Conflict of Interest (12 page)

He shouldn’t go on the defensive, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this hostility. “Maybe if you’d paid attention to our company, instead of just harping on what a fuckup I am, you’d know that.”

“Maybe if you were taking this seriously, instead of using a couple of stolen kisses as an excuse to not do what you’re supposed to, I might have time for things like that.”

The honest accusation caught him off-guard, but he recovered quickly. This wasn’t about them, it was about his company, and that was more important than almost anything. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “When you took this job, did you look at all into how we’ve built our public image?”

She glared at him. “Of course. Stop trying to change the subject.”

A growl slipped out before he could stop it, and he clenched his jaw, forcing his temper back under control. “I’m giving you answers. Consider listening. Bad press almost destroyed us when we started out, and we learned from that. We’ve used every public moment since as publicity—if it’s going to happen anyway, we’re going to control it. Besides, keeping our antics exposed to the public eye reminds the fans we’re just like them. A side effect is we have a handful of obsessive fans who like to post pictures of us on their Tumblrs. Do I get to know where the third degree is coming from?”

She pulled something from the folder and slid it across his desk. It came to a stop at the edge. He glanced at the printed photos, meaning to dismiss them. He bit back a curse when he saw what they were, not wanting to show how much this was getting under his skin. It was the two of them from dinner, tucked in the back corner of the restaurant looking very cozy right before Cartee interrupted them. How the hell had those gone public? No, better question, why did they exist?

“Explain again.” Her icy tone cut through his shock. “Why you have paparazzi-like stalkers posting things like this to gaming forums.”

He fumbled for a response, knowing she expected a good one. He couldn’t find anything but the truth. “I don’t know. This has never happened outside of things like conventions, magazine interviews, stuff like that.”

She gritted her teeth, eyes hard. “That’s not good enough. Maybe you could have been a little more up front with me about just how deep and fucked up this fan obsession was. It might have been nice to know before my boss found these pictures. I told you when you hired me it had to be clear you had done so because of my professional skills. Now I have to reassure my employer that I’m actually doing my job instead of playing some executive’s afternoon distraction.”

He didn’t like the baseless accusations, but he’d also never meant to get her in trouble. His tone was as solid and emotionless as hers. “It’s never happened before, I swear to you. And it won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Her angry mask didn’t budge. “Because it can’t. Whatever fucked-up game we’re playing has to stop. It doesn’t matter how good you may or not be with your fingers. We’re not a couple, this is a professional relationship, and anything else ends now.”

A new wave of anger and hurt surged through him. “I’m sorry, Miss Carter. I have always been under the impression you were a willing participant.”

She flinched, but didn’t look away. “That’s not my point.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. If we’re done, then I assume you have some new hoops for me to jump through? Things to make you and your career look good?”

She opened her folder, and scanned the papers still inside. “You’ve got a DECA meeting tomorrow at a local high school. Should be simple enough. Even you should be able to avoid compromising pictures.”

He clenched his fist, resisting the urge to slam it into his desk. Instead, he stood and moved to crouch in front of her. He stopped when they were at eye level, never touching her. His voice was low. It was the only way he could control his tone. “Be honest. Is this whole pictures thing really such a big deal that you have to storm into my office like the entire world is coming to an end? That you have to insult me?”

Her brows knit together. “This isn’t just about what the public may or may not think of you anymore. This puts my entire job at risk. People can’t start thinking I sleep with clients.”

Every word devoured him more. He stared at her, keeping his gaze locked on hers. Why couldn’t he drop this? He felt terrible that it might have gotten her in trouble, but his ego wouldn’t let him just walk away. “Did you enjoy it? Any of that horrific intimacy that you think is going to crush your soul? Did you get to prove to yourself that you’re not frigid?”

Her expression wavered again, uncertainty slipping in. She leaned toward him, and then her back went rigid again. “It doesn’t matter.”

