I faced him, narrowing my eyes. “What do you want, Callum?”
“Cal,” he corrected softly, eyes of crushed ice steady as they watched me. “Call me Cal.”
“What do you want?” I asked, ignoring the way his gaze sent heat spiraling through me.
He answered my question with a question: “What will it take for you to be my executive assistant?”
“A traumatic brain injury. Next question.”
“Six months, Deena.”
“Stop saying my name like that.”
He blinked, slow and satisfied. His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Like what?”
He’d backed me into a conversational corner, and he knew it. But he would have to waterboard me to get me to admit that when he said my name, it set off a tiny detonation between my legs. I wasn’t thinking straight. I was never thinking straight when he was around.
“I’m not going to work for you,” I said to save myself having to answer his question.
His tongue slid out to lick his lips, and I fought not to squirm where I stood. I hated what his presence did to me. I hated that I’d given in to temptation on the phone, and now I wasn’t sure where I stood with him. What I wanted with him.
Besides the obvious, of course.
“Okay, I’ll cut you a deal,” he said, setting the red ball down as he pushed off the billiards table. He prowled closer, and my heart took off. He was dressed impeccably, his hair in perfect disarray, his strong jaw clean-shaven. I’d never seen a more attractive man, and I resented him for it. “I’ll stop asking you to work for me if you kiss me again.”
A shocked laugh fell from my lips. “You kissedme, Cal.”
A devilish smile made his eyes light up. “You kissed me back.” He stopped when he was only a few inches away, and I was forced to tilt my head to meet his gaze. A gaze that dropped to my lips fora lingering moment, then slid lower. “I wasn’t lying earlier,” he said quietly. “I like the dress.”
Pleasure squirmed through me. I loved when he complimented me, but I would never admit it. I set my jaw. “I don’t care what you like or don’t like.”
His finger reached out to trace the strap on my shoulder, following the curve down to where my breasts were spilling out of the top. I shivered as he touched the fabric, the edge of his fingertip brushing my chest, but he didn’t stop. “Why won’t you work for me?”
My knees had gone wobbly, and it was becoming difficult to stand. “Because of this right here,” I whispered.
“This has got nothing to do with that.”
I snorted, and his finger continued its journey across to my other breast and up the opposite strap. His touch was feathery and light, but it sent jagged bolts of lightning down to my center. When he dropped his hand to his side, I had to work to hide my disappointment. Some of the fog in my head cleared.
He watched me with those all-seeing eyes. Reading every heartbeat thrumming in my throat. Watching every emotion flit across my face. He was playing with me, turning me on so I’d do anything he asked. The proof was right there in his next words: “Come on, Deena.”
“Why do you want me to work for you so badly? Hire someone else.”
A shadow crossed his gaze. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “There have been a lot of close calls with deals lately. Our travel plans keep getting in the way, and my team isn’t able to keep up.”
“And still no assistant.”
He gave me a flat look. “No.”
“Shocker.”
“You could do it.”
“You expect me to give up my business just to place myself under your thumb?” I laughed incredulously. “I know you’re a rich man who probably waves a hand and gets what he wants, but come on. Get real.”
“Miranda was the best I’ve hired in a while, but she’s not answering my calls.”
“That’s not as surprising as you might think.”
