Please (Please #1) (5 page)

“Well, not exactly out in the
open
, since I assumed the law prevents medical records from wandering out of doctors’ offices…”

We turned onto a two-lane road. Trees loomed to either side, the car nearing the national state park. We slowed to a crawl as we turned into a mostly empty parking lot. The driver slid the gear to park and hefted himself from the vehicle. My door opened a moment later.

After we exited the car, Hunter glanced at the bag draped over my shoulder. “You can leave your bag—you won’t need it.”

I clutched my bag for a moment, deciding. He just wanted to talk, sure, but the last time we’d met, he’d just wanted to interview me. It ended with his hands in a place they didn’t belong, and then me sprinting from the room.

I didn’t have high hopes this meeting would go any better.

“I’m fine.” I hitched the strap a bit higher on my shoulder.

Hunter’s gaze intensified, burning into me. Power emanated from him, the command in his bearing pressuring me. My bones vibrated, wanting to comply. But I knew, without knowing how, that all it would take would be that one yes. Just the one, however trivial, would crush any future resistance. I had to hold out until we finished this meeting and I could get on my way.

My grip tightened and my chin rose. My voice trembled as I repeated, “I’m fine.”

H
unter glanced
at the large man who was standing by my door. Without a word, the man shut the door and moved to the trunk. He removed a large, wheeled suitcase with pockets on the side and front. An extendable handle pulled up from the back. Another piece of luggage came out, this one smaller and with a strap. The man looped it over his shoulder before shutting the trunk.

“We’ll be there momentarily,” Hunter told his employee.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Carlisle.” The man started forward.

“You had questions.” Hunter motioned for me to walk, striking up a casual pace in the direction his man had trudged.

“Look, Mr. Carlisle—”

“Hunter, please, when I’m off work.”

Was this man ever off work?

“Fine. Hunter. I really appreciate the offer, and I realize it’s a highly coveted position, but I think you’re wasting your time with me.”

“I know exactly what I am doing with you, Olivia.”

Excitement bubbled up my insides. My knuckles were white where they gripped my bag. I didn’t dare respond—not after the fiasco from the car ride here. I didn’t want to know what else he knew.

A few quiet minutes later, we happened upon Hunter’s meaty helper placing the last of the food items in an elaborate picnic setup. A white cloth draped across the table. An array of cold cuts spread across what looked like a silver tray. Real silver, too—the kind that needed polishing. And in this case, often got it. Various types of breads adorned another silver tray. A porcelain bowl held a fruit salad, another had potato salad, and a last tray beckoned me closer with chocolate items. A bottle of white wine chilled in a silver canister, and two places were set with finery that might appear on a fancy dinner table.

“How did you fit all this in the suitcase?” I asked in wonder.

“The suitcase looks smaller when Mr. Ramous carries it.” His eyes sparkled, but the smile didn’t reach his lips.

“I’d wager someone is an excellent packer, too. You’re obviously a pro. Do you use this setup to snag love interests, or something?” I belatedly realized how that sounded. “Not that I’m…you know. I didn’t mean—”

Hunter’s firm touch found the small of my back, directing me forward. “I don’t have love interests, Olivia.”

He deposited me in front of one of the place settings as the large man, Mr. Ramous, poured me a glass of wine. The liquid glittered in the afternoon sun.

Hunter sat opposite me, focused and intent. “I’d like to hear your questions.”

“I don’t know that it really matters at this point…”

He continued to stare, waiting.

I sighed in resignation. “Okay, well, Kimberly hadn’t mentioned a starting salary. I realize that isn’t something an applicant usually asks in an interview, but this isn’t a traditional position, so…”

Without balking at the sometimes touchy subject, he answered, “Starting salary is a hundred and thirty thousand a year. You’d start fully vested, which means you have some stock options and the possibility of a bonus at the end of the year.”

My heart clattered against my ribcage. Oh what I could do with that much money, living as frugally as I lived. A lot, that was what I could do. I could do an awful lot.

“Benefits would be one of your questions, I am assuming?” Hunter asked. Humor lightened his tone. My glee at that much money probably showed on my face.

“Miss Jonston,” Mr. Ramous cut in politely. He stood beside me. “Would you like me to make you a sandwich?”

