Conflict of Interest Page 7

  Chapter 7

  A folded blanket stared back at Scott in his rearview mirror. It would probably be there for a while—he like the memories associated with it. He glanced at Kenzie out of the corner of his eye. Had she noticed? Only the obvious really seemed to escape her, so probably not.

  He’d frozen inside when she’d brought up his past and was glad she’d let him change the subject so quickly. It wasn’t like he’d come from a battered home, not in the traditional sense. He’d had it all growing up—money, the best education available, and almost two decades of the finest food, clothes, and friends money could buy.

  He glanced at Kenzie as the unpleasant memories tripped through his thoughts. The corners of her mouth were pulled up in an almost smile. She wouldn’t tell him where they were going, only that Hot Topic wasn’t an appropriate place for someone like him to shop. He wasn’t sure what made him different from anyone who worked for him, but he hadn’t bothered to tell her the only thing he owned from Hot Topic was a pair of panda mittens someone had given him as a gag gift a few years ago. Maybe he’d dig those up tomorrow just for kicks.

  But that was the thing about his childhood. His father was first-generation money—having started as a mechanic to support his mother when he’d gotten her pregnant right before high school graduation. But Dad was bright and had managed to spin the opportunity quickly, growing his name and reputation into the face of one of the largest car dealership chains in the western states.

  He’d wanted Scott to have everything he hadn’t. Including connections, the knowledge to be able to perform on demand, and the ability to mold himself to what the “right” people expected of him.

  And Scott might not have resented it if that upbringing hadn’t included countless hours of being told playing video games would never get him anywhere in life, and that the only way to be someone important was to wear the mask the people with the money expected to see.

  “Park here.” Kenzie’s request jarred him back to the present. She was pointing to a row of spots in front of Nordstrom.

  “Yes ma’am.” He did as he was told, keeping a teasing lilt to his response.

  He followed her into the store, past racks of designer labels and women who reminded him of his mother—straight posture, well-coifed silver hair, and gold and diamonds sparkling from their wrists and fingers—to the men’s department.

  Plastic torsos in button-down shirts and silk ties stared down at them from high shelves on the walls. Scott would have told her this wasn’t where he really wanted to be, but she would have misunderstood. Assumed he was being difficult and not just picky.

  Displays dotted the area, but no actual racks, and a counter sat in the middle of it all, a familiar young man scanning the shop, doing a decent job of hiding his boredom.

  A smile lit his hazel eyes when Scott and Kenzie approached, and he stepped away from his watch post. “Mr. McAllister, I didn’t realize you’d be in today. What can I do for you?”

  Scott returned the smile. “Hey, Evan. I didn’t either.” Scott nodded at Kenzie. “This young lady isn’t as fond of my T-shirt as I am. Grab whatever she asks for?”

  “Is there anywhere in this valley you aren’t on a first name basis with the staff?” Kenzie’s voice was a low rasp, only meant for his ears.

  He glanced at her, relieved that her cheeks were still flushed with amusement. “There’s a Village Inn on State and one-oh-sixth that I don’t think I’ve been in since I was a teenager.”

  Her lips twitched as she struggled to hold back a smile, and her gaze travelled over him.

  His blood pressure increased, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to give himself something else to focus on. Between that appraising glance and her full lips, he was wishing they were anywhere but a public place.

  “You’re what, a 34/34?” she asked.

  She was good. He bit back the offer to let her measure his inseam herself if she wanted to find out. “That’s right.”

  She turned back to Evan. “We need some slacks, a couple of Izods and Oxfords, though oddly enough I think we’re okay on the sport jacket front.”

  Evan blinked, friendly smile frozen in place. “For him?”

  Scott swallowed his laugh at the disbelief. Evan was forever giving him a hard time about being too good to buy his clothes off the rack like a pleeb. Childhood had left some impressions he couldn’t shake—like formal and business attire should be tailored. Fortunately, since he’d rather spend his money on other things, he didn’t have to make those purchases often. “For me.”

  Evan gave him one last glance and then shook his head. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

  “What was that about?” Kenzie asked as soon as Evan was gone.

  Scott shrugged. “Maybe I should have mentioned we’ve got a corporate account. We send our people here when they need to look good for trade shows, meetings, whatever. I’m just not usually one of them.”

  Kenzie shook her head, and her expression was a bizarre combination of disbelief and what he would have called fascination on anyone else. Maybe he should tell her that was almost—but not quite—as attractive as the lip biting, or the blushing. With every shift in her expression, his pulse raced a little faster, drawing his attention from the task at hand and tempting him with what they could get up to if they took another afternoon off.

  She stepped away, wandering around the department, occasionally paying attention to a display tie, or running a finger down a headless torso—he assumed checking the fabric of the shirt. What he wouldn’t give to be that mannequin right then, lower body or not. At least the plastic dummy didn’t have to worry about how impossible it currently was to sate the pulse below his waist, or deal with the lightheadedness that came from all his blood rushing to his cock.

  Scott tried to be discreet about adjusting his jeans. They needed to buy this stuff and get out of here.

