by Tara Wyatt
Kayla stood and turned and everything inside her turned to Jell-O. Because standing just a few feet away from her was quite possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. He wasn’t wearing a suit like the other two men, but a deep purple button-down tucked into a pair of white slacks. On most other men, the outfit would’ve looked ridiculous, but on Sebastian, it just looked good. Really, really good. His hair was thick and a rich dark brown, a bit longer on top and shorter on the sides. Striking blue eyes framed with lashes worthy of a Maybelline ad held hers, making goosebumps erupt on her bare arms. His lips were full and his jaw strong, covered with a closely cropped, neatly groomed beard. And then there was the rest of him. An inch or two over six feet, he had broad shoulders and a flat stomach. She was pretty sure she could see the hint of a muscled pec beneath his shirt. He oozed athleticism and strength. Ease and confidence. Straight, white teeth flashed when he smiled at her and held out his hand.
God, even his hand was masculine perfection. Wide and strong with long, capable fingers. She had to bite back a sigh when he enveloped her hand in his. The warmth of his skin seemed to radiate through her, and for a moment, his eyes held hers. A bolt of lust shocking in its intensity zinged through her. Heat flushed her skin as he leaned in a little closer. Oh, fuck, he smelled good, like mint and expensive aftershave. She wanted to rub herself on him like a cat.
“Kayla, hi,” he said, his voice a pleasant baritone. “I’m so sorry. I was stuck on a call. Please, let’s continue.” She didn’t realize that she was still holding his hand until he took it back.
“It’s no problem,” she managed to say, shaking her head slightly as she sat back down in her chair. Sebastian walked down the length of the table to an empty seat, giving her a view of his muscled ass in those white pants.
Oh. Holy. Hell.
Visions of the two of them, alone in the conference room, making very good use of the glass table swam before her eyes, but she forced herself to blink them away.
No. She was here to do a job. Attractive or not, Sebastian would be her boss, and nothing more. And more than anything, she really wanted this job. Needed it to keep working toward her plan. Because if she followed the plan, things would turn out better for her than they did for her mom. And then any kids Kayla had wouldn’t know what it was like to go to bed still hungry because supper had been half a can of ravioli and a piece of toast. They wouldn’t know what it was like to wonder where their mother was, what man she’d be bringing home this time, what misery it would eventually lead to. They wouldn’t know what it was like to wear shoes a size too small for so long that their pinky toes were slightly bent.
“Kayla was just telling us about her internship with Peugeot in France,” said Mr. Stammler, and Sebastian’s eyes met hers again. Butterflies exploded in her stomach, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. And then, in a seemingly unconscious gesture, he started rolling up the sleeves of his button down.
Was he trying to kill her? He was trying to kill her.
“Wow. That must’ve been an incredible experience,” he said, continuing to slowly roll the fabric up his forearm, stopping just shy of his elbow. Her eyes flicked from his to the corded muscle now exposed. Warmth flooded outward from her core, making her limbs tingle. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d barely met the guy and she was practically drooling over him. He followed the path of her gaze and shrugged, causing the fabric of his shirt to pull tight against his shoulders. “Sorry. It’s a bit warm in here,” he said casually as he set to work on the opposite sleeve.
She couldn’t disagree.
Clearing her throat, she stood and leaned over the table to hand him the last packet she’d prepared. Their fingers brushed as he took it, and she fought back a shiver.
“Miss Bristowe, why don’t you tell us why you want to work for Silver Stream development?” asked Mr. Riggs, who’d otherwise been silent the entire time.
Tearing her gaze away from her sexy as hell potential boss, she smiled as she started to answer. She’d been on so many interviews that she could handle just about any question thrown at her.
And she did. Over the next half hour, the three of them took turns asking her about her strengths and weaknesses, her achievements, challenges she’d overcome, what her first ninety days in the role would entail, where she saw herself in five years, even her hobbies. And she was pretty sure she was nailing every single question, even if Sebastian’s face—hell, Sebastian’s everything—was a massive distraction. Clearly one she’d need to learn to deal with if she had any hope of working here. With him. Under him.
Directly under him…her mind drifted back to the ways they could use the conference table. Again. Oops.
“And are you married? Single?” asked Mr. Stammler. Given his age and the tone of the question, she knew there was no ill-intent behind it, despite the fact that he wasn’t allowed to ask her that. She glanced at Sebastian, whose head was cocked to the side, his gaze radiating heat. Was he interested in her answer? Because based on his body language, it really looked like he was.
“You can’t ask that,” said Mr. Riggs softly. “Please don’t answer that.”
Kayla just nodded and laid her hands on the table, making sure to display her very ringless fingers. Just in case the answer mattered to anyone.
“In that case, I think that’s everything. Unless you have any questions for us,” Mr. Riggs said tonelessly.
