“You don’t have Blink on your phone. How can you possibly work for me if you don’t have the app and know what it’s all about?”
* * *
Kade eyed his personal assistant with frustration, which was a helpful emotion, serving to tamp down on the desire that had been riding him since he’d opened his door and seen her gaze raking over him appreciatively. She’d changed her top, and though her work outfits were completely appropriate, his imagination went into overdrive thanks to the fancy buttons holding her shirt closed over her full breasts and the same skirt from earlier, which accentuated her rounded hips.
He was annoyed that he’d caught her with his photographs and pressing for information about his family. Information that dug at him like an open wound.
He hadn’t seen Jeffrey in over twenty years, their parents’ ugly divorce and subsequent division of custody making sure the adults—and boys who were as close as could be—ended up living on different continents. With one stroke of the pen, Kade had lost the mother who’d given birth to him and his best friend.
Looking back, his mother hadn’t been such a loss. She’d always favored Jeffrey, the easier child, while Kade, with his colic, undiagnosed learning disabilities, which he now knew were ADHD and anxiety, had been challenging from birth. Not to mention what he thought was mild OCD. All of which his mother had never let him forget, and which had provided a lesson he’d taken into adulthood with his relationships.
He’d had difficulties in school, problems making friends, and his mother had no patience or desire to find out why. She called him stupid and annoying, a pain, saving her affection for Jeffrey. Yet somehow, Kade hadn’t resented his younger brother. He’d looked up to him for being all the things Kade couldn’t manage to be.
And one day he was gone. Madeline Barnes had taken off, choosing to move far away and cut off contact rather than share custody. Kade hadn’t been good enough for his own mother. He was never quite good enough. His difficulties had followed him into adulthood, and he didn’t think any woman would put up with him for long. And the ones in his life hadn’t. They’d grown impatient with his quirks; some were embarrassed, causing him to pull further into himself.
He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. He didn’t appreciate the unpleasant memories Lexie had dredged up, but instead of true anger, he found himself surprised she’d been interested. When most people wouldn’t have looked that closely at pictures of his childhood or wondered anything about him beyond his bank account, she’d seemed honestly curious.
And he wondered about her in return. He wasn’t a typically social person, and his inquisitiveness about her made him uncomfortable. He needed to put a wall back between them and fast. Which was why he held Lexie’s cell phone in his hand, searching for his pride and joy, only to find his app was nowhere to be found.
He stared at her, waiting for an explanation to his question.
“I-I’m not big on social media,” she stammered, the first sign that he’d rattled her. “But you’re right. It was a stupid oversight, and I’ll correct it right now.” She grasped back her phone, and with trembling hands, she hit the button for the app store and downloaded Blink in seconds.
He waited in silence as she opened it and created an account. “I’ll be sure to learn it later today.”
“Good idea.” He gestured for her to sit down, and she lowered herself into one of the sections of the sofa. He loved the oversized white leather and the electric recliners in each part. Not to mention the built-in fridge where he kept Smartwater and vitamin drinks.
She fidgeted in her seat. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her long legs that he could envision up in the air, settled on his shoulders, as he lowered his head to her sweet pussy. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He hadn’t meant to speak out loud. “Not a damned thing. I thought maybe we could see how you perform in my world.” He picked up a remote and spoke. “Television on.” The ninety-inch flat-screen on the wall flickered to life. “Mario Party,” he said, reveling in the surprise on her face as he loaded his Wii U.
“You want us to play video games?” Her blue eyes opened wide.
“I do.”
“Mario? Seriously?” she asked, clearly not convinced.
“Yes.”
She studied his face as if she didn’t believe him or was waiting for him to crack a smile. She’d have to wait all night, and he was damned patient. When she didn’t reply, he handed her a controller and picked up one of his own.
“You are serious. Did you make all of your other PAs go through this … test?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because he didn’t care if his other PAs could hold their own with him. She’d already proven she wasn’t intimidated by him, a point in her favor. “Consider yourself special.”
In the span of the one hour total he’d spent in her company, he’d realized he wanted to see what made her tick. She didn’t seem to fear him, and he liked that about her. He had a hunch he could enjoy her company—if he let himself. Not to mention, his cock really liked having her around, and it’d been a damned long time since he’d had sex.
Too long. Because he didn’t trust women to get close. Lexie was already there.
Pushing that thought aside, he offered her a soda, which she declined.