Kat Cantrell - Playing Mr. Right

Instantly, he realized his mistake.

Laurel’s presence filled the room, blanketing him with that otherworldly, mystical nonsense that he couldn’t think through.

“What the hell was all that about?” he demanded and couldn’t find a shred of remorse at how rough it came out. “You shuffled off all your duties to Adelaide—without asking, by the way. What, exactly, are you going to be doing?”

“Helping you, of course.” She patted his arm and the contact sang through his flesh clear to the bone. “We have a fundraiser to organize. Which I’m pretty sure is what I just said.”

The trap had been laid so neatly that he still hadn’t quite registered whether the teeth had closed around his ankle or not. “You don’t have enough experience fundraising.”

She shrugged. “I do have some . What’s your hang-up about experience? Adelaide doesn’t have any experience.” She accompanied that statement with air quotes. “But she’s been learning on the job for years by following Marjorie around. She’ll do great.”

“Running a charity takes an iron fist,” he shot back instantly. “Not an owl face and a lot of head nodding.”

Laurel just laughed. “Owl face? Better not let her hear that. Women who wear glasses don’t take kindly to name-calling.”

“I didn’t mean—” The headache brewing behind his eyes spread to his temples. “I called her an owl because she just stands there and looks wise. Instead of telling people what to do. I—Never mind.”

Laurel Dixon had officially driven him around the bend. And now Adelaide had just been given a promotion that she seemed super pleased with. He couldn’t take it away, though likely he’d have to spend a lot of time following her around to make sure she didn’t drive operations into the ground. Hiring Laurel had been one thing, because at least he could blame that on Val if it didn’t work out, but this was a whole other mess.

One he had no graceful way of undoing without upsetting the admin. Or Laurel, who might do God knew what as her next trick.

“Okay. Fine,” he ground out. “Adelaide is Marjorie. She’s going to be great. You’re going to help with fundraising. Are you going to be great, too?”

“Of course.”

She flipped a lock of hair over her shoulder again, and he couldn’t help but wonder why she wore it down when her hands were constantly fiddling with it. She should wear it up. Then he wouldn’t be tempted to put his own hands through it just to see if it felt as satiny and lush as it looked.

He crossed his arms. No point in tempting fate. “Fantastic. What’s the plan, General?”

“Nicknames already?” Her long eyelashes swept her cheeks as she treated him to a very long, pointed once-over that lingered in inappropriate places. “I thought that wouldn’t happen until much later in our association. Under...different circumstances.”

In bed, she meant. The implication was clear. And he definitely shouldn’t be feeling the spark of her suggestion in those inappropriate places. “It fit. Can’t help it.”

“Don’t worry. I like it.” The atmosphere in the office got a whole lot heavier as she stared at him. “And I like that you’ve already clued in that I don’t sit around and wait for things to happen to me.”

“I knew that a half second after Adelaide told me you were here for an interview that I hadn’t arranged,” he told her bluntly. “You’re an easy read.”

Something flitted through her gaze. A shadow. He couldn’t put his finger on what she had going on beneath the surface, but that gut-deep feeling told him again she had something to hide.

How many secrets might she spill if he did take her into his bed?

Once that thought formed, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wasn’t like that, not normally. But Laurel had barreled right through what he’d call his normal and redefined everything. Maybe he needed to return the favor.

“I’m pretty transparent,” she agreed readily, but another layer dropped into place over her expression.

She was a terrible liar. Or perhaps he was just incredibly tuned in to her, which didn’t seem to have a downside. Other than the one where he’d just been boxed into a corner and had no graceful way to avoid spending a lot of time in her company.

“I probably see more than you’d like,” he told her, and she blinked. This was a fun game. “For example, I’m pretty sure that you just maneuvered yourself into a position as my fundraising assistant because you can’t stay away from me.”

He didn’t believe that for a second, but he definitely wanted to hear what she’d say to counter it.

Her eyebrows inched up toward her hairline and she relaxed an iota. “Well, that’s a provocative statement. What if I said it’s true?”

Then she’d be lying again. She had a whole other agenda, one he hadn’t figured out yet, but if she wanted to work it like the attraction between them got top billing, he could play along. “I’d say we have a problem, then. We can’t get involved. It would be too...sticky.”

Her lips curved at his choice of words, as intended. “That’s a shame. I’m a fan of sticky.”

“Stickiness is for candy.” All at once, a very distinct image sprang into his head of her on his desk naked with a caramel melting on her tongue. His whole body went stiff. “I like it best when things are uncomplicated.”

At that, she snorted, moving in to lay a hand on his arm in the exact opposite of what this back-off conversation had been intended to convey. He’d wanted to catch her off guard but so far she’d held her own.

Reluctant admiration for this woman warred with bone-deep desire and flat-out irritation.

“Please,” she muttered with a sarcastic grin as she squeezed his forearm. “You’re the least uncomplicated man I’ve ever met. At least do me the courtesy of being honest about the fact that you’re not attracted to me, if that’s what’s going on.”

Oh, nicely played. She’d put the ball firmly in his court. He could take the out and claim he didn’t feel the heavy arousal that she could almost assuredly see for herself, giving her the opportunity to call him out as a liar. Or he could admit that she made him hotter than asphalt in a heat wave and call a truce.

He went with option three: ensuring she fully understood he didn’t dance to her tune.

“I don’t think honesty is on the table here. Do you?”

The atmosphere splintered as she stiffened, but to her credit, she kept a smile on her face. “Touché. We’ll go back to ignoring the chemistry, then.”

“That’s best.” And not at all what he’d been talking about, but he also hadn’t expected her to voluntarily blurt out her secrets. All in good time. “Now, about this fundraiser...”

“Oh, right.” Her hand dropped away from his arm—finally—and she got a contemplative look as if she really had given away her job with the intent of diving into his hell with gusto. “We should attend someone else’s fundraiser and take notes.”

“That’s—” he blinked “—a really good idea.”

One he should have thought of. That’s what he’d do in the diamond trenches. If another jewelry outlet had a strategy he liked, he’d study it. Why not apply the same to charity?

Laurel smiled, putting some sparkle in her silver-gray eyes. “I’ll start researching some possibilities and then we’ll take a field trip.”

Fantastic. If he couldn’t stay away from Laurel, then he’d settle for spending as much time in her company as he could until he figured out her agenda. If it was merely to indulge in their impossible-to-ignore chemistry, then he might find a way to be on board with that, as long as he could protect what was his at the same time.