  Kenzie glanced back at him and nodded at the shirt/tie combination next to her, elongating the stretch of her neck. “What about this?” Her cheeks and lips were flushed with the genuine fun she seemed to be having.

  What he actually thought was that the two blues were different hues and clashed. But the creeping lust disagreed, thinking whatever she wanted him to if he could run his mouth over the hollow at the base of her throat. “I trust your judgment.”

  “I have a dressing room set up.” Evan returned, interrupting the moment. “This way.”

  Of course she was going to want him to try the stuff on. Now he was going to have to play dress-up doll. What would she do if he told her the slacks might not fit quite right just now? “Can’t you just tell him sizes and colors, and we can buy them and leave?” He followed them toward a room in back.

  “No.” Kenzie gave him a look that said there was no way she’d consider that. “We have to know how they hang, fit, work together.”

  “We have a couple of ties that aren’t out yet that would look great with those shirts,” Evan said. “I’ll go grab them if you’re interested.”

  “You’ve got a good eye for these things.” Scott kept his voice low enough for only Kenzie to hear. “I’m sure they all look great together.”

  She didn’t yield. “Please do.” Kenzie smiled at Evan.

  And Evan was gone again.

  “The faster you get this over with, the faster you can be rid of me for the day.” Kenzie nudged him into the dressing room.

  A shock of want raced through him when her hand brushed his arm, and he tried to ignore it. On second thought, what were the odds he could make the afternoon serve two purposes?

  “They look great. There, we’re done.” His refusal to cooperate lacked conviction.

  Her lips drew into a thin line. “It won’t kill you to try them on.”

  Inspiration was pulsing through him. He grabbed her wrists loosely, inhaling sharply at the heat of her skin against his palms, and tugged her into the dressing room. He kicked the door shut. “I think I need help.”

 
He kept his grip casual enough to let her pull away, and desire throbbed under his skin when she smiled instead of trying to leave.

  She grabbed the bottom of his shirt, palms brushing his bare waist, her voice low. “The whole concept of buttons has you confused?”

  He hissed at the teasing contact, and dipped his head next to hers, lips hovering near her ear while he whispered, “You’re sweet to play along, but you know what I think we should do instead?”

  She shook her head. “You mean you don’t really need help trying on clothes?”

  “Probably not. Instead, I think we should pretend we’re those two people from the coffee shop last weekend. The two who are practicing not being frigid.”

  She licked her lips, but didn’t close the distance between them. “That sounds distinctly counterproductive and unprofessional.”

  “So why are you still here?” He took a step back. “I can probably figure out the buttons myself.”

  “Probably?” She closed the distance between them.

  “Maybe.” His pulse was screaming in anticipation. He trailed his fingers down her spine, coming to a rest in the small of her back and holding her close. “Maybe not.”

  Her “I think I should supervise” was breathy.

  He tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged, her gasp spurring him on. His mouth slid down her throat, her pulse racing and throbbing against his lips.

  Someone knocked on the dressing room door. “I have those ties,” Evan said.

  “Great.” Scott’s reply came out gruffer than he expected. “Leave them out there, and we’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

  *

  Kenzie was more irritated than she expected with the interruption. The hungry growl in Scott’s reply sent desire screaming through her. She shouldn’t be doing this, it was so very wrong. But his strong hands and the way he’d controlled the situation from the moment they’d walked into the store had every inch of her begging for more.

  “Now that he’s gone…” He turned his full attention back to her, tugging her hair and kissing her hungrily. She bit back a whimper and ground against him. His arousal dug into her hip, making the warmth between her legs spread.

  His hands slid down her sides, past the edge of her skirt, and he pushed the hem up, fabric biting into her skin and burning with friction as it rose over her hips. He let out a short laugh and grazed her neck with his teeth. “Knowing that you’re wearing these thigh-highs makes it so hard to behave myself.”

  She leaned her head back, gasping as he sucked on the skin between her neck and shoulder. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Not even close.” He lifted her leg and hooked it around his hip, stepping back close enough to the bench to let her rest her foot on it. His hand glided up the back of her thigh, his skin rough against hers. His fingers brushed the edge of her butt and slid forward.

  “You know.” His whisper caressed the outside of her ear, his voice low and full of want. “I still fantasize about your moans that morning on the beach. What are the odds I can make you that loud again?”

  The power and aggression in his question heightened her arousal. “Not likely. Not here.” Her voice was barely audible even to her own ears. The thrill of being someplace public raced through her, but she wasn’t interested even for a moment in getting caught.

  His chuckle rumbled through the base of her throat as he slid his lips up her collarbone. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  His hand crept around her thigh, brushing the outside of the already damp white cotton that was the only thing keeping him from Kenzie’s ache. She knew what he could do with those fingers.

  He dropped back onto the padded bench behind him. He rested one hand against her butt and pulled her closer. With her foot on the bench he was eye level with her waist. He brushed her skin when he traced a finger along the crotch of her panties and then shoved the fabric aside. His tongue trailed along the same path, and she arched her back at the sensation.

