HUNTER (The Caine Brothers Book 1) (3 page)

Hunter shifted in the seat of his private jet, adjusting himself to relieve some of the throbbing caused by his not-so-fake attraction to Allison. He’d realized when she got up and left his office the mistake he’d made. Her perfect rounded ass had mocked him as she walked out, followed closely by the miles of gorgeous legs in her just-perfectly-tight skirt and conservative black pumps.

They’d made travel arrangements for a week beyond the meeting in his office, and he’d spent the ensuing week struggling not to ogle her. It was a fucking impossibility.

She’d been nothing but completely professional the entire time. Not even a hint of awareness of him. She was all business all the time, which irritated the hell out of him because he was usually the focused executive. He always had a tight rein on his emotions and handled everything to do with business with orderly precision.

Until Allison sauntered into his office. Since then his grip on the haughty executive image had begun to crumble.

Now she sat across the aisle from him wearing skinny jeans and a dark gray linen blouse unbuttoned just enough to show off both the necklace she’d chosen—which he hadn’t noticed other than to acknowledge it existed—and the top of her cleavage—which he tried not to stare at.

Shortly into the flight she’d opened her Kindle and had been reading ever since, leaving him with his stupid fantasies and inflating erection.

Using his phone, he pulled up the internet. Maybe reading dry, unsexy financial news would distract him. Opening Bloomberg business news, he settled in to read the headlines.

Allison crossed her legs and bounced her foot in the aisle between them. He watched from the corner of his eye. She’d removed her shoes, and he clenched his jaw at the sight of her pretty foot. Smooth skin, perfect toes, pink polish. He had a sudden urge to suck on her toes.

Jesus. He needed to get a grip. Her fucking foot, of all things, had him turned on. He was not a foot man.

He put his phone down and closed his eyes. Maybe a nap would shut down his sex drive.

That could be his problem. As simple as that. He tried to remember the last time he’d had sex, and couldn’t. He’d been too damn busy taking over the company. So, it had just been too long, and he needed to get laid.

Seemed simple enough. He’d spent a week working with Allison who was, admittedly, a beautiful woman and now they were headed to a resort where they’d pretend to be a couple. He just had a lot of pent up sexual energy.

He’d have to suck it up and focus on business and when he got back to Houston he’d find a woman and fuck himself dry.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Sitting in one place was making him crazy. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood.

“Would you like a drink?” He stepped out into the aisle.

She looked up at him, those blue eyes full of teasing. He wondered what it would be like to have her on her knees in front of him looking up at him like that. His cock jumped at the idea, and he shifted to hide the damn thing from her eye-level sight.

“You’re going to serve me?” she asked. “Don’t you have people for that?”

“I think I can manage to pour a drink.”

“If you say so. I’ll just have some ice water, please.”

“You’re a cheap date.”

She laughed, just a couple of small exhalations of air that sounded like a private joke between them. “I don’t drink when I fly. It usually makes me sick.”

“Fair enough.”

At the bar in the back of the cabin, he found a cold bottle of water in the fridge, and poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey. He tossed it back and poured another.

When he turned around to head back, he slammed right into Allison, sloshing his drink all over her.

She made an inarticulate sound of surprise.

He said, “Shit.”

They both said, “sorry” at the same time.

“What are you sorry about?” He asked. “I spilled on you.”

“I’m sorry I ran into you,” she said.

She hadn’t exactly run into him. She’d just been there when he turned. “What’re you doing back here anyway?”

“I wanted to stretch my legs, so I thought I’d help.”

A large wet spot soaked from the middle of her chest down to her belly.

She pinched a bit of the fabric and pulled it away from her skin, flapping it as if that little bit of movement would dry it. He caught a glimpse of the pink lace of her bra and his cock responded accordingly. He growled in frustration.

“Excuse me?” she asked, a look of concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You need to get out of that wet shirt.”

One of her finely plucked brows went up, along with the corner of her mouth. “Oh really?”

“You know what I meant. Our luggage is in the back. You can find a dry shirt to change into. We should be getting close soon, so hurry up.”

Allison watched as a grumpy Hunter slunk back toward the front of the plane and threw himself into his seat. The view from behind him was fine, indeed. Mmm-hmm. The man had a sinfully beautiful ass.

The last week had been awful. Work had been a collection of awkward silences, stilted conversations, and summoning of willpower. Somehow she found the strength not to gawk or devolve into fits of girlish giggling as a means to relieve the tension. When Friday came, she left the office, proud she’d got through the week without throwing herself at her boss.

Climbing into a limo with him this morning had required nerves of steel. Climbing aboard the private jet, knowing they headed for a resort that specialized in romantic couples’ getaways had her all kinds of messed up. Facing a three-day weekend together sharing a hotel suite in a beautiful paradise was like asking an alcoholic to work as a bartender. She clung to the hope she’d survive without humiliating herself, but given how badly she wanted to touch him, she had her doubts. One touch would be like one drink for that alcoholic, or like trying to eat just one potato chip—a near impossibility.

