“That’s not very hygienic,” Devon pointed out.
“I’ll be sure to use antibacterial detergent when I wipe the counters down,” she assured him, lips twitching as he carried on frowning.
“Relax, Devon,” Sean told him, as he came to stand beside her. He crossed his feet at the ankle, as he leaned back into the counter.
His proximity did things to her. Dangerous things.
Heck, they were all doing dangerous things to her, without even trying.
“This is very good, Sascha. Thank you,” Kurt told her with a smile. The corners of his mouth were stained with chocolate, and she giggled at the sight.
“You’re welcome.” Their eyes clashed, held, and she swallowed; she felt as if she were drowning in those deep, dark-as-the-chocolate-he-was-drinking eyes.
His lashes fluttered down, bronzy colored wings that had her wondering why God gave men such lustrous eyelashes and left women with a mascara wand. The tiny act broke contact and she immediately stared down at her lap. Shoring her defenses, she asked, “Are any of you allergic to anything?”
“No. Only Sawyer and Devon are finicky about what they eat. I’m pre-diabetic, so I can’t have too much sugar.”
She squeaked at Sean’s admission. “I just put honey in the chocolate!”
He laughed a little. “I saw, and you hardly used any. It’s okay. I just have to watch my sugar intake, that’s all.”
Andrei grimaced. “We all should. We’re middle aged now.”
Devon huffed. “With the average life expectancy in this country at seventy-eight, we’re past mid-life.”
Sascha snorted—she couldn’t help it. Sean sighed a, ‘You see what I have to put up?’ sigh. She patted his shoulder in commiseration. “I’m sure that by the time you’re seventy-eight, the life expectancy will have increased.”
Devon pursed his lips. “This is a distinct possibility, especially considering our financial status. We’ll be able to afford the best healthcare unlike most citizens in the country.”
Andrei blinked and shook his head. “You do realize how gloomy this conversation is, don’t you?”
The mad hatter frowned. “Why is it? It’s factual.”
“Exactly. We don’t want to talk about facts. Facts are depressing,” Sawyer pointed out, then, he turned to Kurt and asked, “How’s the book coming along? From the state of your hair, not well, I’d say?”
Sean murmured, “Kurt’s writing a kind of expose on life behind the Berlin Wall.”
“You were an East German baby?” she asked, brows rising in surprise.
He nodded. “Just after. I’m not that old,” he replied, his tone teasing in the face of Devon’s earlier comments.
“Why are you having trouble with it?”
“It’s fact-based but it’s a fictional tale too. My characters aren’t…” He huffed, took a sip of chocolate. “They’re not behaving.”
“Do you want me to critique it?” Sean asked quietly.
“No. Not yet. I know you’re too busy.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Sascha inserted softly. “If you need me to sign, I don’t know, an NDA or something, I will. Gladly.”
Kurt tilted his head to the side. “That’s very kind of you, Sascha. Fresh eyes might help.”
“Only if they’re green as grass?” Sean retorted, but he was amused, she could tell. “That reminds me, Sascha. I have a few contracts I need you to look over and sign before the week’s up. It’s just an employment agreement. But there’s also an NDA, which would cover anything you read for Kurt. I’m afraid we all work on rather secretive branches of our field, and need those secrets to remain that.”
She nodded, well at ease with his statement. “Of course. I expected no less.” And she hadn’t. With Devon as blunt as he was, an NDA was the least they needed.
She could imagine him sharing the intricacies of his mathematical discoveries just for the sake of being able to discuss them with her, uncaring that he might reveal something that should remain private.
As they drank their chocolate, an ease overcame them all, and the early strains of tension that came from having someone new in the fold, disappeared as they chatted among themselves.
It felt right to be here with them. Comfortable.
She was relieved to note that they didn’t expect her to behave like a ghost. Whispering in and out of their interactions, expecting her to be silent in their presence. She spoke up when they broached a topic where she had something to share, and let her speak without interrupting as they processed her opinion.
When three of them headed back upstairs with effusive thanks for the chocolate, Devon and Sean lagged behind.
“There’s no need to be lonely in this house,” Devon told her with a beatific smile. “You can always come and visit any of us.”
She smiled. “That’s sweet of you to say, Devon. But I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“We can always tell you to go away,” came the earnest retort that had her snickering, because she could easily imagine him doing just that.
Sean pulled a face. “You’re hopeless sometimes, Devon.”
She shot him a grin, then surprised them both by stepping around the counter, reaching up onto tiptoe and kissing Devon, rather inappropriately, on the cheek. “Thank you, Devon. I appreciate that.”
He frowned. “You’re in a new place. A new home. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
He said it so bluntly that she knew to take him at face value. It wasn’t a suggestive remark, intended to enable him to seduce her at a later date. It was the truth.
She liked that. Liked him, in fact. He was sweet.
“I know where to come if I feel anything like that.”
He nodded, seemingly content with her response, then shot Sean a strange look. She wasn’t sure what passed between the two men, but it had Sean sighing and ducking his head. Devon headed upstairs, but Sean stayed leaning against the counter, his arms folded across his chest now.
