Conflict of Interest (11 page)

Kenzie smiled; it did sound like fun. She could meet a guy, ignore his horrid pickup lines, and actually live a little instead of trying and failing. Or at the very least she could hang with her sister and unwind, and if any asshole implied she was a whore, she’d be within her rights to grind her stiletto into his toe and walk away. “All right, I’m in.”

* * * *

Kenzie propped her elbow on the bar and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. She tried to focus on the bottles lining the back wall instead of on Riley, who sat about six seats away, joking and laughing with a man who had bought her at least four drinks in the last hour.

Kenzie didn’t look up when someone took the stool next to her.

“You know,” his voice was warm and deep, with a hint of arrogance, “I don’t normally like women who are taller than me, but the way you wear those heels is just so sexy.”

She hid her wince and turned to face him. This was why she was here after all. He was certainly attractive—close-cut blond hair, pressed shirt, silk tie, and clear green eyes. She gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“What’s your drink of choice tonight?” He nodded at her glass.

“Lime and tonic. I’m the designated driver.”

He winked at her. “You can drive me.”

Scott would have pulled that line off so much better. She hated herself for even thinking it. She needed to give this a chance, right? She was breaking away from the frigid and uptight her. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to have some simple fun with this guy. “You’re horrible.” She giggled and held out her hand. “I’m Kenzie, by the way.”

“Rod.” His grip was strong, almost uncomfortably so, and his palm was cold. “You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

It was her choice to accept or reject, she wasn’t the aggressor anymore. She could do this. “I’m doing better now.”

He ordered her another drink and himself a rum and Coke, paying for both. “So, Kenzie.” His gaze raked over her. “Gorgeous woman like you buying her own drinks? What gives?”

Her skin felt like it was going to crawl off at the leer. He reminded her too much of Cartee. Where was Scott when she needed him? She banished the thought as soon as it surfaced. “My sister.” She nodded over her shoulder. “Said I needed to unwind.” Damn it, she shouldn’t have said that. She knew what was coming even before he said anything. But maybe she’d be wrong. Please let her be wrong. She didn’t want to be disappointed even further.

He looked in the direction she was nodding. “Twins, huh? That’s hot.”

She resisted the urge to slap her forehead. Nope, he’d said it. Why the hell did guys think sisters making out was sexy? “Not so much.” She slid off her stool. “I need to be somewhere else.”

“Wait.” His cold palm against her arm made her skin recoil. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous, you know? Beautiful woman, so I’m trying to play it cool.”

“Yeah, probably a mistake.” She sat anyway. “How about you being you? I like guys who are themselves.” Like Scott. The name echoed in her skull, and she pushed it away. Scott was a child playing the part she told him to. And not even willingly or well. Except for that suit he’d worn to dinner… No that was a bad path to go down. That was business, this was fun.

“I can do honesty. How about this? I’m really not into the random strangers or doing the one-night-stand thing, so I’m trying to pretend I’ll be okay if you don’t call me in the morning, but I’d really like to get to know you better.”

He wanted something long-term, how sweet. She kept her smile pasted in place. Maybe if she pretended to enjoy the conversation, she’d start to believe it was true. He was attractive. He’d hold up to professional scrutiny; she could do the same for him. And then she’d have an excuse to turn Scott down. Not that she needed an excuse. It wasn’t like she couldn’t control herself around him.

She realized he was watching her. Crap, had he said something? He must have, he was waiting for a response. “Beg your pardon?”

He pushed his drink away and stepped from his stool, offering his arm. “It’s a little loud here. Do you want to go somewhere else so we can talk?”

“That sounds nice.” She slipped her hand into his arm, searching for the familiar rush of meeting someone new. It wasn’t there. She was probably still too wired from dinner. She fell into step beside him as he led her outside. The night air and silence rushed in around them, and for a moment she thought she’d gone deaf.

She hesitated.

He looked at her, curious. “Are you all right?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She dropped her hand, letting it hang limply by her side. “I…” She trailed off. What was wrong with her? “I can’t after all. Have a wonderful night.”

