The Rules

by Becca Jameson

  She winked as she turned to head to the back room. I lifted my brows and glanced around the shop. I felt awkward, as though gazing at all this finery would somehow taint the abundant silks and laces.

  “Here we are,” the sweet, sugary voice spoke again at my back.

  I twisted to find her holding up a fancy bag, lifting it over the counter. “I hope it fits. Mr. Alexander has good taste.” She looked me up and down quickly. “Should be perfect.” She winked again and then giggled as she set the bag on the counter. “Have a fun night.”

  I almost died. I couldn’t even lift my hand to take the bag. It took me several seconds to register what she thought. And when I finally caught on, my mouth dried and my throat swelled. Not to mention the renewed flush racing up my neck. I’d flushed so many times in the last few days, I was going to get a permanent rash.

  “Oh, I—” I cut myself off. There wasn’t one thing I could say to make this situation any better. In fact, I was certain I could only make it worse. The best option was to take the bag, smile, and get the hell out of Justine’s. If that woman thought the lingerie in that bag was for me, so be it. Arguing with her would only make me look stranger, and I was already riding high on the idiot train for the day. No help needed.

  I have no idea how I made it out the door and back to my car, but I sat there trying to catch my breath for several minutes before I lifted the list again. Perhaps it would have been better to peruse the entire thing first. But at this point, I was afraid for my heart and my sanity. One item at a time. That would be my motto. No matter how mortifying it got, I would live through this day.

  No one ever needed to know how I spent this particular Monday. Not Cheyenne. Not Meagan. Not Moriah or Judy. I would take this humiliation to the grave with me.

  The bag from Justine’s sat on the passenger seat mocking me. I hadn’t looked inside, but I did know it wouldn’t do any good. I could tell by the shape that whatever was in the bag was also inside a box. Thank the Lord.

  The trip to the florist for white roses wasn’t bad. Everyone liked to put flowers on their table, right? And the next stop I chose to put out of my head. By then I was becoming numb. Who cared if Mr. Alexander wanted to buy his girlfriend jewelry? I walked right up to the counter, told the clerk I was there to pick up a package for Mr. Alexander and then waited, not glancing around at a single item in the store this time.

  I was way over my head with this one. If I thought the lingerie store was out of my league, it was nothing compared to Smith and Klein’s. This was beyond my dreams.

  Thank God the employee didn’t hand me a ring-sized box. If he had, I might have exploded. By then I was beginning to think Mr. Alexander was not only having a simple date that night, but that he was about to propose. Who sent a peon from the first floor to pick up everything needed for a proposal? Not any man in his right mind. And certainly not a man I would ever consider dating.

  If I suspected my boyfriend had sent another woman to buy things for me, I would kick his ass to the curb before he opened the door. My respect for Mr. Cade Alexander had shifted from high, to medium, and then low in the last few hours.

  As I slid back into the car, I would find a new low—something much lower than the jewelry was about to rock my world.

  The last thing on the list.

  I’d noticed there was only one more line. I’d been elated to think this was coming to an end. Ecstatic. The thought of grabbing a late lunch and going back to the office had actually made entering that jeweler almost palatable. And then I could drag myself through the rest of the day and get the hell out of Alexander Technologies.

  I intended to go straight home, lick my wounds, and open the want ads. There were plenty of other companies hiring people with my qualifications. I didn’t need to endure this sort of abuse. It was demeaning and made my blood boil. And if it happened this one time, it would happen again. Hell, I’d even done the job well. That meant my boss was likely to decide I was his fucking go-to girl, and before I knew it, I’d find myself standing inside his bedroom holding his robe and slippers while he fucked his girlfriend.

  Nope. This was not the life I signed on for. And I wouldn’t lower myself to this level.

  Except I’d made a commitment, and I also wasn’t the type of girl to turn tail and run when the going got tough. So, I had to finish this day, see this through. Today and the next two weeks in my notice when I gave it.

  But this last item on the list was so far-fetched, I hesitated.

