Hard Flip_A Billionaire Romance Page 4

  Tristan shrugged and crossed one ankle over the other knee. “Imagine Wolfram’s reaction if you showed up to the Summer Splash with a girlfriend and a kid.”

  There was a distinct appeal in the suggestion, but if Mischa had access someone who was granting wishes, he’d go for something grander, like making the Wolfram deal vanish for good. “Great idea. I’ll hop on down to Nordstrom—that should be reputable enough, right? Pick me up a pre-made family. Then I’ll take up yachting. And buy an ascot.” He made a gagging motion. “Or kill me now.”

  “You’re such a fucking drama queen.”

  That made Mischa smile. “What am I supposed to do. Really? Get married so I look responsible? Though... I could post something on Craig’s List. Wife wanted. Three Month Contract. Must love beer, pizza, and skateboards.”

  “God, no.” Tristan wrinkled his nose. “If we’re talking seriously, and I’m going to for about thirty seconds, that’s the worst thing you could do. You hook up with some attractive woman, announce an engagement out of the blue after only knowing her for a few days, and bring her to that party? You become a stereotype of your own reputation. The family-guy route would only work if you already had a family.”

  “Which isn’t a thing.” Mischa wasn’t in the mood for a circular conversation. “I’m going to check out that property you’re scoping in East Bench. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  Checking out the property didn’t take Mischa as long as he hoped. It was a fifteen-minute drive from the office, and about two minutes to see the building was a heavy windstorm away from being condemned.

  He took the scenic route on his return, only half conscious he was following the same path as last night that led him to the skate park, and Ash.

  The street signs and house numbers tickled another memory he couldn’t quite grasp. What is it?

  He pulled to the side of the road, grabbed his phone, and opened the email from G. Taylor. That was it. The guy’s address was nearby.

  Reason argued he was better off placing a call. Discussing this professionally. Blah, blah, blah, fuck reason. Mischa wanted to look the man in the eye when he asked, What the hell?

  He navigated suburban streets, past rows of brick houses and manicured lawns and ancient trees, until he found the house he was looking for. A moment later, he was knocking, and reminding himself not to hammer on the door. That would be rude.

  The guy who answered was half a foot taller than Mischa, with shoulders that much broader. Mischa gave him a casual smile. “I’m looking for G. Taylor.”

  “Apartment ’round back.” The guy jerked his thumb toward the rear of the house.

  “Thanks.” There’s a second home here? Mischa followed the path to the driveway, and around. Sure enough, a set of four steps led down half a level to another door. He’d gotten a resume from an honest-to-God basement dweller? It might be funny if he weren’t so annoyed.

  As he descended the stairs, faint music drifted to greet him. Iron Maiden of all things, being accompanied by a sweet female voice. Or his imagination was playing tricks on him, because he’d rather be back at the coffee shop than here.

  Again, he knocked.

  “Hang on,” a woman called from inside, and the music stopped. A latch clicked, the door swung open, and he found himself face to face with Ash.

  His voice died in his throat. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail with loose strands escaping around her face. She wore a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants, but he knew what hid underneath.

  “Did you follow me home?” The concern mixed with curiosity in her voice drew his gaze back to her face.

  The question helped him shake off the surreal sensation of seeing her again, and he frowned. “No. You made yourself clear last night.” Painfully. Enough that he shouldn’t even be entertaining thoughts of her, let alone struggling to not stare.

  “Then you’re standing on my stoop because...”

  He held up his phone, with the email still open. “I’m looking for some”—he stopped himself from saying asshole—“guy named G. Taylor.”

  “Oh. Uh... hi?”

  “Hello.” Hadn’t they moved past the friendly greeting stage of the conversation? “So, is he here?” Shit. Did she turn him down last night because she was married? And if so, what was with that kiss, anyway—

  “I’m her.”

  The two words bounced in his head, until they found purchase, and her meaning sank in. “You’re G. Taylor.” The basement-dwelling, arrogant asshole punk? “How do you get Ash out of G?”

  “It’s short for Georgia Ashleigh Taylor. Why do you have my resume, and do you think maybe a phone call would have sufficed if you were interested in talking to me?”

  He wasn’t letting her turn this back on him. He wasn’t the one at fault. “Where do you get off hacking my website, then trying to extort me?”

  “First of all, hacking implies I stole your password, breached layers of security, or something else nefarious.” Her tone shifted to defensive. “You have a basic installation with the default password still in place, and I used a standard script that anyone can find on Google.” Her expression faltered. “Not that I’m restricted to knowledge I can search for. I know my shi—stuff.”

  He studied her, puzzled. “Are you bragging or being humble?”

  “Neither. Both.”

  “Ooh, back for round two?” A cheerful voice interrupted, and he looked up to see Kelly standing on the sidewalk above, leaning over the railing to look down at him. “You didn’t have to go home and change to impress anyone. She already liked you.”

  “There wasn’t a round one.” The annoyance in Ash’s voice was growing. “I thought you were going with Emma.”

  “Nah. Shopping with no money is boring.” Kelly bounded down the stairs, brushed past Mischa, and skipped into the apartment. Two people lived here? He couldn’t see much from his vantage point, but if it was under the house, the space couldn’t be that big.