She found her luggage in the back of the plane. Unzipping it, she reached in and grabbed the first shirt she could find, a short-sleeved, scoop-neck purple tee.

She peeked back into the passenger cabin. Hunter faced forward. Rather than squeezing into the little toilet compartment, she unbuttoned the wet blouse and peeled it off. She wadded it up and used it to dry the skin of her belly, then pulled the purple tee over her head.

When she turned to head back she stopped in her tracks when she found Hunter standing near the bar, staring at her with those intensely blue eyes. From the look on his face he’d been there long enough to see her strip and dress. It had been a long time since she’d seen that look, but she thought she recognized it as lust.

A shiver of excitement wiggled from her belly to parts further south.

His face fell back into surliness, and he moved toward the bar—but not before she noticed the bulge in his slacks.

Good lord. The sexual tension was so thick she practically had to shovel her way through it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked while pouring himself another drink.

“Changing, like you suggested.” She joined him at the bar, stepping just inside his personal space, because aggravating the situation was always the best thing to do. She did a mental eye roll, yet still maintained her position. He stood his ground, but clenched his jaw tight enough for the muscles to bulge. She wondered if she took one step closer, would she feel his erection poke her.

Boldness flooded her veins—foolishness, really—but it made her brave enough to hold his gaze while reaching for the shot glass in his hand, then tossing it back and swallowing it down.

The look in his eyes hovered somewhere between fascination and horror. She bit her lip to keep from smiling, then leaned in to reach around him and place the glass on the counter.

His erection did, indeed, poke her just below her navel, and it took no small amount of willpower for her not to reach down and rub it.

The pilot’s voice on the intercom saved her from doing something really stupid.

“We’re beginning our descent. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”

She hurried to her seat, hoping she could find a way to keep her hands to herself for the next few days, and avoid poking the impressively endowed bear.

Hunter managed to get his libido under control by thinking about how much it pissed him off that Allison would flirt with him so brazenly. He was her boss, they were on a business trip, and she was way out of line. He could even call it harassment—if he hadn’t liked it. The only difference was she’d done it before he had.

But trying to fool himself into being offended by her boldness had only deflated him to a semi-turgid state. He fucking needed a cold shower. Probably at least one a day for the next three days.

The plane landed and they piled themselves and their luggage into a limo to head for the resort. He waited for Allison to take her seat, then he sat across from her—as far away as possible.

Hunter discovered, though, that sitting across from Allison forced him to look at her, which meant he ended up focused on her more than he wanted to be. She, in turn, watched the scenery out the window like a kid on the way to Disneyland, watching for the first glimpse of the magic castle. She practically bounced in her seat. His view—of her—was both better, and more torture.

“So, Allison,” he said. “Did you have a chance to study the prospectus I sent you about the resort?”

If he could focus on business instead of her breasts, or the smooth skin of her face, or the way wisps of hair escaped from her messy bun and framed her face, maybe he could stem the lust.

She looked at him and blinked, trying to get her bearings. “Sure. Why?”

“I want to be sure you’re prepared for the weekend.”

She rolled her eyes and looked out the window again. “I’m ready, Hunter. Don’t worry about it.”

He bristled that she’d brush him off so easily. “Worrying about it, as you put it, is what makes for a successful multi-billion-dollar company.”

She shot him a sour look. “Well then, go ahead and worry about it. You’re the
billionaire
, so I guess that’s your job. I don’t need that kind of pressure. I read the prospectus, I know what I need to know, and beyond that I’ll go in with my eyes and ears open and learn what I need to learn.”

He huffed a mocking laugh. “That’s a pretty casual attitude for someone who wants to be a corporate attorney.”

“How do you know I want to be a corporate attorney?”

“You have a JD degree, you passed the bar. You mentioned it in your interview.”

“You read my HR file?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I need to know who I’m working with.”

“Fine. To address your original question, I don’t find worrying to be terribly productive. I find that intelligence, information, and common sense are more useful, at least as an attorney. I’ve never been the CEO of a
multi-billion-dollar corporation
so I suppose I couldn’t speak to that.”

Her eyes twinkled with sarcasm, which got his hackles up. She mocked him, and his company’s worth. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and although his father had built the company from the ground up, Hunter had been with the company since he finished his undergrad degree and started his MBA. He had the skills and drive to take it and grow it into something even bigger. The American Dream was all about the kind of success he and his father had created. His company supported hundreds of people with generous salaries and benefits, and still made huge profits for the board and stockholders. He was damn proud of it.

On the other hand, she obviously didn’t give a shit about his money, which hit him like a breath of fresh air. How many women had he dated whose only interest was in his net worth rather than in him? Not that he was looking for anything serious or long term. But if he was, he’d want a woman who wanted him, not his bank account. Or at least wanted him before his bank account.

“I care about the company and its success. That’s worth worrying about,” he said. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t get it.

She glanced at him and shrugged. “All I’m saying is, there’s more to life than the bottom line.”

He snorted. “The bottom line
is
life, sweetheart.”