The Rules (4 page)

Shocked and relieved, I nodded my head.

The guy handed me a black bag with a grin. He waggled his eyebrows in a way that did not even make me flinch anymore. And when he said “enjoy” as I left the store without uttering a word, I did so without vomiting all over his floor.

Yep. Cade Alexander was a dick. A complete asshole of the largest variety known to man. And now I had to drive to his house and deposit the implements of his sickness inside. I would have to go to his kitchen and put several items in the refrigerator.

I would not, however, breathe while I was inside. I no longer had any interest in knowing what his world smelled like. I would not allow myself to glance anywhere unnecessary. My absurd infatuation with Cade Alexander was over. Done. Complete.

And after I gave my two weeks’ notice, I would also kindly turn down any requests that came from the seventh floor. If Moriah or any other employee wanted to utilize my services for the next two weeks, so be it. But I wasn’t about to face the owner of Alexander Technologies ever again.

Chapter Three

What I did not expect, because it never once the entire day occurred to me, was that Cade Alexander would actually be in his home when I arrived. Even more to my shock was the fact that he was the one to open the front door when I knocked.

I wasn’t at all sure who was going to be home at the time, but I assumed some cleaning crew or a maid or a butler or even a dog sitter. Not Mr. Alexander himself.

I stood frozen in my spot outside his front door, my hands laden with his sick gatherings. The fact that I’d insisted on making only one trip from the car was utter insanity. And now I stood burdened by his wares, speechless and angrier than I could ever remember feeling.

Mr. Alexander smiled. The asshole actually smiled. “You’re fast. I thought it would take you longer than that.”

I made no comment while he flung the door wider, grabbed the cooler from my arms and several bags that were hanging from my fingers, and turned to pad deeper into his home. “Come on. Follow me.”

I found my voice fast. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll just leave these things and be going. I still have a lot to do at work this afternoon.” I leaned into his house far enough to deposit the rest of the assortment of bags, careful to set the ones containing seventy-five dollar bottles of wine gently on the hardwood floor.

“Amelia,” he called from deeper inside. “Follow me.”

I righted myself and peered into the house at nothing but his large foyer. Mr. Alexander had disappeared. The last thing I wanted to do was enter his home. Now or ever.

But he’d practically commanded it. And now he was nowhere to argue with. If I simply shut the front door and left, I would probably piss him off.

Not that I could possibly piss him off more than he had me.

I waited, hoping he would return when I didn’t heed his demand to
follow
.

Burned into my brain was a new image now, one I could have done without. Cade Alexander owned more than suits and ties. The man had opened the door in low-hanging faded jeans that hugged his hips perfectly. Designer jeans, but still. And the T-shirt he had on was also made for his body. It pulled tight across his pecs in a way that made my mouth water in spite of my anger. Damn him. And the worst part—his feet were bare.

No. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was his fucking awesome ass I’d had the privilege of watching as he left me in the doorway.

Now I did moan. Still he didn’t return. He also didn’t yell for me to heel like a puppy again. Something about the way he’d invited me in hadn’t sounded at all like an invitation. It had sounded like a demand.

I suspected he was used to getting his way. Naturally, otherwise why would I have spent the morning and half the afternoon running all over town buying things for his lazy ass because he was too uppity to purchase his own shit for his own fucking girlfriend?

Taking a deep breath, and having absolutely no alternative option, I reluctantly entered Mr. Alexander’s home and shut the door. I picked up the bags I’d carefully set on the floor and proceeded across the foyer.

When I stepped into my boss’s kitchen, my heart stopped.

I was no gourmet cook, not even close. I hadn’t had enough time in the last six years to properly learn to cook much of anything. But I did appreciate a fine kitchen when I saw one.

This kitchen was on a level I’d never contemplated except perhaps on reality TV shows. Everything was stainless steel or white. The granite counter was a swirl of grays and whites. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling above a center island at least eight people could comfortably sit around for a meal. The floor was gray tile that bumped up against white cabinets.