  He found her aching button and flicked back and forth across it. She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning out loud. A wave of disappointment crashed over her when he stopped, but it didn’t last long as he plunged inside her, licking her inner walls. His thumb found its way to her clit instead, massaging hard.

  Climax built inside her rapidly, rushing through her without warning. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding his face close as she thrust against him, legs suddenly growing weak as she peaked.

  She pulled away from his touch slowly, shuddering with each brush of his thumb against the now hyper-sensitive region. A tiny exhale escaped, but still she kept her voice down.

  She was grateful when he ran a hand down the back of her shaky leg and lowered it to the ground. He grabbed a cellophane square from his wallet and rested his hands on her hips, pulling her down so she was straddling his legs and hovering over his lap.

  “Do you have any idea how desperately I want to be inside you right now?” he growled in her ear. “To feel you wrapped around me?”

  She didn’t have a clever comeback, so she pressed her mouth to his, tasting the lingering traces of herself as she kissed him hard enough her teeth scraped the inside of her lips. She reached between their legs to slide down his zipper. He groaned against her mouth when her fingers found his rigid shaft, working it loose from its prison. His hand joined hers, brushing between her legs again as he slid on the condom.

  His head hovered right at the edge of her eager opening, and she let out a sharp gasp when he plunged deep inside, stretching her out and filling her up.

  She rocked slowly against him. His fingers traced up her chest, undoing the top two buttons on her blouse. He sucked and kissed along the exposed skin. Every time he thrust inside her, he hit something deep. His hips ground with increased pace and need, and she rode him to match the intensity. She felt another wave rush through her, this one slower, and clenched her jaw to keep her moans from escaping.

  He slammed inside her, mouth pressed into her chest, her skin absorbing and vibrating from his grunts. She clenched around him as she climaxed a second time, still pushing hard, wanting to ride the feeling out.

  He jerked hard and fast until his rhythm slowed and then came to a stop.

  He rested his cheek against her ribs, breathing heavy. She laid her head on top of his, not able to think of anything to say. That had been such a bad idea. So why didn’t she regret it?

  He slipped out of her as he softened, and after a few minutes, she found the strength in her legs to stand. She struggled to keep her voice even as she straightened her clothes and hair in the full-length mirror behind him. “I should let you try this stuff on.”

  He leaned back, head resting against the mirror, and studied her with an unreadable expression on his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She stepped out of the dressing room and latched the door shut behind her. The department was empty—even Evan had vanished—so why did she feel like everyone in the world knew what they had just done? Even worse, why didn’t she care? Instead, she felt a whisper of guilt at the defeat in the voice of the man she’d left in the other room. Guilt and the overwhelming desire to find the next place they could get away with that. Preferably somewhere she wouldn’t have to be quiet.

  Chapter 8

  Scott tugged on the sleeves of the tailored jacket and stretched his neck. It wasn’t that it didn’t fit well, it just didn’t fit as well as some of those he had in his closet. Still, Kenzie had picked it out, and he was putting on the playing-nice face, so he might as well wear it at least once.

  Besides, they were meeting with Hank Cartee, and Scott wanted to reinforce the fact that he was obeying the board’s edict.

  Zach joined him on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, looking him up and down with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do, buy a suit at Nordstrom?”

  They always met about ten minutes before business dinners to make sure they were both on the same page. Scott shrugged. “I’m just do
ing what my keeper tells me.”

  Zach shook his head. “Right. A department store suit is the way to do this right?”

  Scott smirked. His best friend had the same appreciation for the European suits that Scott did, but sometimes Zach was too much of a snob about the whole thing. Scott ran his thumbs under the lapels of the double-breasted jacket. “Kenzie picked it. She’s proud of herself.”

  Zach didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he nodded toward the parking lot. “Speaking of.”

  She was strolling toward them in heels that put her at eye level with Scott. Her black dress hugged her curves and flared out at the hips, ending just below the knees. A shrug topped her outfit off, ending below her breasts and making the outfit look professional but alluring. He hoped she was wearing stockings like the other day. The memory was enough to add a layer of ambivalence to his dread about the night ahead. Something inside still ached when he remembered how she’d pulled away abruptly after they’d finished in the dressing room.

  Zach let out a soft whistle. “Damn.”

  Scott elbowed him. “Keep it down.” But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her hair was pulled back, with just a few strands left loose in soft ringlets to frame her face. Her blue eyes locked on his as she drew within earshot, and she flashed him a quick smile before ducking her head and turning away.

  “What’s she doing here?” Scott’s question was barely a whisper.

  Zach smirked at him. “She’s our insurance policy. Proof that we’re doing what Cartee wanted.”

  “Gentlemen.” Kenzie extended her hand, greeting Zach first and then Scott. She kept her distance from both, and her voice was cool and calm.

  “Ah, the men of the hour.” A booming voice bounced off asphalt.

  Scott hid his wince and pasted a grin in place as Hank Cartee approached. The other man was several inches shorter, but just as broad-chested as Scott, and carried himself like he was the only person in a room. His blond hair was thinning on top, but he’d grown it long enough to comb it over, insisting it was surfer trendy. Scott didn’t even know what that meant.