  Gifts by Julia.

  I was familiar with Gifts by Julia. Everyone was. The name of the store was simply a pseudonym for a high-end sex shop.

  Again, I was not a prude, but I also hadn’t ever been to a sex shop. Nor had I intended to enter one anytime soon. So, the thought of making this last stop made my stomach roil.

  Cade Alexander was an asshole. It was confirmed. Whoever he was fucking later tonight in a luxurious candlelit dinner with roses and jewelry and lingerie and prawns and goddamn fuzzy handcuffs could have him. I had lost my interest.

  I turned my mind off as I made my way through the outskirts of Atlanta until I arrived at my last destination. I held my head high, although glancing around to make sure no one saw me, and entered the store without allowing myself to consider the implications of this stop. I prayed like the other places I’d been, the clerk would hand me a bag and I would never be remotely privy to the contents.

  Luckily there were no patrons at that particular hour, and the man working the counter looked up and did the hard work for me. “You here for Mr. Alexander?”

  Shocked and relieved, I nodded my head.

  The guy handed me a black bag with a grin. He waggled his eyebrows in a way that did not even make me flinch anymore. And when he said “enjoy” as I left the store without uttering a word, I did so without vomiting all over his floor.

  Yep. Cade Alexander was a dick. A complete asshole of the largest variety known to man. And now I had to drive to his house and deposit the implements of his sickness inside. I would have to go to his kitchen and put several items in the refrigerator.

  I would not, however, breathe while I was inside. I no longer had any interest in knowing what his world smelled like. I would not allow myself to glance anywhere unnecessary. My absurd infatuation with Cade Alexander was over. Done. Complete.

  And after I gave my two weeks’ notice, I would also kindly turn down any requests that came from the seventh floor. If Moriah or any other employee wanted to utilize my services for the next two weeks, so be it. But I wasn’t about to face the owner of Alexander Technologies ever again.

  Chapter Three

  What I did not expect, because it never once the entire day occurred to me, was that Cade Alexander would actually be in his home when I arrived. Even more to my shock was the fact that he was the one to open the front door when I knocked.

  I wasn’t at all sure who was going to be home at the time, but I assumed some cleaning crew or a maid or a butler or even a dog sitter. Not Mr. Alexander himself.

  I stood frozen in my spot outside his front door, my hands laden with his sick gatherings. The fact that I’d insisted on making only one trip from the car was utter insanity. And now I stood burdened by his wares, speechless and angrier than I could ever remember feeling.

  Mr. Alexander smiled. The asshole actually smiled. “You’re fast. I thought it would take you longer than that.”

  I made no comment while he flung the door wider, grabbed the cooler from my arms and several bags that were hanging from my fingers, and turned to pad deeper into his home. “Come on. Follow me.”

  I found my voice fast. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll just leave these things and be going. I still have a lot to do at work this afternoon.” I leaned into his house far enough to deposit the rest of the assortment of bags, careful to set the ones containing seventy-five dollar bottles of wine gently on the hardwood floor.

  “Amelia,” he called from deeper inside. “Follow me.
”

  I righted myself and peered into the house at nothing but his large foyer. Mr. Alexander had disappeared. The last thing I wanted to do was enter his home. Now or ever.

  But he’d practically commanded it. And now he was nowhere to argue with. If I simply shut the front door and left, I would probably piss him off.

  Not that I could possibly piss him off more than he had me.

  I waited, hoping he would return when I didn’t heed his demand to follow.

  Burned into my brain was a new image now, one I could have done without. Cade Alexander owned more than suits and ties. The man had opened the door in low-hanging faded jeans that hugged his hips perfectly. Designer jeans, but still. And the T-shirt he had on was also made for his body. It pulled tight across his pecs in a way that made my mouth water in spite of my anger. Damn him. And the worst part—his feet were bare.

  No. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was his fucking awesome ass I’d had the privilege of watching as he left me in the doorway.