Hell, the refrigerator was so wide, I wondered what one man needed with that much cold space.

When Mr. Alexander opened the door to set the groceries inside, I discovered one man didn’t actually need that space at all. It was almost empty. Which answered my next question. Did my boss live here alone? Apparently so because I couldn’t think of anyone I knew who would live off as little food as he had in stock.

If I hadn’t arrived with the fixings for tonight’s dinner, I assume any occupant would have starved or ordered pizza.

“Sit, Amelia,” Mr. Alexander ordered, nodding at one of the many stools spaced around three sides of his island. I stared at the chairs, wondering how they would ever be spaced so perfectly again after I moved one of them. The house looked more like a display home than someplace a person lived.

“I really should get back to the office, sir.”
Please let me leave
.

I was concerned about breathing any more of his air than strictly necessary. Images burned themselves in my head faster than my brain could take the snapshots. Forget the kitchen and its accoutrements. The man currently bent over with his head inside the fridge was enough to keep me up late for more nights than I wanted to ponder.

His ass was the finest I’d ever drooled over. I shook my head to erase the image and looked away. I was supposed to be pissed.

Hell, I
was
pissed. Freakishly annoyed with this man.

When he turned around, I had not yet moved from my spot. In fact, I still held the final bags I’d carried into the kitchen.

Mr. Alexander smirked and shook his head. “You don’t follow directions very well, do you, baby?”

Baby
? Did he just call me
baby
?

I was not his baby. I was nobody’s baby. I never intended to be.

Then why did the term of endearment and the way it slid off his tongue make me squeeze my legs together and bite my lower lip?

“Sir, I—”

“Amelia, you’ve been running around all day.” He nodded at the bags as he approached me. When he took the rest of the items from my hands, his fingers grazed over mine, sending sparks up my arms and making me rub the goose bumps from them the moment he stood back. “Sit on the stool. I’ll get you a drink.”

A drink? Was he crazy? There was no way I wanted a drink of anything. That would take too long. I wanted to get out of there.

He turned to set the rest of the bags on the kitchen table several yards away and then lifted his gaze back to me. “
Sit
.” His command was more forceful that time.

Without hesitating, I stepped on the bottom rung of the center stool and lifted myself onto the seat. I squeezed my legs together and gripped my hands in my lap. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

A deep inhale was a mistake on my part. After my calculated effort to not inhale Mr. Alexander’s space, I had lost the battle. I already had an inkling what he smelled like from Friday night. Now I was inundated with his scent and that of his squeaky clean house.

Lemon was the predominant clean smell. Mr. Alexander’s personal choice in aftershave covered it, lingering in the air in a way that tantalized me. I hated being aware of that fact.

“Did you have any problems?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“With the list. Did you encounter any difficulties?”

“Oh. No, sir. I found everything.” I found way too many things
. I now know way more about you than I ever wanted to know about another human being, especially my boss
.

I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming at him that he was an evil asshole. I wanted to get this done and get out of there.

Mr. Alexander headed for the kitchen cabinets and grabbed two wineglasses from the rack hanging beneath them. Totally awesome. I wanted to own something like that one day.

“You’re pissed.” His mouth curved up in a grin on one side.

“Uh…”
Shit
.

“Why are you mad, Amelia?”

“I’m not mad, sir,” I lied. Well, actually it wasn’t really a lie. The word to describe how I felt was significantly stronger than mad.

He chuckled. “Really now?”

“No. I’m fine. I really should get back to the office.” I swiveled in my seat, but my boss pinned me with his gaze.

“Stay still. Stop fidgeting.”

Fidgeting? In a second I was going to start launching things at him. Forget fidgeting. He was on my last freaking nerve.

I froze, however, mesmerized by the way he operated the most fantastic corkscrew I’d ever seen. Every muscle in his bare arm engaged in the activity as he leaned into the bottle, and then with a sharp pop, he had the wine open. Before I could utter another syllable, he’d poured two glasses and handed me one. “It’s not as good as the Corton Charlemagne you picked up for me, but it’s still a fine wine.” He took a sip.