His head swam at the light flower of her perfume. This was about proving a point. He wasn’t going to get sucked down the hole of how intoxicating she was. “It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes. I enjoyed it.” Her reply was almost lost in the hum of the air conditioner it was so quiet. “But it still doesn’t matter.”

Victory. Concession. So why did he still feel like a wounded dog? He leaned in, face inches from hers, struggling to ignore her scent and the warmth she radiated. “Sometimes, that’s the only thing that matters. Maybe you’ve got some serious soul-searching to do if you’re willing to surrender that for something as basic and superficial as what other people think of you.”

She didn’t pull away, but uncertainty flickered in her eyes. Her voice wasn’t as strong as it had been. “What aren’t you getting? This is a bit more serious than whether or not a couple of people like the way I hold myself in public.”

He knew that, so why couldn’t he admit it? Her words cut too deeply to ignore. He hated thinking he’d been the only one having fun. “I understand.” He didn’t move. “Are we done?”

“I suppose so.”

He leaned in, mouth near her ear. He forced his voice to remain steady, despite the almost overwhelming urge to kiss her long, slender neck. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

She inhaled sharply, but didn’t move.

Disappointment mingled with his anger, and he took his seat behind his desk again. “I have work to do.” He turned back to his computer, not able to look at her anymore. “I’ll call you after school tomorrow.”

She hesitated at the edge of her chair.

“Is that all?”

She didn’t answer, and seconds later his office door swung shut as she disappeared through it.

A sharp pain gnawed his chest. Why did her dismissal—her ability to write the entire thing off so easily—hurt so much?

Kenzie stripped off her suit and draped the jacket, top, and skirt next to the other outfits she needed to drop off at the dry cleaner in the morning. She’d spent the day catching up on paperwork, making sure everything was going okay, getting behind-the-scenes things like press releases in place for Scott and his company. Her eyes ached from scanning so many emails and filing them. She couldn’t believe she’d let her inbox get over ten messages.

She grabbed a fitted T-shirt from her top drawer and yanked it on. She was reaching for a pair of shorts when her phone rang. The professional chime told her it was work-related. She rolled her eyes and slid her earpiece on before answering. “This is Mackenzie.”

“How’s my favorite mistress?” Scott’s snide greeting added a layer to her exhaustion.

At least that would make it easier not to fall into bad habits. She set her phone on the nightstand and flopped back on her bed, making sure the motion didn’t jar her earpiece loose. The conversation from the day before still echoed in her thoughts—he hadn’t even bothered to deny her accusations he wasn’t taking this serious—and she wasn’t sure if she was furious or just frustrated. “Something tells me you’re not a bowing, scraping, boot-kissing kind of guy.”

“You’d be surprised.”

She didn’t have the patience for whatever he was up to. So why did she want to keep him on the phone, letting his voice tickle her ear? “I usually am with you. How was your thing?”

“Fantastic.” His voice went flat. “I wore a shirt and a tie—a nice shirt, like almost no stains—and now not a single member of DECA wants to be a computer programmer when they grow up because I was so dry and professional they were all either passed out or were threatening to stab their eardrums out when I finished lecturing.”

Was he serious? He couldn’t be. Please let him be joking. “How did it really go?”

He snorted. “Great. Like it usually does. I swear on my series bible I didn’t do anything that would piss anyone off.” He paused. “Well, anyone in the industry. I may have broken a few mothers’ hearts when their kids went home and said they wanted to play video games for a living, but those kids weren’t going to be doctors anyway.”

“Sounds like fun.” The corner of her mouth twitched, and she forced a frown back in place. She wasn’t enjoying this beyond a professional level. He’d been an ass, and she was still pissed off at him.

“So.” His voice abruptly dropped in volume. “I’m sorry about the pictures that got out, and I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

The apology caught her off guard. She wanted to believe it was because she didn’t think he was capable of admitting when he was wrong—that was easier than admitting he might not be the only one regretting what they’d said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried about it. I promised you we’d keep the professional and physical separate, and I violated that trust.”