  “There’s a number two on my list.” Ash’s comment drew him back to the conversation. “I’m not trying to extort you. Who assumes something like that? I found a well-documented flaw, and I pointed it out to you, rather than taking advantage of it. It was supposed to show you I know how to do the job you’re hiring for.”

  It sounded like a weak excuse to him.

  “If you weren’t trying to exploit it, why did you do it?”

  Ash pursed her lips. “Right now your website is the equivalent of a giant red button that says Do Not Push. If you saw that, what would you do?”

  “Not fucking push it.” Which wasn’t true, especially in his case, but he was too vested in this to back down.

  “Well goodie for you. A lot of people will push it, and most wouldn’t have told you after.”

  “Translation—they wouldn’t have blackmailed me.”

  A growl rolled from her throat, low and irritated and sexy. “You don’t do so good with the listening before the speaking, do you? Forget it. I don’t want your stupid job.”

  “I didn’t offer it to you.” Which meant once this conversation was over, so was encountering her again. A protest pinged inside, telling him to hear her out, but he wasn’t in the mood for sentiment and tolerance.

  “Good.”

  “All of that, the entire build-up, for good?”

  She furrowed her brow, and a scowl sank in. “Good... bye.” She closed the door. Didn’t even have the grace to slam it, and put a nice exclamation point on the argument.

  He clenched his fist, but kept his hand by his side, resisting the desire to knock and start things over. The only reason he wanted to apologize was because she was attractive. And intelligent. And an incredible kisser.

  Most of those weren’t good reasons for a business relationship. He gave the door one last glance, and stalked back to his car, letting aggravation boil inside and sear away guilt at the assumptions he’d leaped to, and the way he acted as a result.

  Chapter Five

  ASH STARED AT THE CLOSE
D door, disbelief at her own actions racing through her head.

  “You’re such a dork.” Kelly had settled into the corner on her mattress. She grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.

  Ash pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the door, and groaned. “I know.”

  She plodded to her side of the room. Kelly was watching something with a bad laugh track and worse dialog.

  Ash pulled out her laptop, but her gaze fell on her sister, laughing and captivated by what she watched.

  She remembered the day Kelly was born. It was one of those moments permanently fixed in her head, attached to the label of where were you when... Her dad had built the event up for months, since they first sat her down and explained she was going to have a baby sister.

  His lessons were drilled into her head, along with the rest of it.

  “Big sisters help their moms.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “Whatever Mom needs. Help with dishes, or putting away clothes. You know how to do all of that, don’t you?”

  She’d nod and say, “Yes, Dad.”

  Which tended to get her a pat on the head and ice cream. She was willing to agree to a lot of things, even cleaning the bathroom, if there was ice cream involved.

  It seemed like her mother needed a lot of help. Ten-year-old Ash learned to resent it quickly. Kelly was always crying. Mom was always crying. Dinner didn’t get made until Dad got home and did the cooking, which seemed to get later each week. So Ash learned to cook, too. Had to help Mom. Had to be a good big sister.

  The second where were you when... moment that was permanently fixed in her head, came about six months later. Kelly was exactly 180 days old. Ash was in her room, with headphones in and music turned all the way up, because she was tired of hearing Kelly cry, and she was tired of hearing Mom cry, and she was hungry, and Dad forbade her from making dinner. Not because he thought it was dangerous, but last time she tried, she mixed hamburger in the macaroni and cheese, and he’d been saving the meat for something different.

  Her father tore off her headphones. “What the hell did you do?”

  She’d never heard him so angry. Never seen so much hatred and fury contorting his face.

  It was a full day of ambulances and well-meaning relatives and more adults crying than she thought was possible, before she figured out Dad was upset because Mom committed suicide.

  He rarely missed an opportunity after that to remind Ash it wouldn’t have happened—Mom would still be alive—if she’d been a better sister and daughter.

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Kelly’s jab dragged Ash back to the now.

  Ash shook away the dark clouds of the past. “Sorry. Spaced out.”

  “You think? Look, Mischa Dozniyov is hot—old, but hot—but he kind of comes off as a tool.”

  That drew a laugh from Ash and helped ground her. “He really does.” A sexy, fun tool, who let her forget her troubles for a night, but still a tool.

  She flipped the lid up on her laptop. Speaking of, what the hell was he thinking, accusing her of blackmailing him? Who made threats like that?

  Ash pulled up the email she sent last night, and scanned it again. This morning, with a few hours between her and its composition, and her brain working on full power, key phrases stood out to her.

  Dangerous exploit... Someone will take advantage... Willing to come on board for reasonable compensation to correct the issue...

  Maybe she could see how he interpreted it as a threat. Possibly.

  Damn it, she needed to learn to think things through before she hit Send. She should just delete his number from her phone now, relegate last night to a passing memory, and go back to being her. She grabbed her phone and pulled up the contact she’d just added a few hours ago. Her thumb hovered over the screen.

  The neighbor knocked on the door that separated the basement apartment from the house upstairs.

