HUNTER (The Caine Brothers Book 1) (2 page)

“Who’s the blonde beauty stomping out the door?” Colton asked as he joined them. “Hey Dad, congratulations.”

Dalton slapped Colton on the back. “Thanks, son. That blonde beauty is Hunter’s new personal assistant.”

“Lucky you, bro.”

“So where’s the new wife?” Hunter asked, changing the subject away from himself.

“Gwen’s with her daughter, Cassie, and her parents, having a family moment. I figured I’d do the same.”

“Aren’t we all one big happy family now?” Xander asked.

Dalton shrugged. “Gotta give it some time for everyone to blend. Her parents don’t really like me. Don’t trust me and my money, apparently.”

“And Cassie? She doesn’t like you, either?” Xander asked.

Dalton shrugged as if the stepdaughter’s opinion was of no consequence to him. “She’s only eighteen, and shy.”

“Guess we have a sister now,” Colton said.

Hunter snorted. “I almost wish I still lived at home for a chance to see Dad try to raise a girl.”

Dalton waved a dismissive hand. “She’s going to college in the fall, so it’ll just be me and Gwen.”

“Darling,” Gwen came up behind Dalton and linked her arm with his. She wore her long black hair swept up, and her wedding attire was a modest champagne-colored suit rather than a girlish white gown. In her mid-forties she was at least ten years Dalton’s junior, but she glowed when she looked at him, beaming like the new bride she was. Hunter hoped Dalton could make her happy, though knowing his father Hunter figured Dalton was more concerned with whether Gwen could make him happy than the other way around. “The band is about to play the first dance,” she said, tugging on him to follow her.

Dalton turned and kissed her, and to Hunter’s surprise it seemed like he did it with genuine affection. Hunter hardly remembered his own mother. She’d died of cancer shortly after Damian was born. The two stepmothers who had produced Jaxon, Colton, and Bishop had come and gone without the kind of tenderness Dalton showed Gwen. Rita, Jaxon and Colton’s mother, had died in a car accident, and when Dalton discovered what Sylvia, Bishop’s mother was, they’d split and Sylvia had disappeared back to the nature she loved.

“Certainly, my sweet.” Dalton patted her hand and turned to lead her away. “Don’t go anywhere, boys. I still want that drink with all my sons.”

Hunter groaned. So much for a quick escape.

Monday morning at eight a.m. sharp, Allison showed up at the executive suite of the Caine Development corporate offices in downtown Houston’s Caine Tower. After Dalton Caine’s wedding and reception on Saturday, she’d gone home and written her letter of resignation. No woman needed to put up with that kind of misogynistic bullshit, no matter how prestigious the company. She didn’t hold out any hope that Hunter—the oldest Caine spawn—would be any different from his father, especially after the flirting at the wedding. As if he was entitled to treat her that way because he paid her. Not very professional at all. She could find another job with a better company—maybe one run by a woman—to give her a foot in the door of the corporate world.

Determined to blaze her own career trail, she’d decided when she finished law school and passed the bar not to become a mindless hundred-hour-a-week minion at some law firm. When she’d graduated she’d started looking outside the box for jobs in the legal departments of unique, innovative companies where maybe she could accomplish both the learning process of the hundred-hour-a-week job in addition to working in her field of choice.

However, she’d needed an income while looking for her dream job, which had led her to take the PA job at Caine Development Corp.

She pushed open the brushed glass door of the executive suite to find Missy, the receptionist, sitting guard at her desk.

“Is Mr. Caine in?” Allison asked.

“Yes,” Missy said. “But you don’t have to ask me. You work here.”

Not for long.

She’d worn her best power suit—a charcoal gray pencil skirt and fitted jacket with a light blue silk blouse underneath—and her favorite black pumps. She wanted to appear as professional as possible.

She crossed the suite and passed through her small office outside the CEO’s. She popped her head into Dalton Caine’s office—now belonging to Hunter Caine. At least Hunter didn’t leave his door closed like his father had, forcing anyone who wanted an audience to knock for permission to see Himself.

“Mr. Caine?” Allison asked, alerting him to her presence.

He stood at the wall of windows, reading something on a tablet. He’d shed his sports coat. The slacks, matching vest, and white shirt with sleeves rolled to just under his elbows was a good look for him. But distracting for her. Seriously, did the man have to look so good? It made it difficult to focus.

“Miss McDowell—Allison—come in. We need to talk.”

She stopped short, shifting her attention away from his attire to his tone, which if she read him right, hinted at something negative. “Actually, yes, we do,” she said. She wanted to beat him to the punch, if there was a punch to be beaten.

“Do you mind closing the door? And please, have a seat.”

He moved to his desk and sat behind it as she closed the door and took the chair opposite him.

“Listen, I spent some time thinking this weekend, and—” Allison began.

“That’s good to hear,” he said, interrupting her. She bit her tongue to temper her irritation. “I did the same, and I want you to know that even though my father hired you, that doesn’t mean I automatically inherit you. You’re not a piece of property. I’d be happy if you stayed, but I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

His words came across as sincere and contrite after the way he’d treated her over the weekend, and his expression suggested honesty. Yet, she wasn’t sure what he meant by not feeling obligated to say. Did he want her to quit?