“What was that about?” she asked softly. Her tone wasn’t proper. Not considering she’d known the man less than a day, and the fact he was her new employer. But somehow, the walls of propriety had disintegrated over a cup of hot chocolate and a sniping session among her new bosses.
“You don’t want to know,” he told her, equally as softly, his gaze trained rigidly on hers.
She couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips, and felt a thrill when his glance dropped down to watch the slow passage of her tongue. “I may not be a genius, but I’m infinitely curious,” she informed him softly.
He cleared his throat, then stunned her by murmuring, “You need to sign the NDA first.”
Three
She reared back at that, and he couldn’t exactly blame her.
Smooth, Sean. Real, real smooth.
Confusion hazed those emerald eyes, but she nodded slowly. “Sure. I’ll sign it now. I’m not sure what one has to do with the other though…”
He grimaced—she’d find out soon enough from Devon if he wasn’t careful, then said, “The papers are in my office.”
“Okay.”
Together, they traipsed up the stairs, down the hall, and to the back of the house where his study was located. He was, pathetically enough, excited about having her in his space.
Was he really about to make her sign the NDA so he could tell her something he’d already reprimanded Devon about?
But having seen her interact with Devon and the rest, as well as their response to her, hell, it was only a matter of time before something cropped up.
She was, to put it mildly, too hot to ignore.
There was no pushing this off, brushing it away. Attraction was attraction, and if they were adult about it, it needn’t be a problem.
Of course, the five of them had a unique way of viewing the world. Women, they’d all found to their detriment, didn’t see things the same way. But from how she’d responded to them, that had to bode well, didn’t it?
&
nbsp; He’d seen the definite reaction she’d had to them, and she hadn’t shied away from their attention on her. When she’d caught them checking out her arse, she hadn’t pretended to be peeved or called them chauvinist bastards. Instead, she’d smirked, made a joke of it.
The silence was killing him, but for the moment, it was the wisest option before he said something he might regret later.
The minute they entered his study, she inhaled sharply. “Wow, this place is so English.”
He laughed, unable to do anything less. “It’s in England. I’m not sure it could be more English.”
Her nose crinkled at the bridge. “You know what I mean.”
He grinned. “I do.” Waving a hand at one of the chairs in front of his desk, he said, “Take a seat.” He waited for her to sit, then headed for his own desk chair. When they were staring at each other across the expanse of his desk, he asked, “What do you think of the job so far, Sascha?”
She pursed her lips a second, then admitted, “I think I’ll be happy here.”
Relief unfurled through his churning stomach. How badly he wanted her to work for them stunned him. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“I wasn’t sure how you’d expect me to behave. Like old-fashioned servants or as a part of the family. I like that you don’t want me to bustle around you and hide.”
He frowned, horrified by the notion. His parents were like that; and even as a child, the stilted atmosphere had choked him. It was why he could relax here—they needed staff, didn’t have time to manage the day-to-day chores of running a house—but if things were formal, it would stifle the household. “Good God, what made you think we’d want that?”
“You’re English, and you’re rich.” She chuckled at his disgusted expression. “I worked for a Marchioness before you. Well, you’ve seen my resume, probably checked out what she had to say about me? I did my job, and did it well, but there was a level of formality that always set me on edge. I could never settle in there. I worked for her for two years, but as soon as I could leave, I did.”
“May I ask what made it so you had to stay there?”
She grimaced. “An ex. He lumped a lot of gambling debts on me. I didn’t realize he was using my credit cards until it was too late.”
“God, that’s bloody unfair.”
“I know. Tell me about it.” Her grin was rueful. “Now, I make sure to keep my credit cards tucked away where no one can find them.”
“Now I’m intrigued,” he teased. “Surely everything can be found if you look hard enough?”
Her lips twitched. “My secrets shall remain my own. Unless, you’ll sign an NDA too?”
He laughed, and it felt good. Really good to fling his head back and let the amusement flush through him.
She had a great sense of humor.
Another tick in the box.
She’d need it, with all five of them around. Even if they never went past an employer/employee relationship, humor was imperative.
Especially with Devon.
He had the unerring ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Rather like a facetious toddler who knew the dictionary back to back.
“Maybe one day I will just learn your hiding place,” he teased, eyes twinkling as he rustled through his papers, her words prompting him to seek out the non-disclosure agreement. He cleared his throat when he found it, and said, “It’s standard, but feel free to read it.”
When he passed it over to her, he let her read in silence. But he watched her, and she knew he watched her. A line of heat sparked between them, one that had his heart thumping and his blood thickening. He was suddenly aware of her every movement. The gentle rise and fall of her breasts which grew jerky in the prolonged silence; the gentle brush of her fingers as she flipped between documents. He watched her cross her legs, loved the whispering sound of her stocking-clad thighs brushing against the other.
Her eyes fluttered up to his every now and then, and within a very short space of time, she asked, “Do you have a pen?”