  “I got it.” Ash set her computer aside and scrambled to her feet to see what Hugh wanted.

  When she answered, he held out a cordless phone, hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s for G.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a grateful smile, shoved aside all her rambling thoughts about Mischa and her past, and took the phone from him. “This is Georgia. May I help you?”

  There was a pause on the other end—she’d gotten used to that. He cleared his throat. “This is Reggie with GenuzTec. I received your resume in response to a listing for a Database Administrator position.”

  She cranked the dial on her enthusiasm back to a professional level. “Yes, of course. It’s great to hear from you.”

  “I’d like to discuss the position with you, if you’ve got a few minutes.” He seemed to have recovered from the initial shock of hearing a female voice.

  “Now is perfect.” She glanced at Hugh, who stepped aside. She brushed past into the laundry room, grateful he was understanding about both her situation, and her compulsion to pace during phone interviews.

  As Reggie asked her a series of questions, ranging from where do you see yourself in five years to what’s the command to determine if there are database locks, she answered each with concise, accurate answers.

  “Do you have any more questions for me, Ms. Taylor?” His tone had shifted to something much friendlier than when the call started.

  “When can we speak in person?”

  He laughed. “I was just getting to that. I don’t suppose you can come in this afternoon. I have an opening at two.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying Hell, yes. “I think I can fit that into my schedule.” She walked back into the apartment, headed for the fridge, and scratched out the rest of the details on the dry erase board as Reggie gave her address and other information. She disconnected, double-checked to make sure the line was off, then fist pumped. “Yes.”

  Hugh took the phone back from her. “Fingers crossed for you,” he said with a grin.

  “Thank you.” Ash was already ticking off in her head a list of things she needed to do to get ready.

  He had the door halfway shut when he paused. “Before I forget, anything I need to know about this morning?”

  Ash ran the question through her head, and didn’t find a match for meaning. “Uh, no?”

  “Making sure. Guy in a suit shows up asking for you, and he looks like he’s seconds from blowing a gasket, then I hear shouting... I gotta make sure you’re all right.”

  He meant Mischa. She gave Hugh a thin smile. “He found me, but problem solved.” Or something like that. “Thanks for worrying about us.”

  “Always.” Hugh knocked her lightly on the shoulder with his fist. “And good luck today, seriously.”

  She was grateful someone had her back who didn’t expect something in return. When she met Hugh, she’d thought he might be hitting on her, but after some awkward and embarrassing you’re not my type on her part, they’d found a middle ground where she realized he was just a friendly guy.

  She locked him out of the basement apartment and set about getting ready for her interview. She had a couple of decent slacks and shirts outfits she kept for when she started office work again, but one suit, tailored, cut to make her look attractive, professional, and like she had her shit together.

  This was one of those rare times where she wished she believed in a higher power. It would be nice to send a plea toward the sky, and believe someone was listening and watching over her.

  By the time she got to her interview, the butterflies in her stomach were launching their own revolution. Reggie was probably in his late forties, but the lines around his eyes, and the slouch in his gait, made it difficult to tell. He met her in Reception. His handshake reminded her of a damp washcloth, and she resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her slacks when she pulled away.

  He led her to his office, and nodded toward the chair across from his desk. “Thank you for making time for me this afternoon.”

  “My pleasure.” She kept her tone light,
even as his gaze drifted to her chest. She twitched her fingers against her leg, rather than reach up and try and close the gap on her shirt with an extra button that didn’t exist.

  He shuffled the papers in front of him, her resume on top with a bunch of notes scribbled that she couldn’t read. “I was impressed with your knowledge, but I’m concerned about your lack of education.”

  “Tell me how I can prove I’m qualified.” She tried to make contact, but he hadn’t looked up yet. “I’m a quick learner, and I’m happy to take whatever tests are associated with the position.”

  “I’m just concerned with your lack of education, you’re not a good fit for the job.”

  She clenched her jaw, fighting back the then why did you call me in? Her first instinct was to let him see how pissed she was, but last time she did that, she was almost literally thrown out on her ass. “I see.”

  “But I may have an assistant position opening up.”

  “That’s not where my training is, but as I said, I’m a quick learner.” If the job paid well, she’d put up with some creeper staring at her boobs a few hours a day. Especially if the position came with benefits.

  He finally met her gaze, but only for a few seconds before he stared at his hands. “I don’t have approval yet, and it’s only part time, but we’re a strong company, with good benefits, and there may be opportunities for advancement to something more like what you’re looking for.”

  She could do that. Hope fluttered behind her ribs. “I’d like to find out more. Hours. Starting salary. Requirements.”

  “Your duties would be determined on a day to day basis, and the hours are flexible, but no more than twenty a week. Hourly pay, three dollars over minimum.”

  It took her about half a second to do the math, since the pay was barely more than she made now, but the hours were half. On the other hand, if it was part time work, she could do both jobs. If it meant proving herself so she could move into the position she wanted, that was a double bonus. “If you opened a position like that, I’d think about it.”

  “Perfect.” He smirked, and her skin threatened to crawl away. “I’ll run it by the guy up top, for approval. Are you free this evening to discuss details? Dinner, at eight.”