also a good thing. We were miles apart in personality and interests, but opposites attract, right?
I thought hard as I got ready for bed, pulling on my Star Wars pajamas. Yes, logic dictated I put aside my adolescent infatuation with Jackson and pursue a grown-up bona fide relationship with Clark.
But as I settled into bed, pulling the covers up precisely in a fold underneath my arms and staring at the darkened ceiling, I realized that was a lot easier said than done.
10
A banging on my door woke me the next morning and I stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I hadn’t slept well and I tried to comb my hair with my fingers as I crossed through the living room to the front door.
The knock came again as I pulled open the door. “Stop,” I pleaded.
Clark stood there, one hand still poised to knock, holding a drink tray with two Starbucks cups in the other. His brows flew up when he saw me.
“I woke you?” he asked.
“Ya think?” I snorted, then turned away, letting him follow me inside. I headed for the couch as he shut the door. Grabbing a blanket from the basket on the floor, I tucked it around me as I burrowed into the corner of the sofa. “What are you doing up so early on a Sunday?”
“I was worried about you,” Clark said, sitting next to me and handing me one of the cups of coffee. I sniffed appreciatively. I always wanted Starbucks on Sunday morning, but was just too lazy to actually get in my car and go get it.
“Why? I’m perfectly fine.” I took a careful sip. Pumpkin spice. Yum. I’d say it was a lucky guess, but I was a middle-class white girl, so it wasn’t like it had been a total shot in the dark that I’d like that particular latte flavor.
“Your boss was here last night, on a Saturday night, being all dick-like and controlling.” He looked at me. “You’re telling me none of that is worrying?”
Clark was freshly showered and shaved, the dampness of his hair making it an even darker shade so it was nearly black. He wore a blue long-sleeved shirt that had three buttons, the top two undone. The fabric stretched tight across his broad shoulders and showcased the depth of his chest from front to back. He wasn’t a supertall guy, but he was a big guy.
Suddenly self-conscious, I combed my fingers again through my hair, which lay in long heavy waves over my shoulders. My pajamas were as far from sexy as it was possible to be, though they wer
e really comfy.
“Sometimes my job can be a little demanding,” I said with a shrug.
“A little demanding?” The sarcasm was hard to miss. “What the hell do you do? I thought you were a computer programmer.”
“I am . . . sort of.” I took another sip.
“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”
“Well, it’s just that I’m a bit more than your usual programmer,” I tried to explain. “The stuff we do, it’s really advanced and cutting-edge. We create software and tech that sometimes have their origins in science fiction. We make it real.” It was one of the coolest things about my job, and I could feel excitement curling in my belly. “Things you could only imagine being able to do in the future, we are actively creating every day.”
“Like what?”
Okay, not a whole lot I could say here since so much was secret, but there were a few things. “Things like . . . a computer chip inside your head that can do things, trick your body. Like control your appetite if you’re wanting to lose weight and make you think you’re not hungry. Or to curb the urge to smoke or drink. Even control pain receptors in your brain.
“Say you’re in the military and you’re a solider. You get hurt on a mission but need to keep going. Your pain could be controlled without something performance-reducing like morphine. Same for people with chronic pain. Imagine those suffering from debilitating illnesses being able to control their pain without drugs.”
Clark didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm. “A chip in your brain to control your body?”
I nodded. “And that’s just one thing. Biotech. We do other things, too.”
“And you think that’s a good idea? You don’t think that could be abused?”
“Everything can be abused. You can’t stop that. But I don’t think we shouldn’t invent the future just because someone might use it in a way I find personally distasteful.”
“Sounds like you’re rationalizing,” he said.
“I’m not. It’s just the way it is.” I took another sip of coffee. The blue of Clark’s shirt perfectly matched his eyes. Not that that was relevant.
“I can see why your job could be dangerous. I’d imagine there’s a lot on the line with what you guys do.”
“Especially this current project,” I said. “Though I haven’t quite figured out why.” That was something else that had kept me up last night.
“What do you mean, you don’t know why?”
I hesitated. “It’s complicated. And a couple of people have died under suspicious circumstances. I was followed the other day.”
His eyes narrowed. “You were followed?” he asked, his voice sharp.
“Yeah but my car kicks ass, so it was okay.”
His hand on my arm stilled my attempt to take another sip of my latte. I glanced at him.
“It’s not okay.”
The stark worry in his eyes took me by surprise. “Why do you care?” I asked.
“I care because I’ve gotten to know you, and I like you,” he said. “I care because . . . you’re alone and young and you’ve done incredible things—are doing incredible things. You’ve taken yourself from being a Nebraska farmer’s daughter to working for one of the most advanced tech companies in the world. That may be not a big deal to you . . . but I think you’re fucking amazing.”
Clark blurred in my vision and I had to set down my coffee to hurriedly wipe my eyes. No one had said anything like that to me before and it shocked me how much I was affected by his earnest words.
It felt so good to have someone say those things to me. My family had always known me for being ubersmart. It wasn’t a big deal. To have a man like Clark look at me as though I was admirable rather than just an aberration . . . it rocked me.
Clark rested a hand on my head, stroking down through my hair, then repeating the gesture. I didn’t look at him, afraid if I did that, he’d stop.
“And I’m not about to let anyone hurt you because you’re too cerebral to realize you’re in danger.”
