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CHAPTER TWO
Will
AT THE SOUND of hurried footsteps on the metal stairs of Granddad’s Learjet, I lift my eyes and say, “You’re late.”
“Excuse me?”
I take in the breathless woman glaring at me. Damn, if looks could kill...
I sit up a little straighter, fold the newspaper I’d been reading and carefully set it on my lap.
“I said, you’re late.”
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nbsp; One hand planted on her hip and one foot tapping restlessly, she says, “I do apologize,” her dark brown eyes flaring hot. “I’m usually punctual, but not only did I have little time to prepare for this trip, traffic was horrible, and my driver was a maniac. I’m lucky I made it here alive.”
“You didn’t use Granddad’s driver?”
“No. I left from home and didn’t see the need for him to backtrack to pick me up.”
I raise my brows. “That’s what his service is for.”
“I just didn’t want to put anyone out,” she says, and it surprises me, considering most temps love to ride in Granddad’s limo.
She rakes agitated fingers through a mess of wavy chestnut hair, her chest rising and falling as if she’s been running. Her tight yoga pants hug her curvy hips like a second skin, and the relaxed V-neck T-shirt she’s wearing showcases an abundance of creamy cleavage. Something inside me twitches at the sexy sight and reminds me I haven’t been with a woman in far too long.
Nevertheless, despite the fact that the mere sight of this woman rouses something primal in me—reminds me I’m a man with needs—I’m not about to get involved with her. My traitorous dick might be showing interest, but I never mix business and pleasure. It’s one of my many hard rules. After the exposé done on me, I don’t let anyone get too close. Which means, while I can acknowledge my desire for her, I’m not about to act on it.
“I thought I’d be taking this trip solo until Grandfather called and said he found someone suitable last-minute.”
“Yes,” she says, her breasts jutting out a little more as she squares her shoulders. “I’m Khloe.”
“Khloe,” I say, trying the name out on my tongue. “Have you signed the nondisclosure agreement, Khloe?”
Her eyes drop to my mouth when I repeat her name. Is she, too, wondering how it would sound on my lips if she were in my bed, beneath me?
Cool it, Will. She’s an employee, and that makes her hands-off.
“Yes, at James’s house,” she says quickly. “He has a copy. We both do.” She taps the big bag slung over her slender shoulders.
I eye her for a moment, and with a lift of her chin, she stares back unflinchingly. There’s no denying that she’s different from the women who normally travel as my assistant. Most don’t look me in the eye, and are all fidgety and nervous around me. It’s rather irritating. This woman, however, has a confidence about her and doesn’t look like she’d put up with any kind of bullshit, especially from me. Which begs the question—why did Granddad hire her? It’s not that I’m a complete asshole, although I’ve been called that and worse a time or two. It’s just that I’m careful and private, a guy who likes things done in a certain way, and most importantly, a guy who trusts no one.
“I don’t tolerate tardiness, and I certainly expect my employees to dress in a certain way. There are rules.”
Her teeth clench with an audible click, and I can almost hear her brain spinning as a violent streak of pink colors her cheeks. If I had to guess, she’s about to tell me where to shove my rules. Either that or she’s contemplating which foot to use to kick me in the nuts. It’s rather odd how I find her reactions amusing. But I can’t give that any more consideration. No, not when she’s smoothing her hand over her mess of hair and arousing my dick all over again.
“I’m well aware you have rules, and while your grandfather mentioned that you expect those in your employment to dress a certain way, I assumed for travel...” She pauses and runs her hands down the length of her body, and my eyes follow in appreciation. “I assumed that this would be more comfortable for the long flight.” She takes a breath, lets it out slowly, and I grin as she works fervently to tamp down a flash of temper. I’m pretty good at reading people, and my gut tells me those weren’t the words she wanted to throw my way. This woman is becoming more intriguing by the moment. “When we reach our destination, I’ll be sure to dress appropriately.”
“Very well. You should settle yourself in for takeoff, and once we’re in the air, I’d like a brandy.”
Her head rears back at my request, and instead of sitting, she stares at me, mouth dropped open, like I’ve grown a second head.
“Wait, what?” she asks, then glances around the private jet.
I’m not sure who or what she’s looking for, but her attention returns to me when I say, “A brandy. Is that a problem?”
“No... I just...”
