by Katee Robert
She gave up. Not forever. But it was kind of nice to just paint and not have to worry about being chipper. There was no relaxing, though—not with Cameron taking up too much space in the front office. Every time she moved, she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. He moved with perfect precision, each roll of the paint even and uniform.
It took two hours to finish up, and part of Trish was almost sad to end the companionable silence. She stood back and pushed her hair away from her face with her forearm. “Oh yeah, this is the right color.”
Cameron surveyed it as if he were a color expert. Hell, maybe he was. His brows furrowed. “It’s strangely pleasing.”
“That’s the point.” She placed her brush in the paint tray and started gathering up the various supplies scattered around the room. The tape would come off in the morning and then she’d touch up as needed, but she had a feeling there would be little of that necessary. Cameron was too much of a perfectionist to leave drips anywhere, which served her just fine.
She straightened and realized he was still watching her. His dark eyes studied her face as if he could divine her thoughts. Cameron frowned harder. “What are your plans for the front office?”
So now we have questions?
She bit back the sarcastic response and smiled. “This is the first impression clients get when they walk through the doors, so I want it to be welcoming and designed to set them at ease.” Trish’s main degree was in sales, but she’d gotten a minor in design. Her dream might be to eventually work in corporate fashion, but she knew how to use that skill set to set the tone of a room—and help people choose clothing that would make them happy. Not that she got to use the latter at all these days.
“We usually meet clients off-site.”
“Yes, I’m aware. But that wastes time in transit and Aaron mentioned that there’s a boardroom perfectly suitable for conducting meetings.” Though, considering the state of the front office, she hadn’t had the heart to check out that room yet to see what perfectly suitable meant. There would no doubt be more painting in her future, but hopefully it at least had furniture that was acceptable.
Cameron seemed to consider that and looked around the room again. “Tell me your plans.” A tiny hesitation. “Please.”
He’s trying. Throw him a bone. Aaron had warned her that Cameron didn’t bother with the social niceties, which set most people on edge, but his abruptness had still caught her off guard. If he was going to make an effort, though, she could do the same.
Trish walked over to stand in front of the door to the elevator. “Come here.”
He gave her a look like he thought she was trying to put one over on him but joined her in facing the room. His shoulder brushed hers, sending shivers through her body that she couldn’t quite control. He was just so big. Big and overwhelming and he smelled really good. He’s your boss, Trish. Slow your roll.
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Imagine this. You walk in and are instantly put at ease by the soothing green. I can make the desk work, but there will be a grouping of new chairs there.” She pointed to one side of the office. “And a smaller one there.” On the opposite side. “The window facing the street brings in enough light to justify some kind of plant, but I haven’t decided what will be the best fit. Probably one on each side of the window to create balance. A small water fixture on the other side in the corner. Some kind of art on the wall behind my desk, and maybe on another wall or two, though I haven’t decided yet.”
“Lots of changes.”
He sounded neutral enough, but she couldn’t help straightening her spine and lifting her chin. “Yes, but that’s what I was hired to do—create the best client-facing aspect of this business as possible. That starts with first impressions. You and Aaron have a company that’s one of the best in the business, and as silly as it might seem, presentation matters. Meeting in secondary locations is fine, but this is better.”
“One condition.” He kept going before she had a chance to protest. “No more painting alone.”
“Of all the—”
Cameron turned to face her, his chest nearly touching hers with each inhale. The proximity stalled her breath in her lungs and choked off whatever she’d been about to say. Trish swallowed hard, caught between wanting him to kiss her and wanting him to back the hell up and let some of the air back into the room. He didn’t touch her, though. Didn’t lean down. Didn’t cup her jaw or press her back against the wall and ravage her mouth.
Get yourself together.
His voice disturbed the air between them. “No. Painting. Alone.” Cameron’s dark gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest of seconds before it snapped back to her eyes. “Do we understand each other, Trish?”
The sound of her name on his lips turned her knees to Jell-O. She swayed toward him, toward the command in his voice, but caught herself at the last moment. Do not kiss your boss. Trish took a step back, and then another. She looked at the floor and swallowed hard. “Yeah, we understand each other.”
He helped her finish cleaning up in silence, though she stewed a bit when Cameron made a point of taking the ladder and stowing it in the closet without letting her touch it. He walked back into the front office as she slipped on her shoes. “You’re staying with Aaron?”
She could have let him believe that, but Trish had already misstepped enough on her first day without adding lying to the list, too. “I was, but I got my own place.” Her brother had fronted her the money for the first month’s rent, but she didn’t think he wanted her underfoot any more than she wanted to be underfoot while he and Becka got used to the whole new baby thing.
Cameron gave her another of those dark looks like he wasn’t sure what he thought of that. Good Lord, but the man was cranky. He finally sighed. “I’ll call you a cab.”