She turned toward the parking lot without waiting for a response. She pulled out her phone while she walked and sent her sister a quick message. She didn’t want to ruin Riley’s night too.
I have to bail, I’m sorry. Call a cab. I’ll pay you back for it.

Morning sun warmed Scott’s back as it crested the mountains outside. It crept through the bay window behind him, permeating the shades meant to keep light out but still let people see through the large windows. He stared at the donut in front of him as people chattered in the crowded coffee shop. The wooden chair was one of the few in the eclectic dining area with no padding, but he barely noticed the hard seat against his back.

Every time he thought back to the night before, his blood pressure spiked. He didn’t know if he was more upset with Hank, or with Zach for having the balls to ask Kenzie to stay on. No, he did know. He still wanted to hop the next plane to LA to grind Cartee into a bloody pulp. But this whole publicity facade was a freaking joke. He didn’t even know why he was pretending anymore.

He pushed his donut and coffee aside and pulled out his PSP. He should be game testing. Right. Getting some work done would take his mind off things. He waited for the load screen and clicked into his latest save file. He needed to know if the physics were working on this level, whether or not the game play was too complicated this early on, if the means to defeat the end-level boss were clear without being too obvious…

If he should call Kenzie and apologize, if he should find a way to kick Cartee off the board…

A sniper’s bullet tore through his character, and his screen splattered red. He snarled at the device and set it aside with a sigh. That was only about the twentieth time that had happened in the last half hour. Probably not a good sign.

The jangle of the front door mingled with the chatter around him, and he looked up. His mood twisted into something he couldn’t identify when he saw Kenzie make her way to the counter. Like so many mornings, her hair was in a ponytail, and her sweatshirt was tied around her waist, showing off a white tank top that hugged her perfectly.

And she was staring intently at the menu, jaw set, face tight. No one should look that tense on a Saturday morning. Maybe if the two of them found someplace quiet she’d let him tear that hair elastic out…

He pushed the thought away. It was probably time for him to find a new one-night stand. One that actually only lasted one night.

Or an actual girlfriend, he hadn’t had one of those in a while. Then he could prove he was all mature and shit like was expected of him. That ought to make Kenzie happy. Someone to use him as a dress-up doll twenty-four seven and keep him in line when she wasn’t around. Oh, right, he always got tired of those women ages before they became long-term relationships.

She placed her order and turned, and his hand shot up in a wave before he could talk himself out of it. She hesitated, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, and then wove her way over. She took the seat across from him, sitting up so straight her back never touched the chair.

“Morning.” Her expression was flat.

“Hey.” He hated the lack of anything coming from her, but it was appropriate he supposed. “I’m sorry again about last night.”

“You and everyone but the one guy who should be.” She pursed her lips. “But thank you for stepping in. I wish it hadn’t come to that.”

A question tried to force itself past his lips, and he bit it back. He wasn’t going to ask whether or not she’d decided to stay on. There was no reason to pressure her. Or to even care. If she decided no, he could go back to doing what he wanted when and how he wanted.

“How’s the game coming along?” She nodded at his handheld.

“It’s good. Hopefully a hit, but it’s hard to tell before the sales numbers start coming in.” Disappointment wormed through him, and it took him a moment to realize it was because she hadn’t scolded him yet for the ratty camo pants, or stained white T-shirt, or for playing his game without ear buds, or anything. And she had yet to smile. “So, um, how have you been?”

Her mouth twisted in dry amusement. “It’s been twelve hours. Not a lot has changed.”

A shift in mood, a chink in her shell. He leaped at the chance to widen it. “You’re sure. You haven’t changed jobs, gotten engaged, started a family?”

Her smile threatened to become full-formed. “No. Though there was this guy…”

After less than twelve hours? Why did that send a dull thud through his chest? He kept the reaction from his face, but he couldn’t hold back the subtle dig. “Sounds enticing. I bet he was a spiffy, well-dressed gentleman.”