She appreciated the unique combination of conceit and self-effacing humor he radiated without trying. Was she actually enjoying this conversation? Crap. “It’s done and over, and as long as we’re more careful about where we are when we step from one role to the other—as long as the line doesn’t blur again—it’s all good.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His voice returned to normal, a hint of familiar joking sliding back in. “You know what else I’m glad to hear?”

She furrowed her brow. “No?”

“That I can finally take off this freaking tie. For the record, these things drive me nuts.”

He’d actually dressed up; she was impressed. Still, she had to give him a hard time for complaining about something most people did by default. “Poor baby had to be professional for a couple hours today? Too bad I’m not there, or I could help you into something less restrictive.” Damn it, why had she said that?

His throaty laugh sent a pleasant tremor through her, erasing the lingering strands of her irritation. “So not to change the subject, because I could listen to you talk all night about undressing me, but are you bringing anyone tomorrow?”

The way he’d slid into the flirting and out again without a pause heightened the tingles moving over her skin. No reason to let him know that. “I was thinking I’d invite that guy I met at the bar the other night.”

“I, uh…” He trailed off. “High-heels guy? Because, really?”

So he wasn’t completely in control of the conversation. She smirked even though he couldn’t see it. “No, not really. My sister.”

“The twin?”

“She’s the only sister I’ve got.” She cringed when more of the bar conversation filtered through her thoughts. “You’re not one of those guys with creepy twin fantasies, are you?”

“Maybe.” He quickly added, “No, not really. I’m kind of vanilla like that. Incest doesn’t do it for me.”

The reassurance settled deep. Should she be enjoying this conversation so much? “Vanilla. Right. Because sex in a dressing room is tame.”

“Exactly.”

She paused, waiting for more, disappointment and embarrassment flitting through her when she realized they were suffering awkward silence syndrome. She needed something witty to say.

“So.” His voice startled her. “What are you wearing?”

The question caught her off guard. “T-shirt and panties.” Crap, why had she blurted that out? Why had he asked? She struggled to correct herself. “I just got home, and you called before I finished changing.”

“Not at all what I meant, but it sounds a lot more fun than what I’m wearing. Maybe I should strip down so we match. Only seems fair, right? Less awkward?”

Fantastic logic. She wanted to be bothered by it, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her face as teasing fantasies tripped through her thoughts. “Yes. You stripping down to your boxers so we can have a less awkward phone conversation sounds completely reasonable.”

“You’re not convincing me.” A hint of teasing wove into his voice. “If you’d prefer, I could tell you if I was there, I’d strip your shirt off.” His voice dropped an octave. “Run my lips over your neck. Slide my hands up your sides.”

She was grateful her bedroom window was open a crack because the flush flooding her entire body was raising the temperature by several degrees. She had been the one to demand they tone things down. She should change the subject. Except she didn’t want to. It wasn’t like anyone could take pictures of this. “Really?” Her question came out sultry and breathy. “Then what?”

There was a long pause. “Hello?” she asked.

“Sorry, I was trying to decide if this is a good idea.” Something unrecognizable tinged his response. Disappointment, maybe?

She sighed. She didn’t want the conversation to end, but his pause had given her time to think. After the lecture she’d given him the day before, she didn’t have any right to play like this.

“Then again.” His smooth tone beat back her weak hesitation. “You’re still here, I’m still here, and no one’s watching.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be.” One more time wouldn’t hurt, right? Especially since they weren’t even in the same room. Anticipation was already pulsing through her at how wicked the entire thing was.

“Is that an invitation?” He didn’t sound upset, just hesitant.

Screw it. She could go back to being good tomorrow. “Just this once.”

“Or this fourth time?” he countered. “Not that I’m counting. Promise me I won’t regret it in the morning. Or even better, that you won’t.”

“I’ve never regretted it.” The honesty slipped out before she realized it probably wasn’t the best thing to tell him. “And this would be one hundred percent private.”

“You make a convincing case, Miss Carter.” The way her name rolled off his tongue made her tingle. The professional, mocking tone he usually used was gone, replaced with a heavy seduction. “So where were we?”