“Actually, I have one last question,” Sebastian said casually. He met her eyes again. “You’re the most impressive candidate we’ve had, by a long shot. You’re smart, driven, and a hard worker. Seriously. Very, very impressive.”
She licked her lips, blushing. “Thank you. I take my work seriously. But, um, that’s not a question?”
He flashed that devastating smile her way again. “When can you start?”
Kayla turned the shower off and grabbed one of the fluffy white towels from the heated towel rack mounted to the wall. Wrapping the warm terrycloth around herself, she moved the thick white shower curtain back and stepped out, her toes disappearing into the plush bathmat. Once she’d dried herself off, she padded out into the bedroom, enjoying the peace and quiet of being alone. Booking herself a single room with only one queen-sized bed was one of the perks (and quite possibly the only perk) of organizing this stupid retreat.
With a huff, she discarded the towel on the bed and began rummaging through her bag for the outfit she planned to wear to the cocktail party tonight, along with her comb, hair dryer (she always brought her own because hotel hair dryers usually didn’t have diffuser attachments) and makeup bag. As she moved, she could feel an ache already settling into her muscles from her two hours of snowboarding. If you could call the meager sliding around she’d done snowboarding. And yet her shoulders, abs, thighs and calves were all sore. She’d thought she was in decent shape, but apparently not. Yet another reason to wish this damn retreat was over; she didn’t know how her body was going to survive another three days of snowboarding.
She combed through her wet curls, and then got dressed, trying not to think about Sebastian. Nope. She wasn’t going to think about him, or how good he’d looked. How healthy. Healthier than he’d looked in a long time. Gone were the shadows under his eyes and the gauntness in his cheeks from the last several months she’d worked with him. She also wasn’t going to think about how her body had jolted to life when he’d put his hands on her hips, guiding her through what should’ve been a simple movement. But she hadn’t been able to absorb anything with his hands on her, and he’d had to show her multiple times. She wasn’t going to think about the way her nipples had beaded and her thighs had clenched at having him so close.
Nope. Not going to think about any of that.
She scrutinized her outfit in the mirror, smoothing her hands down the camel-colored sweater dress. Frowning, she pulled a black belt out of her suitcase and looped it around her waist. There. Now it had some shape to it.
She retreated back int
o the bathroom to dry her hair and do her makeup, trying to think of anything but Sebastian. Trying and failing, because right there, floating on the surface of her brain, was the memory of her job interview and it all came rushing back. How attracted she’d been to him, the easy chemistry and subtle flirty vibe, his ease and confidence. He’d ruined it all before her first year was through, though. He’d missed meetings. He’d bailed on important events. He’d dumped things in her lap that she wasn’t quite ready to handle yet. He’d disappear for a day or two and then resurface, looking a little worse for wear. He’d clearly been stuck in some kind of downward spiral that had only worsened over the years. At first, she’d felt bad for him, but he’d quickly burned through all of her goodwill.
It wasn’t that he’d ever deliberately treated her poorly. No, he’d been so self-involved and wrapped up in his own world that he’d been completely clueless as to how his behavior affected the people he worked with. He’d been totally oblivious to how difficult he’d made things for her, because he was a selfish, privileged ass. And in her books, that was almost worse. She wasn’t even a person with a life, with feelings and goals and challenges to him. She’d just been someone to clean up his messes.
She hadn’t set out to get him fired the morning she’d gone to Stammler with the stack of files. All she’d wanted was help managing the impossible workload he’d left in her lap. She’d been treading water for months, trying to do both her job and his.
But she hadn’t been sorry to see him go. She had taken a sort of gleeful pleasure in seeing him marched out, sandwiched between two security guards. He’d caused her so much grief for three years that although she should’ve felt bad for him, she didn’t. Besides. It wasn’t like he’d be broke or homeless. He was a trust fund kid who’d land on his feet.
Or so she’d thought…She paused, her signature red lipstick raised halfway to her face, his words from earlier slamming back into her.
You fucked up my life pretty bad, Kayla. I lost my apartment. I lost my job. Look at me. I’m a thirty-four year old snowboarding instructor. Yeah, I screwed up. But I was on the edge and you pushed me right the fuck over, sweetheart.
Had she…had she caused this?
A tight knot formed in her chest, and she knew that feeling. Guilt.
“No,” she said to herself in the mirror. “This isn’t on me. It’s on him. Sebastian’s problems are not my concern.” She blew out a breath. This was just another example of an entitled, privileged asshole blaming everyone but himself for his problems. Trying to guilt her into making her feel bad when she had nothing to feel bad about. God knew he got off on tormenting her. “Just get through the retreat. That’s all you need to do. Just get through it and you’ll never have to deal with Sebastian Prescott again.”