I blinked at the large man. My mind was still whirling on figures, and new handbags, and a new wardrobe. Oh, and paying school loans—I shouldn’t forget that…

“Yes, go ahead, Mr. Ramous,” Hunter answered. “Best stick with turkey.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Benefits, yes,” I said in a dream as I imagined telling Jane I was moving to a nicer place. That’d shock her. She thought I was a few weeks away from living on the streets.

Maybe even a designer handbag just so I can fit in with Kimberly’s friends once in a while. Those things can’t be
too
expensive, can they? If I just bought one, it wouldn’t be terrible…

“We have excellent benefits with very little copay,” Hunter said. “Lunch is catered every Friday for office associates, and breakfast every Wednesday. We were voted number three for Best Places to Work in the Bay Area this year, and number five last year. Positions within my company are highly sought after, and our turnover rate is low.”

He didn’t have to manipulate me; he was showering me in perks and greenbacks. The other job didn’t come close to
any
of this. I’d hardly be able to live on its salary, the benefits weren’t super, and the lunchroom was barely stocked with coffee…

Mr. Ramous put a sandwich on my plate. Without asking, he spooned a heap of potato salad next to it. I let him, desperately trying to remember those hard-hitting questions I’d prepared for the interview.

“Work hours?” I asked hesitantly.

“I work long hours, as you probably know. I require my admin to start at nine, sharp. Sometimes she’s able to leave at six, and often she can leave for a lunch break. It’s more usual, however, that she leave closer to eight. She might work one of the weekend days, but get at least one day off unless in dire circumstances.” Hunter stopped talking and glanced at Mr. Ramous. “That’ll be all, Mr. Ramous. I’ll text you when we’re through.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Ramous started walking toward the car. When he was out of sight, Hunter’s deep brown eyes came back to me. “In a usual situation, I would generally require one day a week, approximately a half-hour to one hour, for sexual activity. I rarely demand more, and I ensure pleasure is both given and received. I don’t respond to sexual advances from my admins, and would consider it a breach of contract if she continued to give them after a light warning. If I don’t satisfy her sex drive, I ask that she fulfill it elsewhere. When I cannot deny my own urges, I seek her out.”

The buzz of a bee floated by. Leaves rattled, disturbed by the light breeze.

The man had given me a staring problem.

“But your fiancée…” I said, trying to ignore the heat in my body.

“Has also signed a contract. Our situation is a truce with my father and an alliance with her family. We lead entirely separate lives.”

I shook myself out of my stupor before leaning back. This was all just nuts. He was doing a great job of selling his proposed situation like it was completely normal—like everyone had contracts allowing their boss to get grabby—but I wasn’t buying it. He was bat-shit crazy. No two ways about it.

I glanced away to the side, pulling my attention away from him. It was time for the eject button. “While the money does sound great, and I wouldn’t care about the hours, I do care about other things. I’ll be taking another job, but thank you for going through all the trouble to answer my questions.”

“If you’re talking about the IT position in McCannon Industries, that position has been put on hold for the foreseeable future. There is no other job, Olivia. I’m what you’ve got.”

My world bled of color for a moment as what he said sank in. “What do you mean, it’s
on hold
?”

He took a sip of his wine before answering. “We both know that that position would neither challenge you, nor pay you fairly. It’s a waste of your talent. Please listen to my offer. If you then decide it isn’t for you, I can place you in a position elsewhere in my company. There’s no reason to waste your time with companies like McCannon.”

I pushed my plate away, bracing my hands against the table. “First of all, that’s none of your business. You don’t get to decide how I spend my time. And second, I’ve heard your offer, Hunter. I heard it, I felt it, and I rejected it.”

Those smoldering eyes hardened. “That was a standard offer. I’m prepared to offer you a trial period. One month, Olivia. One month with no personal contract whatsoever, except for the secrecy clause. I will ask the usual hours, but I will not touch you. This will be purely professional, like my relationship with Brenda. At the end of that month, you can decide if the benefits will be worth that personal contract. If not, then we’ll discuss where else in the company you’d rather be placed. You’ll receive pay as though my admin for that month, but if you choose to go elsewhere, we can talk about pay scales and benefits at that time for the various positions that interest you.