His murmured words struck me as slightly odd—how could Clark, an HR rep, possibly be able to do anything to keep me safe? But I didn’t say anything. If he wanted to play Superman to my Lois Lane, that was fine with me. Everybody needed their fantasy delusions.
He urged me closer and it didn’t take much for me to give in and lean against him. He wrapped his arms around me, which made me feel all warm and cuddly. Clark smelled really good and I took a deeper breath, trying not to be too obvious. He still stroked my hair and I would’ve purred like a cat if I could, but I totally couldn’t roll my Rs.
The air grew thick in my lungs and maybe it was just my imagination, but it seemed as though Clark’s touch changed from comforting to a slower, more sensual caress. If I tipped my head back just a few inches . . .
The rattle of a key in the lock had me jerking guiltily away from Clark as Mia bopped into the house.
“Hey, Aunt Chi! I—” She stopped abruptly when she saw us, her eyes going round as proverbial saucers. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt the morning after—”
Oh. My. God. “You’re not interrupting,” I hurried to say, my cheeks aflame. “Clark was nice enough to bring me coffee this morning. I was up late last night. Working.”
The grin on her face said she didn’t believe a word of it, but what could I do?
“Um, yeah, thanks for stopping by, Clark,” I said, scrambling off the couch. “Mia and I have pedicures scheduled today so I’ll catch you later.”
“Sure, okay.” He got up and I walked him to the foyer.
“Thank you for the coffee.”
“It was my pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”
It was cold out and I wrapped my arms around myself, sliding my fogged glasses down my nose a bit so I could watch him walk back to his place. A little sigh escaped. He was sooo pretty . . . and the view from behind was pretty darn good, too.
Clark glanced back just as he got to his door and totally caught me staring at his ass. Crap. I shut the door fast, but not quick enough to miss his grin.
“Look at you, Aunt Chi! Way to go!”
“It is not what you think,” I insisted, ignoring her attempt to high-five me. “He really did just bring me coffee.”
“Oh.” She looked crestfallen, then brightened. “So I guess he groveled and you guys made up for whatever he did the other night?”
I wasn’t sure how much groveling had been involved but . . . “Yeah.”
“Good. I’m glad. Because he is really hot,” she said with the kind of enthusiastic appreciation only a teen girl could produce.
Shaking my head at her, I headed for my bedroom. “I’m going to shower. Our appointment is in an hour, then we need to hit the grocery store.”
“Okay, but we’re going to have to make a stop at the pet store, too.”
“Why?” I turned back around to find her peering into the fish tank. Oh no . . .
“Because The Doctor bit the dust.” She poked the little gold lump floating on top of the water.
Shit.
“But I always have Helen,” I said to the manager of the nail salon. “Every Sunday.”
“Helen called in sick today,” he said for the third time. “But Hugh is available.” He gestured to the man standing by us, waiting.
“It’s okay,” Mia said to me. “I’m sure he’ll do a good job.” She smiled at Hugh.
“But . . . Helen does my toes . . .”
“It’ll be fine.” Mia pulled me toward the back, following Hugh.
“I’ve never had a man do my pedicure,” I whispered.
“It’s the same,” she reassured me.
But it totally wasn’t and after I stopped him endlessly “massaging” my legs—twice—and he tried repeatedly to ask me in broken English if I wasn’t liking my pedicure, I decided I’d had enough.
“Um, I need to get going,” I said, grabbing my shoes. Mia glanced at me. Her toes were already drying, the dainty pink nails flawless. �
�Sorry.”
He was still trying to ask me if there was something he could do to make my pedicure better as we were heading out the door. Now I had naked toes and would have to deal with naked toes all week long.
Not only did we have to stop by the pet store and buy a new Doctor, but we had to go by the office supply store in order to get Mia everything she needed for school Monday morning. Grocery shopping was an experience as well because she took exception to my food—or lack thereof. I stared in wonderment at my now-overflowing refrigerator.
Mia didn’t eat school food so she wanted to take her lunch. But apparently she was a princess because she didn’t eat the stuff I’d taken for lunch when I was her age. No peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for her with a side of potato chips.
No, she liked to make salads with freshly chopped lettuce and veggies, sandwiches on ciabatta bread, and fruit with cream cheese dip as a snack. Plus assorted cheeses and crackers, various kinds of energy and vitamin drinks, and cranberry bagels with strawberry cream cheese for her breakfast.
“I’m glad she at least eats healthy,” I muttered to myself.
We’d spent the rest of the afternoon and evening rearranging my office to be her bedroom. Mia had insisted she have her own space. “Especially if you and the hottie next door decide to get a little more cozy,” she’d said with a wink.
I’d chosen to ignore her comment, grunting as I lugged my Iron Man out of the room and into the hallway. Inch by inch, I managed, but no way could I get it downstairs to my bedroom, so I left it in the corner at the top of the stairs. It didn’t look too bad there, I decided, and the sharp ache in my lower back agreed with me.
The bus schedule for school had been downloaded, the coffeepot readied, and clothes laid out for her first day. As I hugged Mia goodnight and went to my room, I felt all the jitters of a new mom sending her baby off to kindergarten for the first time. Would they be nice to her? Would she find friends? Would she like her classes and her teachers? What if the bus crashed on the way to school? They didn’t have seat belts on those things.
It was something new to worry about, as if I didn’t have enough on my mind, all of which combined to keep me staring at the ceiling a long time before I got to sleep.