Page 33 of The Wrong Boss

“I don’t remember you being this grim when we first met.”

She twitched, as if any reminder of our previous encounter was a sore spot. I scowled, not liking that. Not liking it at all. But Carrie straightened and shot me one of her smirks and sideways glances. “Are we going there, then?”

Before I could answer, the elevator doors opened, and my hand found its way to her back again. I could feel the strap of her bra beneath the thin fabric of her blouse, and I cursed myself for noticing. As soon as we were out of the elevator, I dropped my hand.

Carrie was attractive. I could admit that to myself without betraying the promises I’d made to Alba, couldn’t I? I could notice the way her smile lit her eyes, could watch the way herhips swayed with every step. I was a man, after all, and I wasn’t blind.

“This way,” I said, leading her out the lobby doors and into the waiting car. My regular driver nodded as we entered the vehicle, closed the door once we were inside, then circled around to the driver’s side. The privacy screen was up, and the back of the car felt close and intimate with Carrie so near. I could smell the sweet scent of her, mingled with the leather of the seats.

She clipped herself in and folded her hands on her lap, as prim and proper as I knew she wasn’t. Her gaze was glued to the tinted window beside her, and I caught myself staring at the line of her neck, the delicate golden chain dangling between her collarbones, the way a tendril of hair had escaped her bun.

I couldn’t work with her. The realization hit me like a truck. I couldn’t spend my days in my office above her and not find myself standing at her desk just to catch a glimpse of the light in her eyes. It would be unbearable to be in the same building as her and know that I couldn’t have her.

I felt like a desperate, hungry animal who’d just caught the scent of the hunt. It was a wild song in my blood, a calling that drew my gaze to her, made my fingers itch with the need to touch and claim her.

And I hated myself for it.

She wasn’t mine. I’d already made my choice, and I wasn’t a man who betrayed his promises. I’d already been betrayed and lied to too many times in my life, and I’d never be someone who did that to others. I wouldn’t do it to Alba, or my father, or anyone else.

That meant Carrie couldn’t work for me—it was a simple calculus with a clear answer. So why did it make me feel sick at the thought of saying it out loud? I didn’t evenknowher.

The car started moving, slipping smoothly into the flow of traffic, and Carrie inhaled, braced herself, and turned to face me. “Should we talk about it?”

“‘It?’” I repeated.

A flush ruddied her cheeks, and an answering rush of warmth went through my gut. I liked that look on her. Carrie kneaded her hands together and threw me one of the insolent glares I discovered I still enjoyed. “Should we talk about the fact that we’ve met before?” she clarified.

“Did a bit more than meet, don’t you think?”

“You’re dodging the questions.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Nice to see you haven’t changed,” she quipped, arching a brow.

Her words caused a full-bodied reaction inside me that I desperately tried to hide. My cock went hard in an instant, throbbing against the placket of my pants as I shifted in my seat. My pulse began to thump, and my fingers tingled with the rush of my blood. She’d enjoyed that game as much as I had, all those years ago. Enjoyed me teasing her until she begged.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed it too. The memory had sustained me for a long, long time. I’d thought of her voice when she gave in to me every time I took myself in hand for years, until it was almost pathological. Until I knew I had to stop or drive myself mad.

Now she was here, and for a million and one reasons, I couldn’t have her.

Clenching my jaw, I looked out the window. “I’m guessing by your reaction in my office that you didn’t know who ran the company when you accepted the job.”

“Actually, fainting when I come face-to-face with my boss is a somewhat regular occurrence.”

Glancing over at her, I caught the impish light in her eyes as she bit her bottom lip. “Is it?” I drawled.

“Yes. No need to feel flattered about my reaction to you.”

I snorted.

After a short, tense pause, where I tried to get my body back under control and ignore the press of her presence beside me, Carrie said, “Is this a problem for you? The fact that we have—history.”

Glancing over, I saw her watching me. She still had that incisive, all-seeing gaze, the one that had me spilling my secrets at a hotel bar within an hour of meeting her. The one that saw through to the core of me and led to me telling her about my adoption, my conflict with finding my birth family. If she hadn’t looked at me then just as she was now, I’m not sure I would’ve had the courage to contact my father. I wouldn’t have met his business partner. Wouldn’t have accepted the position at his company and worked my way to the top. Wouldn’t be engaged to Alba.

I owed Carrie all of that, because she’d seen me and challenged me when I needed it.

Maybe that’s why I said the opposite of what I knew to be the responsible choice. I heard myself respond before my braincaught up. “Our history isn’t a problem,” I said. “You impressed me this morning with the travel arrangements.”

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