She paused and considered him for just a moment. He had to be early thirties compared to her late twenties, but he carried himself with a mature confidence that had to be borne of his wealth and name. He was just used to people following him and doing what he said, and he was clearly comfortable with it. Standing somewhere around six feet tall, his lean form spoke of fitness, but not obsession with body image. He kept his dark blond hair short and neat, and since she’d seen him on Saturday he’d shaved the hint of stubble he’d worn to the reception and now his face was smooth as a baby’s behind. His most striking features, though, were his bright blue eyes, the straight, strong nose he shared with his father, the crease in the forehead between his eyes that spoke of his constant concern about Important Matters, and a complete lack of smile. His lips were nice, as was the square jaw, but she wondered how a smile would transform his face, if at all.

“You know nothing about me. Why would you be willing to keep me on? Unless all you plan to have me do is make coffee and file paperwork.”

The ghost of humor lurked at the corners of his mouth, but never really manifested into anything even close to a smile. “Missy makes very acceptable coffee, and is an accomplished filer. Besides, my father and I may not do things the same, but I trust his instincts.” He looked down at his tablet, then back at her. “What do you know about resorts?”

The out-of-context question threw her. “In what capacity?”

He swung the tablet around and pushed it in her direction, so she could see what he’d been reading. A prospectus on a luxury resort in Costa Rica filled the screen. She pulled it toward her and scanned the history, financials, property information.

“Well, it’s making a modest profit, probably needs some upgrading, but it’s in a beautiful location with plenty to do.”

“I’m thinking about buying it as an investment property. You’re right about the location. It’s perfect. I want to make it a destination vacation—a luxury resort for relaxing on the beach, but add an adventure element so guests can get an adrenaline fix in the jungle.”

Excitement buzzed in his voice, just under the surface.

“Sounds good.” She had no idea why he asked her opinion, though.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together. No smile, but an eagerness filled his eyes. His attitude drew her in and made her want to share it.

“Good,” he said. “I need your help. Right now it’s a couple’s resort. I want to go in undercover to get a real feel for the place before I make an offer. That way I know what I’m actually getting, as opposed to everyone putting on their best show for a potential buyer.”

She had to admit, it sounded reasonable. “How can I help?”

He cocked his head and looked at her as if the answer was obvious. “It’s a couple’s resort. I can’t go alone. I need someone to go with me. As a couple.”

“Wait. What? Are you serious? No. Of course not. You and I are not a couple.” She shot back into her seat, startled he’d even suggest such a thing.

“No, but we need to appear to be a couple for the purposes of exploring the resort.”

“You act like I’ve already agreed, which I haven’t. Why would I? I hardly know you. You don’t know me at all. I’m sure you know plenty of women you could choose from. Any one of them would be happy to hang on your arm and fawn all over you like an actual girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend, and while I’ve certainly known plenty of women, I need a woman who won’t distract me from the job at hand. It’s strictly a working trip, so I’d like to take my assistant.”

Had he just insulted her? Claimed she wouldn’t be a distraction? Or simply proposed a business arrangement?

A trip to a resort in Costa Rica was well outside her budget, and could be a lot of fun, even if she was shackled to Hunter Caine the whole time.

“Nobody will buy into us as a couple,” she said, crossing her arms.

“What’s the matter? Don’t think you can even fake an attraction to me?”

He slipped a sexy tone into his voice on the sly, and she almost missed it, but she couldn’t mistake the smirk that accompanied it. In the office he came across as all business, but the man was clearly comfortable with his own sexuality and she doubted he thought for a second she’d have to fake anything. Come to think of it, she probably wouldn’t, which kind of pissed her off.

Her instinct was to allow an equal amount of suggestiveness into her own voice and tell him, “I can fake it if you can.” But he probably didn’t need—or deserve—any encouragement, so she chose to ignore the bait.

Instead, she fiddled with the envelope in her lap, remembering why she’d wanted to talk to him in the first place. Maybe it would be reckless to quit just yet. He didn’t seem to be as bad as his father, at least not yet. He was certainly easy on the eyes, not that that was a necessary, or desirable, quality in a boss.

“I suppose,” she said. “I actually came to see you today so I could resign…”

His brows came together and he interrupted; apparently a bad habit of his. “Why?”

She looked down at her lap for a moment, reading his name in her own flowing script on the envelope, then met his gaze again. “Your father fosters a work environment that’s condescending to women. Your behavior at the wedding didn’t make me believe you’d be any different. I can’t continue to work in that kind of setting.”

His expression hardened. “I’m not my father. If I made you uncomfortable at the wedding, I apologize. Chalk it up to alcohol and too much family.”

He seemed sincere, as if he wanted to distance himself from his father’s reputation and forge his own. So far he’d been nothing but professional in this meeting with no hint of the flirting from the weekend. If anything, she’d be the one having difficulty focusing on work with him and his sexy presence distracting her.

“How about this,” she said. “I’ll make a deal with you: I’ll give you this working trip, then make a decision after we get back.”

“Excellent.”

He grinned, and it was a good thing she was already sitting. If she hadn’t been, she’d likely have gone weak in the knees and collapsed in an embarrassing puddle on the floor. Hunter Caine’s face transformed when he smiled, from a stern, serious CEO into a beautiful man. His eyes lit up and sparkled, surrounded by the most sexy crinkles she’d ever seen. Straight teeth filled his smile, and all she could think was how happy it made her that she’d put that smile on his face.

It took effort not to do something silly like wave her hand in front of her face like a swoony Victorian woman, or lick her lips and gaze longingly at him. Her erratic heartbeat and shallow breath was bad enough. It was the stupidest, most junior-high feeling she’d had since she’d been a teenager, but good God, Hunter Caine was fucking gorgeous and she suddenly doubted her ability to keep her hands off him and her mind on work while in Costa Rica.