She started playing a podcast on her phone, hoping that having something to listen to would drive him from her mind. Once she’d finished getting ready, she stepped back to scrutinize her appearance. She was going for ski bunny chic—put together but casual, pretty but cozy. The welcome cocktail wasn’t anything super fancy, just some hors d’oeuvres and hot apple cider served while people mingled and Mr. Stammler gave a short welcome speech. She glanced over and checked the time on her phone and frowned. If she left now, she’d be at least fifteen minutes too early. She liked to time things so she was exactly five minutes early. Not early enough that she looked desperate, and definitely not late. As far as she was concerned, five minutes early was on time, on time was late, and being actually late was simply unacceptable.
So, she strolled back into the bedroom, turned on the gas fireplace nestled into the corner, and stood in front of the sliding glass doors that led to a small balcony. The view was absolutely breathtaking. Snowcapped mountains poked up into the darkening sky, almost touching the streaks of orange and violet painted along the horizon. The ski hill lights had come on, illuminating the resort with a soft, warm glow. Silhouetted pines clustered together, coated in snow. It really was peaceful up here. Beautiful and serene.
Was that why Sebastian had come here?
Crap. She was thinking about him again.
She huffed out a breath and grabbed her phone from where she’d tossed it on the bed, sinking down onto the plush white duvet. She opened her ongoing group chat with her friends, which they all took turns renaming. It had just been renamed “The Chamber of Secrets” and given Dori’s penchant for all things Harry Potter, Kayla’s money was on her.
Kayla: You guys won’t believe who’s here at the retreat.
Dori: Voldemort?
Brandon: How would a fictional character be at Kayla’s retreat?
Dori: She said we wouldn’t believe it. I mean, it could happen. And then maybe the stern brunch daddy that is Lucius Malfoy would be there too, and then I could get on a bus to Vermont and, you know, see what happens.
Brandon: Step away from the Harry Potter erotica, okay?
Dori: I’m reading this really good one right now, though. It’s called Accio Dickus. You’d probably like it.
Willa: Who’s there?
Lauren: Um, I think I know.
Kayla: Wait, what?
Lauren: Well, tell us who it is first.
Kayla: Sebastian. As in Prescott. As in my ex-boss.
Lauren: Yeah. I didn’t want to say anything when you told me the name of the resort, because hey, you might not even run into him, so why stress you out and have you stewing over something that might not even happen. Sorry. Maybe I should’ve given you a heads up.
Brandon: The guy you got fired is there? Why???
Kayla: He works here as a snowboarding instructor. And I didn’t get him fired!
Willa: I didn’t know he was into snowboarding. Huh.
Kayla: Apparently, and he’s actually really good. You should’ve seen these flips and things he was doing. Pretty impressive.
Lauren: Yeah, he was pretty active on the competitive circuit in his late teens and early twenties. He was even an alternate on the 2006 Olympic team. He was supposed to make the team for 2010, but he injured his knee and had to have major surgery, and he never really went back to it after that, according to Theo.
Theo: Yep. Everything my gorgeous fiancée just said (wrote?) is true. Sorry we didn’t give you a heads up. Like Lauren said, we were thinking that you probably wouldn’t run into him.
Kayla: Oh, I ran into him alright. And then I had to spend two hours taking a class from him. And a heads up would’ve been nice, FYI
Lauren: But then you just would’ve spent weeks stewing about something that might not even happen.
Kayla: That’s not true.
Willa: Kayla.
Dori: Kayla!
Brandon: Oh, Kayla, come on.
Kayla: Okay, fine! I would’ve stewed and obsessed. But I still would’ve appreciated knowing that my evil ex-boss works at the resort hosting this stupid retreat.
Dori: So…what happens now? You guys finally bang out all of that sexual tension?
Brandon: Good Lord, you’re horny. You reallllllly need to get some.
Dori: I KNOWWWWWWWW
Kayla: What? What are you talking about? What sexual tension?
Lauren: I don’t know, you and Bastian…there was a vibe there. I mean, I know he pissed you off all the time, and it wasn’t okay the way he hung you out to dry over and over again. But, like, I think there’s a reason he got so far under your skin, beyond his crappy job performance.
Kayla: Theo, he’s your brother. Come on. Tell everyone that that’s crazy.
Theo: I plead the fifth on the grounds of not wanting to talk about my brother’s sex life.
Kayla: I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH HIS SEX LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Willa: But do you want to?
Kayla: NO.
Dori: Are you sure?
Kayla: Okay, Lauren. I officially owe you an apology. Because it is super fucking annoying to have all of your friends analyzing your relationship and love life and telling you how you feel. I’m so
rry. We totally did that with you and Theo.
Lauren: Apology accepted and no worries. Everything worked out in the end.