“You can’t have read that properly,” he chided, his voice as husky as hers.
“I’m a speed reader. I agree to everything detailed within the document.” She shrugged, but the verdant fire in her eyes belied her calm demeanor. “With Devon roaming around, it’s a wonder you don’t NDA the cleaning ladies.”
He grimaced, confessed, “We do. We didn’t until a few years ago, when we realized he was discussing higher order math with our Polish cleaner. She didn’t speak a word of English, mind, but that was more by luck than management.” He passed her a pen and watched as she signed on the dotted line. He’d admit, relief flowed at the sight—the protection that document afforded would be used up within the next few minutes. “He’s... well, his situation is strange. He takes on projects that can involve national security from time to time.”
Her eyes flared wide. “Did you have my background checked?”
He nodded, sensed her discomfort by the idea and inwardly winced. “Standard protocol, I’m afraid. You came up clean.”
“But you didn’t know about the debts?” She frowned, and he could tell, the blatant disregard for her privacy pissed her off.
“I don’t handle those checks, and I don’t get to read the reports. I just have to phone a number, tell them your name and details, and they deal with that side of things. A few days later, I got the all clear, and knew I could hire you. Officially.”
“But you hired me on the day,” she whispered, confused.
“I know.” He crinkled his nose. “A little premature, but we clicked, and I didn’t want to lose you.”
His words had her pupils dilating. He watched her throat as she swallowed. “Oh.”
He smiled. “Oh.” Reaching forward, he gathered the NDA documents, noted she’d initialed all the pages and had signed on the dotted line. Putting them back into their folder, he popped it into his desk drawer and continued, “Does the idea of having a background check freak you out?”
Her brow puckered. “Not now I understand why. Plus, it’s less discomforting to know my private life isn’t something you can read about in some report. When I moved over here, I got used to the various departments checking my background. Governments do what they have to do. But certain things, bosses should never know.” She sank back into the small club chair and tapped her nails against the armrest. “May I ask a question?”
“Sure. Ask away.”
“Why do you all live together?”
“Back in the day, gentleman’s clubs weren’t unusual. Nowadays, they are.”
“But this isn’t a club. And I know those kinds of places are still open. You’re probably members to one or another simply because of your status in society here.”
“You did some research on us.”
It was her turn to smile, and it was that of a cat toying with a mouse. He didn’t mind. If anything, her response was so felinely sensual he wished he had the right to kiss those smirking lips.
“I’d have been a fool not to, wouldn’t I?” she told him.
“True. Five men in a house with a single woman. Tongues would wag.”
“They still could.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gossip spreads, even when rumors stir about staff.”
He sighed, understanding where she was going with this. “You really did dig deep.”
“Not really. I found it by accident.”
“Janna James’s stupid article.” He huffed in disgust. Even saying the bitch’s name had the power to irritate him.
“How true was it?”
“That was a long time ago, Sascha,” he explained, then winced. What was there to explain? Hell, Devon wanted the same thing they’d had with Janna with Sascha!
And all that without having seen her or spoken to her.
He rubbed his chin, wondering what games the fates played to have stacked him with Devon Jerome in his world.
The man was irresponsible, utterly useless when it
came to the ordinary aspects of real life, but he was also brilliant, charming, witty, and possessed the biggest heart of anyone Sean knew.
How to explain all that?
How to make her understand that Devon needed them to be together; that in this environment, he flourished. Could fulfill his potential, and that potential was so much more than any of them could jeopardize by destabilizing the household.
But this unusual living situation wasn’t just for Devon. They all gained from it. Sean’s work was dark and deep. The mindfuck that was his caseload was tempered by his brothers. By their humor, their care.
Their presence had the power to jerk him away from the void that beckoned when he failed, when someone was killed on his watch…
No, Devon wasn’t the only vulnerable one of the lot of them. Nor was he the only one who flourished when they shared everything they had with one special woman.
“Devon collects people.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound creepy.”
His lips twitched. “It did actually. I didn’t mean in a serial-killer way.” And if anyone would know, it was him. He’d profiled enough. “Let me rephrase. He sees the world differently to most, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed.”
“I did. He’s quite funny.”
“Yes. Quite.” He blew out a breath. “The smallest things can be like a magnet to him. He’s attracted, beyond all reasonable doubt, and he fixates on it.”
“What does the ‘collecting people’ have to do with the obsession?”
“Well, one helps explain the other. But I didn’t say ‘obsession’, I said ‘fixation.’” His collar suddenly felt too tight, and he tugged at his tie, then damned it to hell, and pulled it over his head once the knot was loose enough to allow the move. “The collecting… it’s like friends. People are attracted to him and they flock to him because he’s innocent and amusing.
“He can’t lie. It’s impossible. You can ask him what planet is closest to the sun, and he won’t know, but if you want to know what a palindrome is, then he’s your guy. It’s… especially at college in our heyday, well, it was appealing to a lot of women. He had rather a following.
Hers To Keep: THE QUINTESSENCE COLLECTION I Page 4
