Sinful Games (A Checkmate Inc. Novel Book 4) Read online

  Something shifts in my chest when a pair of amber eyes look up at me through stylish, black-framed glasses. Her lips are perfectly painted a bright shade of pink and draw my gaze like a magnet.

  All three founding partners have gotten enough press coverage to be recognizable to the general public, so as I blow past with Dex on my heels, the other applicants still. But not Pink. Her expression is fearless, and one side of her mouth lifts in a subtle smile that says I’m smart and confident, and if you don’t want me as an employee, someone else will.

  I nearly miss a step because I’m so focused on Pink. “Fuck’s sake,” I say under my breath, and keep walking.

  I swear, one young lady who looks barely out of high school lets out a fearful whimper.

  Oh, for the love of God. My reputation, my very presence can’t possibly be that unnerving.

  As I enter my office, Leo bolts out of his chair with his cell to his ear. “I forgot Chloe has a doctor’s appointment in an hour. Today’s the sonogram.”

  Leo married our public relations rep after a whirlwind courtship and got her pregnant on their honeymoon. He knew she was the one soon after they’d met and he just rolled with it.

  I’m happy for my friend, so my gloomy mood lifts long enough for me to say, “Go get ’em, pops.” I slug him on the arm as he passes. I’ll send them a big bouquet of flowers later.

  He thrusts a stack of papers, which I can only assume are the résumés, into Dex’s chest.

  “I hope the poor kid looks like its mother and not its fugly dad.” Dex takes a seat on my office sofa and peruses the résumés. “Seriously,” he yells at Leo’s retreating back. “Don’t worry about us. We’ve got this.”

  Leo stops. “Seriously,” he says to Dex, but nods to me. “Hire someone, and don’t let him fuck it up. The board is all over me about the three of us keeping our noses clean. No scandals. Not even a parking ticket until after the IPO is done. And even then, we have to be the paragon of professionalism, or the board can push us out, remember?”

  Do I ever. It’s one of the pitfalls of taking a company public.

  I’m tempted to remind my partners that of the three of us, I’m the only one who wasn’t involved in the two near misses Checkmate has had in the scandal department. But Leo darts away, so there’s no sense.

  I start to sink into my leather executive chair, the midday sun blanketing my office since the outer wall is also solid glass. Not even Manhattan’s soaring skyline can block out the sunlight on such a clear summer day.

  “Uh uh. Sit over here.” Dex points to the open space on the opposite end of the sofa. “It’s less intimidating than having you behind a desk.”

  I scrub a hand over my face and move to the sofa with a plop. “Intimidating is a good thing when dealing with employees. Otherwise, you end up with someone like Leticia who bosses you around.” Dex, Leo, and I all know we’d be screwed without Leticia. She’s the one who slays dragons for us with her mother hen tone, pointing finger, and that damn iPad. So, of course, I’m joking. Mostly. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Best idea I’ve heard from you in a long time.” Dex hands me the résumé on the top of the stack.

  Hell, I took Leo’s initial dissertation research and built on it, coming up with the lion’s share of new product ideas that’ve made our company successful. “If that were true, we wouldn’t have early investors scratching at our door to gobble up Checkmate stock.”

  Dex scoffs. “They aren’t invested yet. We have a board meeting in a few weeks, and they have to be impressed with our long-term trajectory for the company and our business plan, or they won’t buy in. Which will cause our stock prices to plummet the minute the initial stock offering goes live. Our company could devalue by half if the initial investors don’t snatch up the stock right away.”

  I stare at my buddy in horror as he blurts out our potential demise like he’s talking about the weather. “And people think I’m the dick out of the three of us.”

  Dex taps the résumés. “Leo and I prioritized these for you starting with the best since you couldn’t drag your grumpy ass to our lunch meeting.” He knows I’m not much of a people person, and he’s definitely familiar with my aversion to new people who might get too close and figure out too much about me. So, I don’t make excuses for my absence.

  Leticia sticks her head in. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I spit out with as much enthusiasm as I have when going to the dentist.

  Dex shoots me a censuring look. “Yes, we’re ready. Send in the first interviewee.”

  When the young woman who whimpered walks in, announces her name as Sarah Williams, and offers us a trembling handshake, I’m both annoyed and relieved that Pink wasn’t Dex and Leo’s first choice. Annoyed because Pink was hot as hell, and the instantaneous pull I experienced made me want to look at her a whole helluva lot more. Relieved…well, for the same reasons. Hiring someone I want to eye fuck would be professional suicide.

  We sit, and I let Dex do most of the talking. Besides Sarah’s shaky voice, incessant leg bouncing, and nervous looks that keep darting my way, we get through most of the interview unscathed until Dex asks a stupid question. “What type of person do you work with best?”