It didn’t take much to read between the lines. He’d been on his way out of here when he caught her unfortunate fall. She was keeping him from plans of some sort, but his weirdly stubborn chivalrous streak wouldn’t let him abandon her. Chivalry? More like control freakishness. Either way, he’d helped her out with painting even though he didn’t have to, and she wasn’t about to impose on him further.
Trish smiled and grabbed her purse. “Actually, I’m walking. It’s only a few blocks from here.”
“Then I’ll walk you.” If anything, he sounded more grumpy now than he had before.
“Oh, that’s totally not necessary. The neighborhood is just fine and it’s not particularly late.” She gave Cameron an absent smile and headed for the elevator. “Thanks, though.” It was edging toward eleven, but that didn’t mean anything. She’d checked the street out last week with Becka—apparently walking could induce labor and Becka had been determined to make it happen—and there were several bars that would still be open around now, which meant pedestrian traffic. It was one of the pluses of the area when she was picking a place to live—that and the apartment came furnished and was within walking distance to the office. The rent was still astronomical, but Aaron was paying her an astronomical salary.
He’d promised it wasn’t a pity job, that he really needed her specifically to do this, but it felt like a pity job.
Stop it. Chin up. You’re going to help out your brother, save up some money and explore the city while you figure out your next step. Those are all good things.
She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Cameron walking beside her until Trish stepped out onto the street and was hit full in the face with icy wind. She shivered and barely had time to wish that she’d packed a warmer coat before a heavy weight settled on her shoulders.
She blinked and touched the coat Cameron had just draped over her. “You’ll freeze.”
“I’m fine.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Which way?”
She could keep arguing and let them both stand out in the
cold or she could just give in and spend next week establishing that she didn’t want Cameron looking after her. She had an older brother. She didn’t need two.
You don’t see this man in a brotherly light and you know it.
Shut up.
And he wouldn’t have stared at your mouth like that if he saw you like a sister.
Seriously. Shut. Up.
She picked up her pace and Cameron easily fell into step next to her. Even as she told herself to keep her smile in place and just accept his chaperoning, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “You realize I’m an adult, right? I can walk three blocks without having you shadow my steps and glower at anyone who looks at me sideways.” When he didn’t respond, her irritation flared hotter. “I have an older brother. I don’t need another one.” She jerked her thumb toward the door they’d stopped in front of. “This is me.”
“Trish.”
God, the things that man could do with a single syllable. She froze, her feet rooted to the ground as he stepped closer, his big body blocking the wind. This time, she couldn’t stop herself from swaying toward him, answering the gravitational pull he exuded. He didn’t move, but he didn’t have to. Trish went up onto her tiptoes and her mouth found his as if there had never been another destination for her.
The contact shocked her right down her to bones. His lips moved against hers, cautious and then commanding, taking everything she gave and then demanding more. Her knees actually buckled at the slow slide of his tongue against hers, and Cameron caught her easily around the hips.
He lifted his head, breaking the contact between them. All she could do was stare as he took his jacket from around her shoulders and shrugged it on. He nudged her to her door and waited for her to key in the code to get through. Then Cameron stood there until she shut the door firmly behind her.
Trish watched him stalk away. Did that just happen?
She’d just kissed her boss.
On her first day.
She pressed her shaking fingers to her lips. “I am in so much trouble.”
CHAPTER THREE
CAMERON SPENT ALL weekend cursing himself for kissing Trish back. He should have stepped away and clarified that they had a professional relationship only. Reminded her that she was his best friend’s little sister. Done literally anything except coax her mouth open with his tongue.
Now he knew what she tasted like. And that she’d melted so sweetly against him at the first contact. Not to mention the delicious way she’d shivered when he’d grabbed her hips.
Fuck me.
When Monday morning rolled around, he almost decided to work remotely. That was the path of a coward. Better to rip the Band-Aid off now and deal with her hurt feelings and move on. It might make the workplace awkward, but if Aaron’s glowing praise of his baby sister was any indication, it wouldn’t get her down for long.
It was only a kiss, after all.
The elevator seemed to take twice as long as normal, and he had to concentrate to keep from fidgeting. Cameron had arrived thirty minutes early on purpose. If he was safely camped out in his office, hopefully they could just pretend that misstep on Friday never happened.
The elevator doors opened and he barely made it a single step. If not for the walls being painted the same green he’d been elbow deep in a few days ago, he’d have thought he was in the wrong place. Comfortable-looking chairs—a warm sand color with a stripe of burnt red—were arranged on either side of the room. A leafy tree gracefully rose on either side of the window.
A window that had new curtains to match the chairs.
On the other side of the room, a water feature was arranged in the corner, a geometrical design with round stones and dark wood borders.
There was even fucking art on the walls.
When the hell did she find time to do this? She had to have put in long-ass days to find the pieces and haul them up here. He could comfort himself that they’d been delivered, but from what little he knew about Trish Livingston, he had no doubt that she’d physically carried every single piece up here herself.
Without asking for help.
Without once considering that she should ask for help.