I stared at him and then at the glass sitting on the island in front of me. He’d lost his mind if he thought I was going to have a drink with him. It was barely two in the afternoon, and I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

Mr. Alexander leaned both elbows on the counter and met my stunned gaze. He smiled and held that look for what seemed like an eternity. “My God. You’re precious.”

My eyes widened and my mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He pointed at the wine in front of me. “Take a drink, baby. I’m hoping it will keep you from grabbing one of my pans and whacking me over the head.” He pointed above my head.

Why hadn’t I thought of that fine idea? I might need to take him up on the idea if he didn’t let me go soon. “Sir, with all due respect, it’s two in the afternoon. I have more work to do, and I have to drive. I can’t drink wine before doing either.”

“You’re done for the day. I’ll have Arthur take you home when the time comes.”

Who the hell was Arthur? I shook my head as though dazed.

Mr. Alexander lifted his glass again and hummed as he took his next sip. He swirled the clear liquid around in the glass and then held it up to the light. “Delicious.”

The side of the island my boss stood on had a stove top with six burners. Mr. Alexander grabbed a pan from over his head next and set it on the stove, flipping on the burner and adjusting it to whatever temperature he had in mind. “Wine, Amelia. You’re going to need it.” He raised his brows and nodded at my untouched glass.

“Mr. Alexander—”

“Cade,” he interrupted. “Or I like the way you call me Sir.” Now he grinned. “But Mr. Alexander is reserved for the boardroom or my father.”

He liked the way I called him
sir
? What the hell?

“Okay, sir, I really should be going.”

“Amelia.” He looked exasperated. “Stop arguing with me for one minute and relax. Drink your wine while I cook.”

Cook? Every single thing he said added to my shock and discomfort.

“You must be starving. As fast as you got here, I’m sure you never paused to eat lunch. I haven’t eaten either. We’ll eat together.”

I needed to put an end to this. And fast.

Before I could utter another word, I noticed what my boss was doing, and my heart nearly beat out of my chest.

Cade Alexander pulled the potato dish from the refrigerator and stuck it in the oven. He set the prawns on the island next to the stove and plopped the bag of green beans in the microwave.

He was about to feed me the very meal I just picked up from the store? I’d dropped into a bad episode of the Twilight Zone.

“Sir. What are you doing?”

He grinned his huge smile at me, his dimples making my knees weak. “Making lunch.” He tipped his head to one side as though what he was doing was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I assumed this food was for later, sir.” I could have smacked myself in the forehead for saying that, but it slipped out unbidden. I also grabbed the glass of wine from the counter and took a long drink from it. Who the fuck cared if I was driving? At that point I needed the fortification more than anything. I had no idea why I was still in my boss’s kitchen letting him bully me into doing his bidding, which right now included sitting still and drinking wine.

I could do that.

I didn’t want to do it.

But I could do it.

“But you’re hungry now, right?” He lifted one eyebrow and smirked again. It seemed as though most of what he said included some sort of inside joke I was not privy to.

“I am, but—”

“Then now is when we shall eat.”

Confusion over my assumed idea that he had a woman coming over tonight clouded my brain. Perhaps I was wrong about that. Either that or he was feeding me her food and she was going to go very hungry later. Because he sure didn’t have another meal planned for the near future out of that fridge.

Nothing managed to explain the other items I picked up along the way, however.

As though Mr. Alexander read my mind, he dumped the prawns into the oil in his now-heated pan and turned to the kitchen table. A moment later he returned with the roses. He set them on the island, removed the packaging, and then arranged them all in a vase he pulled from below the counter. He turned to add water, giving me another excellent view of his ass and the wide expanse of his back, which flexed and pulled with every movement, until my mouth went dry and I had to look away to avoid drying my eyes out.

Mr. Alexander set the vase on the table and removed other items from the bags. He made a pile of them on the end of the table. The small long box from the jeweler, the larger square box from the lingerie store, and the medium-sized black wrapped box from the fetish shop. That last one made me shiver and look away.