  Her eyes flit in my direction. “Um, people who aren’t mean. I don’t like bullies.” It’s obvious she’s talking about me when she glances in my direction and actually flinches.

  Goddammit. I’ve barely spoken. How the hell can she already think I’m mean? And then have the nerve to say so during an interview? “I am not a bully,” I say slowly so I won’t lose my shit. Just because I don’t have the best people skills on the planet doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.

  Okay, admittedly, I can be an asshole, but I’m not intentionally callous or heartless. Or rude. All of those things are purely unintentional on my part.

  Her leg bouncing increases so much I’m sure it could break the sound barrier.

  “No one is saying you’re mean, Oscar.” Dex only uses my full name when he’s pissed or warning me not to unleash the flying monkeys. Pun intended, because you can’t go through life with a nickname like Oz and not suffer through a few jokes.

  “Well…” Her voice wavers, and she wrings her hands, speaking to Dex. “His tone is kind of mean.”

  And they wonder why I prefer to work with Leticia instead of hiring my own assistant. At twenty-nine, I’m not much older than the millennials we’re interviewing, but the generation gap is as vast as the Grand Canyon from rim to rim.

  I can’t help myself. I growl under my breath. “I’m tough.”

  The applicant starts to get up, looking like she might cry. “Maybe this isn’t a good fit. I’m not feeling like this is a safe pla—”

  “You’re fired,” I blurt.

  She whimpers again and covers her mouth.

  “She hasn’t been hired yet,” Dex grounds out.

  “Then I’ve just saved us a lot of trouble,” I huff. “If she can insult me at the same time she’s asking for a job, then she wouldn’t last as my assistant.”

  She flies to the door as though the thought of working for me terrifies her.

  Dex gives me a hard stare. “Nice job. Now you’re firing them before they even start to work for us?”

  Before I can respond, Leticia walks in. “Really?”

  “Maybe he should go apologize,” Dex says like I’m not in the room. “So we don’t get sued.”

  “Apologize for what?” I’m incensed. “She called me names.”

  “You could apologize for being…you,” Dex smarts off.

  “You did most of the talking.” My teeth are gritting. “I stayed quiet.”

  “You’re even more intimidating when you’re silent,” Dex says. “You heard what Leo said about the board, right? We have to keep our reputations squeaky clean.”

  We erupt into a disagreement. I rarely argue with my business partners or Leticia, because I know they’ve got my back no matter what. Bringing someone new into the fold is the quickest way to push my buttons, though. I guess I have trust issues.

  Rightly so, as far as I’m concerned. People can’t be trusted most of the time, so I stick to those few who are tried and true.

  One of our main phone lines starts to ring, and Pink appears in front of my office. She goes to the assistant’s desk and picks up the handset. I can’t hear her, but I fall silent, watching her lips form words.

  Our argument subsides when Leticia and Dex pipe down to follow my gaze.

  Pink fumbles through the desk drawer, retrieving a message pad and pen. Then she jots something onto the notepad.

  “That’s Kendall Tate,” Dex says.

  Leticia heads for the door, obviously to find out why Ms. Tate is answering my phone. I have to admit, I’d like to know myself because it’s pretty bold.

  I fall in line behind Leticia, and so does Dex. We step into the hall just as Ms. Tate says, “I understand your frustration, but I assure you he’s not avoiding you.”

  The person on the other end of the line is talking with such a forceful tone that we can hear him, although the words are jumbled. Somehow, Pink stands her ground with calm composure.

  “You’re very important to him. I’ll see that he gets your message right away and responds as soon as he possibly can.” Then she hangs up.

  Hell, even I believe her, and I don’t know who called.

  When she turns to us, I’m mesmerized by the way her feminine, powder pink business dress molds to her gorgeous curves. The neckline is conservative and lined with a string of old fashioned pearls, yet she makes them look chic. The dress is sleeveless, and her arms are tanned. The hem flirts just above her knees and reveals calves that aren’t overly muscular but still toned.

  Just
the way I like a woman.

  “Your first interviewee blurted this would be the worst place on Earth to work because you’re a…” Pink gives me a neutral look, but amusement glitters in her caramel-colored eyes, and she uses her hands to make air quotes. “Because you’re a ‘meanie’ as she ran through the waiting room in tears to catch the elevator, and the other applicants followed her.” Ms. Tate hands me the pink message slip, and I can’t help but think how the color matches her perfect lips as I anchor my gaze to her mouth. “No one was around to answer the phone, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to help out.” She points to the message. “It was your father, by the way. He sounded…upset.”

  Ms. Tate doesn’t seem the least bit rattled that the others left under such questionable circumstances. Or that the apple might not have fallen far from the family tree. Good, because I hate explaining that I’m not a monster. I just don’t like people very much. Lots of highly intelligent people don’t have interpersonal skills, so sue me.

  Which, apparently, the last interviewee just might do because I offended her.