Irritation flickered closer to true anger. He eyed her desk as he passed, taking in the cheery flower arrangement, the stack of bright Post-it notes and the overflowing mug of equally bright pens.
He clenched his jaw and headed down the hallway, but Cameron only made it three steps when the door to their mostly unused conference room opened and Trish herself appeared. She had a handful of paint color swatches in front of her face, and her brow was furrowed and her lips—red, today—were pursed. She hummed to herself. “This blue is too cold. No red. No yellow. I need a power color that’s not in-your-face.”
He planted his feet, irritation derailed by sheer curiosity. And the woman, damn her, didn’t even notice him standing there. She ran right into him and bounced off his chest, and it was only his cupping her elbows that kept her from landing on her ass.
“Damn!” Trish laughed. “Mom always said to keep my head on the here and now. Guess I should have listened, huh?”
Cameron just stared. They were so fucking close, if she leaned a little farther in, he would be able to see directly down her flowy purple top. He averted his eyes and released her. “You’re here early.”
“Lots of work to be done.”
It was too fucking early for her to be this chipper. He shot her a look. “How much coffee have you had?”
“Coffee?” She frowned. “I don’t drink coffee. It gives me the shakes and that’s just not my idea of fun. I stick with chamomile tea when I want something warm and cozy in my hands.” Trish’s blond hair was in a cloud around her shoulders today, her curls giving her an angelic look that was completely at odds with her fitted skirt.
For fuck’s sake, Cameron, stop looking at her. She’s being professional. You’re being inappropriate.
He cleared his throat and took another step back. “The conference room is fine. You don’t need to kill yourself for this job. The front office didn’t need to be finished so quickly.”
She wilted a little, but then her smile brightened until it was damn near blinding. “I like the work.” Trish charged forward, and he had to scramble back to avoid making contact with her again. She glanced at him as if he was being ridiculous. “And, no, the conference room is not fine. You can’t expect clients to take your presentations seriously when there are spiderwebs in the corners and all the chair cushions are moth-eaten. I’ll take care of it.”
That was what he was afraid of.
“Trish.”
She stopped in her tracks, and her smile dimmed to something closer to a genuine expression. “I was hoping we didn’t have to do this, but obviously you’ve been chewing on it all weekend.” Trish sighed and turned to face him fully. “Look, I’m sorry. I was out of line when I kissed you. I could give half a dozen reasons why it happened, but the truth is that it was inappropriate and I put you in a bad spot. So I’m sorry. Let’s pretend it never happened?”
Cameron wanted to know what those half a dozen reasons were, but he couldn’t ask. Not when she was so determined to put them back into their respective boxes of employee and employer. There was one thing he couldn’t let stand. “If you remember, I kissed you back.”
Her blue eyes flared with heat, quickly banked. “I remember.” Just like that, she was chipper Trish again, so sweet she made his teeth ache. “Don’t let me keep you from your work. I was hoping we could sit down later today and go over your current clients and their needs, but other than that I can get the conference room whipped into shape pretty quickly.”
“I have some time this afternoon.” Which would hopefully give him the opportunity to put a little distance between whatever the hell was going on between them.
“Perfect. If anything pops up between then
and now, I’ll let you know.”
He shifted, realized he was backing away from her like someone trying to avoid being mauled by a wild animal and forced himself to turn away. “Do that.” He could have sworn she laughed a little as he strode away from her, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed her sunny expression firmly in place.
Must have been my imagination.
* * *
Trish walked to her desk on shaking legs. She’d had a plan. It was a very good plan. The best plan, considering her insane impulse to kiss Cameron a few short days ago. She’d come into the office and pretend like nothing had changed, like she was a professional who’d made a mistake, like she hadn’t used that brief kiss with him to bring herself to orgasm no less than seven times over the weekend.
It wasn’t her fault. She’d wanted to get the front office set up for Monday, but everywhere she looked, she saw evidence of Cameron. That was the spot he’d caught her when she’d fallen off the ladder. Over there in the corner was where she’d spent a solid sixty seconds staring at the line of his back muscles pressing against his shirt every time he’d reached over his head to paint. Right here was where they’d stood shoulder to shoulder as she’d told him her vision for the room.
A man shouldn’t be able to imprint himself on her inside of two hours with only a handful of words exchanged, and Trish had managed to convince herself that it was all in her head.
Until she’d collided with him in the hallway. They’d been so close, his big hands clasping her elbows in a way that should most definitely not be erotic, his chest rising and falling in the most tempting way possible.
She’d almost kissed him again.
Trish dropped into her chair and bumped her head against her desk a couple times. Sadly, the contact did nothing to clear the desire from her brain—or her body. I want my boss. I want to kiss him and do the horizontal tango and a few things that are illegal in half a dozen states.
What a mess.
A footstep had her opening her eyes, and she turned her head to press her cheek to her desk. Cameron stood in the middle of the hallway, his body tense and expression unreadable.