“I consider this an extremely generous offer, one that I’ve never made to anyone else. I want you, Olivia. And yes, part of me wants to touch you. I want to hear you whisper my name when you give in to your desires. But I can ignore that if it means you’ll give this job a try. Just a try. It isn’t so much to ask.”

He paused, heat and determination in his eyes. He leaned toward me possessively. “Will you work for me?”

My heart thumped, begging me to give in. Desire warred with logic. Lust overshadowed coherent thought.

The tug of his charisma couldn’t be ignored. It sucked me in. I was lost.

“Yes,” I heard myself whisper.

O
n Monday
I walked into that large, stately high rise for the third time. This time when I checked in, it was as an employee. Hunter Carlisle’s employee.

I didn’t know if this was a good idea, but it was done now. I didn’t have any other options—he’d made sure of that. And while in personal life, I might’ve been angry, in business, I wasn’t surprised. He’d outmaneuvered me, plain and simple. He probably did it all the time in his profession, and if I ever wanted to climb the ladder, or get back at him, I’d have to start paying attention.

I approached Brenda with a hesitant step and a tight hold on my trusty blue bag. She glanced up when I got close, looked back at her computer, clicked the mouse a few times, then stood. “Welcome, Miss Jonston—may I call you Olivia?”

“Yes, of course. Or Livy.”

She nodded and swung her hand toward the desk next to hers. “Have a seat. And congratulations. You’ve landed a highly sought after position. I expect great things from you.” She stepped around her desk and shooed me into mine.

I put my bag down as I sat into my new seat. Waiting until I was comfortable, she continued, “Mr. Carlisle mentioned you’d probably want two monitors?”

“Oh.” I looked at the moderate-sized screen in front of me. I’d never had a real job before, so in truth, I had no idea what I needed.

Brenda must’ve noticed my blank look, because her lips pursed. “We’ll get you two.” She pointed at the sleek, brand-new laptop sitting in the middle of the desk. “That is set up with your user ID and password. The computer bag is behind you—Mr. Carlisle said you might like to work remotely on occasion, or take your work home. I’d have to advise you to be careful with that. He’s demanding, and he’ll ask for everything you have. If you don’t learn the word ‘no,’ he’ll work you into the ground.”

She was a little too late with that advice. “Got it.” I gave her a thumbs-up.

She returned the sentiment with a tight smile. Possibly the thumbs-up was a little weird. “Get yourself settled, and then report to Mr. Carlisle.”

I wished, just once, the butterflies, tingles, or shivers wouldn’t overrun me when I heard Hunter’s name. Just one time.

I busied myself setting up my computer. That done, I checked over the pens, which I hoped I wouldn’t have to use very often, and took a quick glance at the company intranet. Hunter’s flawless face popped up immediately with the title “A Note from the CEO.” Unlike most CEO portraits, he wasn’t smiling. He didn’t need to. It seemed like he was staring out of the picture, directly at me. He was as photogenic as he was charismatic. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Some things just weren’t fair.

I was just about to lock my screen and search for a notepad when an instant message popped up.

H
unter Carlisle
: Good morning.

“
G
ood God
!” I yanked my hands away from the keyboard as though his head had popped out of the screen like a poltergeist.

“You okay?” Brenda asked, walking toward my desk with two coffee mugs. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d left.

“Oh yeah. Sure. Ha.” I leaned toward the computer. Hopefully she’d lose interest in my ridiculousness if she thought I was working. Regardless that I had nothing to work on.

O
livia Jonston
: Hi.

Olivia Jonston: Good morning.

Hunter Carlisle: When you have a chance, come in here.

Olivia Jonston: Yes, sir.

“
H
ere you go
.” Brenda set a full cup of coffee down in front of me.

“Oh. Thanks.”

She gave me another tight smile. “That’s for Mr. Carlisle. One of your duties is to take him coffee. I get him a cup when I refill mine, and his assistant takes it in.”

“Oh.” I wanted to ask why we needed an assembly line for a cup of coffee, but thought better of it. I didn’t need to get fired on my first day.

I grabbed a notepad and pen, and then the cup. “Great.”

Walking into his office, nervousness ate away my insides. My new boss sat behind his desk, broad and handsome. His face was set in a stern mask as he typed, completely focused on his task.

I stopped at the edge of his desk and held out his coffee. “Brenda wanted me to give you this…”

He glanced up. Those sexy eyes took me in for a brief moment before noticing the mug. “Just put it down and have a seat.”