  Now I did moan. Still he didn’t return. He also didn’t yell for me to heel like a puppy again. Something about the way he’d invited me in hadn’t sounded at all like an invitation. It had sounded like a demand.

  I suspected he was used to getting his way. Naturally, otherwise why would I have spent the morning and half the afternoon running all over town buying things for his lazy ass because he was too uppity to purchase his own shit for his own fucking girlfriend?

  Taking a deep breath, and having absolutely no alternative option, I reluctantly entered Mr. Alexander’s home and shut the door. I picked up the bags I’d carefully set on the floor and proceeded across the foyer.

  When I stepped into my boss’s kitchen, my heart stopped.

  I was no gourmet cook, not even close. I hadn’t had enough time in the last six years to properly learn to cook much of anything. But I did appreciate a fine kitchen when I saw one.

  This kitchen was on a level I’d never contemplated except perhaps on reality TV shows. Everything was stainless steel or white. The granite counter was a swirl of grays and whites. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling above a center island at least eight people could comfortably sit around for a meal. The floor was gray tile that bumped up against white cabinets.

  Hell, the refrigerator was so wide, I wondered what one man needed with that much cold space.

  When Mr. Alexander opened the door to set the groceries inside, I discovered one man didn’t actually need that space at all. It was almost empty. Which answered my next question. Did my boss live here alone? Apparently so because I couldn’t think of anyone I knew who would live off as little food as he had in stock.

  If I hadn’t arrived with the fixings for tonight’s dinner, I assume any occupant would have starved or ordered pizza.

  “Sit, Amelia,” Mr. Alexander ordered, nodding at one of the many stools spaced around three sides of his island. I stared at the chairs, wondering how they would ever be spaced so perfectly again after I moved one of them. The house looked more like a display home than someplace a person lived.

  “I really should get back to the office, sir.” Please let me leave.

  I was concerned about breathing any more of his air than strictly necessary. Images burned themselves in my head faster than my brain could take the snapshots. Forget the kitchen and its accoutrements. The man currently bent over with his head inside the fridge was enough to keep me up late for more nights than I wanted to ponder.

  His ass was the finest I’d ever drooled over. I shook my head to erase the image and looked away. I was supposed to be pissed.

  Hell, I was pissed. Freakishly annoyed with this man.

  When he turned around, I had not yet moved from my spot. In fact, I still held the final bags I’d carried into the kitchen.

  Mr. Alexander smirked and shook his head. “You don’t follow directions very well, do you, baby?”

  Baby? Did he just call me baby?

  I was not his baby. I was nobody’s baby. I never intended to be.

  Then why did the term of endearment and the way it slid off his tongue make me squeeze my legs together and bite my lower lip?

  “Sir, I—”

  “Amelia, you’ve been running around all day.” He nodded at the bags as he approached me. When he took the rest of the items from my hands, his fingers grazed over mine, sending sparks up my arms and making me rub the goose bumps from them the moment he stood back. “Sit on the stool. I’ll get you a drink.”

  A drink? Was he crazy? There was no way I wanted a drink of anything. That would take too long. I wanted to get out of there.

  He turned to set the rest of the bags on the kitchen table several yards away and then lifted his gaze back to me. “Sit.” His command was more forceful that time.

  Without hesitating, I stepped on the bottom rung of the center stool and lifted myself onto the seat. I squeezed my legs together and gripped my hands in my lap. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

  A deep inhale was a mistake on my part. After my calculated effort to not inhale Mr. Alexander’s space, I had lost the battle. I already had an inkling what he smelled like from Friday night. Now I was inundated with his scent and that of his squeaky clean house.

  Lemon was the predominant clean smell. Mr. Alexander’s personal choice in aftershave covered it, lingering in the air in a way that tantalized me. I hated being aware of that fact.

  “Did you have any problems?”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “With the list. Did you encounter any difficulties?”

  “Oh. No, sir. I found everything.” I found way too many things. I now know way more about you than I ever wanted to know about another human being, especially my boss.

  I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming at him that he was an evil asshole. I wanted to get this done and get out of there.