She gave a small laugh. “Quite. Even better, he told me, and I quote ‘I don’t normally like women who are taller than me, but the way you wear those heels is just so sexy.’”

He’d heard some bad lines in his life, but that was horrible. “He’s got a point, you do look sexy in heels. But you also do those Keds justice, so that’s kind of a toss-up. So the two of you are going to make happy, beautiful public appropriateness together?” Why was he pushing this?

Pink crept over her cheeks, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Large green tea, room for cream?” A voice carried over the crowd, and someone behind the counter held a cup in her direction.

She was on her feet in an instant. “I should go.”

His disappointment grew. Would this be the last time they talked? Was high-heels guy waiting for her at home?

The corner of her mouth tugged up, and then the smile vanished again so quickly he wasn’t sure he’d seen it. “And nothing happened,” she said as she turned away. “Like actual nothing, not the pretend nothing that’s really something with us. I’ll see you Monday. At least wear a clean T-shirt.”

Really something? A wave of relief washed over him, and he wasn’t sure if it was related to the fact she wasn’t quitting or that she hadn’t gone home with another man. He didn’t fight his smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

*

Kenzie poured milk and honey into her tea, stirred it all together, and dropped the stick into the trash. She wasn’t going to turn around. There was no reason to head back to the table and sit and chat. Scott wasn’t on the clock, and it would just ruin the mood if she gave him a hard time for the High Tops that looked like they were only staying on thanks to an act of God.

She sipped her tea as she headed home. Why had she even come here? She knew the answer, but she was loathe to admit it. She’d spent the last twelve hours reminding herself she was done with this job. That she was resigning on Monday. But still she’d convinced herself it wouldn’t hurt to swing by the coffee shop. It would be the perfect reminder of why she needed to quit.

And instead she’d all but said she was staying on. It was the right thing to do. She could teach that jackass Hank Cartee that Scott was a better man and prove herself at the same time. As long as she and Scott kept their hands off each other moving forward.

She navigated the familiar route, finding herself home much sooner than she wanted. She trudged up the steps, trying to figure out how to approach things from here on out.

Her phone chimed, and she pulled up the new email from her boss, Greta. There was a URL and a note:
Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.

Ill-ease crawled through her, and she clicked the link. Her stomach flipped in on itself when she saw the website. Maybe she should have resigned after all.

* * * *

Scott looked up from his work when a shadow crossed his office. Kenzie stood in the doorway wearing slacks, a matching cream jacket, and a dark shirt buttoned all the way to the top. Did it make her head ache to pull her hair back that tight?

Still, she was there. He hid his smile. He was only relieved she was back because it meant more fun and games, right? He nodded to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat.”

Her expression didn’t change. She strolled the short distance to the padded leather, set her laptop bag next to her on the ground, and perched—he couldn’t think of a better word for it—with her legs crossed. “Mr. McAllister.”

Not this again. He kept his tone pleasant, trying to figure out what he was up against. “Good morning. You look nice.”

Her right eye twitched. That was new. She took a deep breath. “Why do you have so many issues?”

The sharp edge in her question sliced through him, and his curiosity shifted to hurt. “Excuse me?”

“I mean publicly, in general.” She maintained her straight-backed posture, expression flat. “You’re not in a high-profile industry, not as far as executives are concerned. You’re not some big-shot Hollywood celebrity. You’re a metaphorical suit. Why do I have to worry about things like photos of you in compromising positions showing up on websites? What’s so special about your personal life that it’s public enough to make your investors nervous?”

She was only just asking these questions? “Shouldn’t you already know that? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“You’d think that. I certainly did.” She managed to pull a manila folder from her laptop bag without bending over and rested it in her lap. “I know it happens, but I want to know why. People care about actors, politicians, public faces. But you’re just a software developer. Why does anyone care how you spend your weekends?”

Just? His eyes narrowed at the accusation and the disdain for his job. What had happened between Saturday and now? Had thinking about the situation with Cartee really soured her this much?