His desk had three neat piles of paper, a few items that I’d previously knocked to the ground, and his computer stuff.

I eyed the legs of the visitor chairs. Knowing me, I’d be distracted by something, trip on one of those chair legs, and dowse his desk with coffee. Bad idea. Taking the safe way out, I put his mug on the corner where it was likely to do the least amount of damage. Then I sat down.

“I wanted to explain the loose structure of this office,” he started, clicking his mouse before turning to me. “You, as the administrative assistant, report to me. I will give you instruction directly, or I will pass you off to Brenda, who is my executive assistant, for instruction. At the moment, you two are not equal. She has years of experience working with me, and knows her job inside and out. In the future, if you get to grips with your job, and take on more, I’m sure you two will level out. That’s my hope, anyway. Regardless, you’re both integral to this operation, and you are both—or will be—on an equal footing as far as I am concerned. Is that clear?”

I tapped my notebook with the tip of my pen and frowned. “Yes.” Seemed pretty logical so far.

“What’s the problem?”

My brows shot up and my eyes widened. I stammered, “N-nothing.”

“Did your frown mean you have a problem with answering to Brenda?”

I felt like I’d been caught stealing. “Not at all, no! The delivery was just so heavy-handed. She has a higher title, so the fact that we’d eventually be equal was unexpected.”

His shoulders relaxed just a little. “I’ve had problems with admins treating Brenda as a subservient member of my staff. I don’t want that to happen with you.”

I bobbed my head in understanding.

“Today you’ll be doing menial tasks—copying, filing, getting coffee.”

“Great.” I quietly tapped my pen. I was getting a huge paycheck—I’d shine Brenda’s boots if he wanted me to.

“Brenda has a list for you to do, and you can address any questions to her. When you’re finished, check in here again. I’ll have something for you.”

“Okey-dokey.”

“Questions?”

“Nope. I think I got it.”

He looked at me silently. I felt the heat rush to my face before spreading through my body, basking in that sexy look of hooded, smoldering eyes. If I’d signed that contract, he could ask me to stand right now, lean over the desk, and—

“Are you okay?”

“What?” I stood in a rush, clutching the notepad to my chest. “Sorry. Is that all?”

He continued to stare. Apparently his “you’re excused” was a silent one.

“So…no, then.” I paused in a half-turn to indicate I was leaving, just to be sure. His face didn’t so much as twitch.

“Right,” I mumbled as I finished the turn with a hot face. A “goodbye,” or even “get out,” wouldn’t go amiss. It would cut down on the time I spent remembering his hard body pressed against mine. Or my crazy yet insistent desire to have him take me right there.

What have I done taking this job?

I
t turned
out Brenda’s “list” was three sheets of paper filled with menial tasks. She showed me where the copy machine was, pointed out the conference room, and then gave me a quick tour of the kitchen. Being at the top of the building, the floor was more a suite than anything, and we were the only people in it. It made things a lot quieter than I expected.

After I finished the first task of making copies, I carried the stack of desecrated trees to Brenda. I couldn’t help an offhanded comment about digital files. It would save so much time.

I could tell her first impulse was to ignore me. I wouldn’t have minded—my mother had made an art out of ignoring me, so I was used to it. As she took the gigantic stack, though, she slowed. Thoughtfully, she looked at me over her glasses. “Digital files, huh? What would be involved in that?”

My confusion was probably written all over my face. “You mean… Like… Sorry, what do you mean? Like how do you do it?”

Brenda dropped the stack next to the file cabinets and straightened up, surveying me. “You said it would save time…?”

“Well…yeah.” I cocked a hip. I felt like we were speaking a different language. My education had led me to believe this was common knowledge. “I mean, you have to scan it if it isn’t already a digital file, which is largely the same as copying it, but you can do that right to the file, right? And then, after that, you just…have it in a file.”

“But we’d both need access…” She let her words linger.

“So, yeah, you just label it, put it in a file we both have access to on the public drive so the company has a backup, and Bob’s your uncle. No more filing by hand.”

“Hmm.” Brenda wrote something down on a Post-it. “You just gave yourself something to do.”