  Mr. Alexander headed for the kitchen cabinets and grabbed two wineglasses from the rack hanging beneath them. Totally awesome. I wanted to own something like that one day.

  “You’re pissed.” His mouth curved up in a grin on one side.

  “Uh…” Shit.

  “Why are you mad, Amelia?”

  “I’m not mad, sir,” I lied. Well, actually it wasn’t really a lie. The word to describe how I felt was significantly stronger than mad.

  He chuckled. “Really now?”

  “No. I’m fine. I really should get back to the office.” I swiveled in my seat, but my boss pinned me with his gaze.

  “Stay still. Stop fidgeting.”

  Fidgeting? In a second I was going to start launching things at him. Forget fidgeting. He was on my last freaking nerve.

  I froze, however, mesmerized by the way he operated the most fantastic corkscrew I’d ever seen. Every muscle in his bare arm engaged in the activity as he leaned into the bottle, and then with a sharp pop, he had the wine open. Before I could utter another syllable, he’d poured two glasses and handed me one. “It’s not as good as the Corton Charlemagne you picked up for me, but it’s still a fine wine.” He took a sip.

  I stared at him and then at the glass sitting on the island in front of me. He’d lost his mind if he thought I was going to have a drink with him. It was barely two in the afternoon, and I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

  Mr. Alexander leaned both elbows on the counter and met my stunned gaze. He smiled and held that look for what seemed like an eternity. “My God. You’re precious.”

  My eyes widened and my mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  He pointed at the wine in front of me. “Take a drink, baby. I’m hoping it will keep you from grabbing one of my pans and whacking me over the head.” He pointed above my head.

  Why hadn’t I thought of that fine idea? I might need to take him up on the idea if he didn’t let me go soon. “Sir, with all due respect, it’s two in the afternoon. I have more work to do, and I have to drive. I can’t drink wine before doing either.”

  “You’re done f
or the day. I’ll have Arthur take you home when the time comes.”

  Who the hell was Arthur? I shook my head as though dazed.

  Mr. Alexander lifted his glass again and hummed as he took his next sip. He swirled the clear liquid around in the glass and then held it up to the light. “Delicious.”

  The side of the island my boss stood on had a stove top with six burners. Mr. Alexander grabbed a pan from over his head next and set it on the stove, flipping on the burner and adjusting it to whatever temperature he had in mind. “Wine, Amelia. You’re going to need it.” He raised his brows and nodded at my untouched glass.

  “Mr. Alexander—”

  “Cade,” he interrupted. “Or I like the way you call me Sir.” Now he grinned. “But Mr. Alexander is reserved for the boardroom or my father.”

  He liked the way I called him sir? What the hell?

  “Okay, sir, I really should be going.”

  “Amelia.” He looked exasperated. “Stop arguing with me for one minute and relax. Drink your wine while I cook.”

  Cook? Every single thing he said added to my shock and discomfort.

  “You must be starving. As fast as you got here, I’m sure you never paused to eat lunch. I haven’t eaten either. We’ll eat together.”

  I needed to put an end to this. And fast.

  Before I could utter another word, I noticed what my boss was doing, and my heart nearly beat out of my chest.

  Cade Alexander pulled the potato dish from the refrigerator and stuck it in the oven. He set the prawns on the island next to the stove and plopped the bag of green beans in the microwave.

  He was about to feed me the very meal I just picked up from the store? I’d dropped into a bad episode of the Twilight Zone.

  “Sir. What are you doing?”

  He grinned his huge smile at me, his dimples making my knees weak. “Making lunch.” He tipped his head to one side as though what he was doing was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “But I assumed this food was for later, sir.” I could have smacked myself in the forehead for saying that, but it slipped out unbidden. I also grabbed the glass of wine from the counter and took a long drink from it. Who the fuck cared if I was driving? At that point I needed the fortification more than anything. I had no idea why I was still in my boss’s kitchen letting him bully me into doing his bidding, which right now included sitting still and drinking wine.