I nearly sighed. I should’ve expected that. Talk about menial, mind-numbing tasks…

A
t five o’clock
, after I’d crossed off the last of Brenda’s wish list, I dragged myself into Hunter’s office. My mind was numb, it felt like drool coated the side of my face, and my eyes were sandy with fatigue. As I approached Hunter’s desk, I noticed the last cup of coffee I had brought him sat untouched at the corner of his desk.

A slight frown creased Hunter’s features as he absently chewed on the end of a pen. My gaze dipped to those lush lips, parted slightly to allow in the black plastic.

“Sir,” I said softly, my gaze moving to the light stubble on his chin.

His face shifted, drawing my stare to his eyes. His frown cleared and fatigue took its place. “Yes. Olivia.”

I continued to stare, hypnotized by those entrancing, smoldering eyes. They looked like he’d just walked out of a bedroom where a satisfied woman lay dozing.

“Olivia?”

“Oh.” I shook myself out of my stupor. “Sorry. I haven’t used my brain much today. It hasn’t come back online yet.”

He fell back into his seat. The dwindling light glowed through the windows behind him. He glanced at his computer. Light surprise lit up his features. “It’s late—you took much longer than I expected to get through Brenda’s list…”

I scoffed. “I added work without meaning to.”

His brows climbed in a question. I elaborated: “I recommended a couple things that would save time in the long run. Unfortunately, it also wasted—um, took my time today to set up.”

“Such as?”

“Electronic filing, rearranging some spreadsheets, a more effective mailing list—rudimentary things like that.”

“Did you eat lunch?”

“Huh?” I couldn’t keep up with the quick change in topic.

“Did you eat lunch?” he asked again, rising.

“No?”

“You’re not sure?” There was a smile in his voice as he shrugged into his jacket.

I watched the play of muscle across his shoulders. If I signed that contract I’d be able to see those without his shirt, I’d bet…

“C’mon. I’ll buy you dinner,” he said, hopefully not noticing the hunger in my eyes. His hand found the small of my back as he guided me out of the office.

Without thinking, I leaned into the touch. Into his heat. His delicious smell, of expensive cologne mixed with masculinity, wound around my senses. His muscle moved against my side, so hard.

My body lit up. My core pooled fire. I wanted to stop and turn to him. To run my hands up his chest before stripping away his shirt.

Get a grip!

In desperation, I peeled myself from his side. “Excuse me,” I said in a breathy voice. “My brain is on hiatus.”

“It’s no problem.” His voice sounded husky. Deeper. I took his hand away.

I wiped my forehead as we entered the elevator, willing my soggy brain to get in gear and stop letting my libido have control. At this rate, I’d commit a cardinal sin by the end of the week!

When we emerged into the encroaching night outside the building, his hand found the small of my back again. Strangely, his firm touch felt comfortable. Safe and reassuring. It felt the exact opposite of what he really was. I couldn’t move away.

He steered me across the street and down the block to a busy Italian eatery. We stopped in front of the opened door. A small crowd of people waited just inside at the hostess desk. A couple of groups lined the front of the building, no doubt waiting for their table.

“Looks packed,” I said.

Hunter didn’t acknowledge my words. Instead, he steered me through the door and stepped around the small hostess podium into the space of the young woman. Her eyes flashed and a smile curled her lips when she saw him. After saying a few words, which were lost to the buzz of the restaurant, he stepped back.

“Five minutes,” he said when he rejoined me. The hostess’ gaze had followed him, the smile being replaced with a scowl as his hand resumed its position on my back. “Would you like to wait outside?”

“But what about everyone else?” I asked quietly.

He barely glanced around as he steered me outside. He loosened his tie, not hiding a tired sigh.

“Long day?” I asked, once again standing too close. I couldn’t help it.

“We have a possible merger on the table. There are a lot of moving parts and long-term effects.”

“Not buying a company, but a merger?” I crossed my arms, aware that a group of three women were sending us furtive glances. My faded black skirt and out-of-style blouse didn’t fit with this upscale crowd.

“Yes, exactly. I have an eye on a buyout that would negate the merger, and be better for the company long-term, but my competition is…steep. The board is less than thrilled.”

“Oh. Mhm.” I didn’t have the brainpower for business-speak. I needed a sandwich.

“Mr. Carlisle?” The hostess stepped out of the restaurant and flashed Hunter a stunning smile. “We’re ready for you.”