  Not Ms. Tate, though. It’s so obvious she’s not the type to be cowed by anyone, especially not someone like me, who’s all bark and no bite.

  Suddenly, I start wondering what it would be like to bite the soft spot behind her ear, nibble on her perfectly painted bottom lip, then move lower to find more pink flesh to pull between my teeth.

  Fuck me, but I can’t hire a girl I’m already fantasizing over.

  No idea why, but I don’t feel the typical distrust or suspicion when I look at Ms. Tate. No, my mind doesn’t go there. It swerves in a completely different direction.

  All I can focus on are those pink lips and how much I want to explore them. I want to know her story. I want to know her.

  Hiring her is definitely out of the question.

  So, fuck me all over again when Dex and Leticia both blurt at the same time, “You’re hired.”

  Chapter Two

  My dick hasn’t stopped twitching for three solid days. Not since Dex and Leticia hired Kendall Tate—AKA Pink—as my new assistant. They also threatened to take out a hit on me if I screw it up.

  So, I did what any guy with a decent size set of balls would do. I hid in my lab and buried myself in work. It was either that or ask Pink if I can bury myself in her, which would likely get Checkmate sued, or, at the very least, get my face slapped. Probably both.

  The upside is I’ve put the finishing touches on our new line of products that is sure to make our stock offering soar once we start the prelaunch advertising campaign. The downside is I’ll need to have my new assistant at my side constantly as I ensure the packaging and promotions match the product. It’s what I do. I don’t just develop the products then hand them off without oversight. I walk my babies through each step until they’re ready to ship.

  My business partners call my attention to detail obsessive.

  I call it quality control and remind them that my obsessiveness is a big part of our success.

  Which is why I’m at the office extra early on a Thursday morning, long before anyone else. I’m studying the packaging mock-ups sent up from the Product Management Department.

  I’ve got photos of the prototypes laid out on my desk as I sip coffee that I picked up at my favorite coffee shop on the corner. They get up at the ass crack of dawn just like me and start making my order the second I open the door without me having to ask. I like it strong and black.

  As a joke between friends, Dex and Leo often tell me my choice of coffee matches my usual mood.

  I often call them assholes. And I’m only partially joking.

  I take another drink from the to-go cup, letting the robust flavor roll over my taste buds. Not even the extraordinary flavor and jolt of caffeine can keep me focused.

  I open my desk drawer and withdraw Kendall’s personnel file so I can find out more about her. She’s twenty-six and overqualified for this job. In just a few years, she worked her way up at an event planning company in the city, orchestrating everything from small wedding brunches to large, citywide events for thousands of people, until the company laid her off due to financial problems.

  Why would she settle for an assistant’s position that’s a huge step down the ladder of success?

  The waiting room lights flicker on, and just as she rounds the corner, I pull my attention away from reviewing Kendall’s work experience. She’s holding two cups of coffee in a drink carrier, and a light pink leather purse is hooked into the crease of her elbow.

  She waves and boosts the coffees, indicating one is likely for me.

  Without thinking, I toss my cup into the trash beneath my desk so as not to disappoint her. She went to the trouble of bringing coffee. The least I can do is show some appreciation.

  Goddammit.

  I do not need to show appreciation for a damn cup of coffee. Or for the fact that she’s here, ready and eager to work before anyone else.

  Or for the fact that she’s dressed to kill, just like she’s been every damn day since we hired her.

  I shove her file in the desk drawer and slam it shut as she discards the purse onto her desk and comes to stand in my doorway.

  “Morning, boss.” Her stilettos match the color of her purse. She’s wearing a taupe, polka-dotted dress that fits her like a glove, and my eyes are drawn to the thin, light pink belt that matches her other accessories and forms a small bow right about where her belly button should be.

  I can’t help it. I just fucking can’t. I lick my lips.

  “Morning.” To my surprise, I manage to sound normal, as though I’m completely unaware that she’s a knockout.

  She nods to the drink carrier. “I brought an extra. It’s yours if you want it.”

  Oh, I want it. Unfortunately, I can’t have it. And I’m not talking about the coffee.

  “I could use some caffeine,” I lie like a damn dog. Hopefully, she won’t see the half-full cup in the trash.

  She walks over and sets the carrier on my desk, retrieving her cup and leaving the other for me, along with packets of sugar and cream. “I brought all the fixins.” She stresses the last word with a playful smile and a manufactured southern drawl.

  I’ve done the same thing since I went to a swanky summer camp for rich kids in North Carolina when I was twelve. It irritates my parents, because any twang other than a Hyannis Port-Kennedy accent sounds low class to them. God forbid anyone think we’re middle class or even close. To them, a southern drawl sounds unintelligent and uneducated, which is why I still do it.

  Kendall’s fake accent is cute as hell.

  I almost bite my tongue just for thinking the word cute.

  She takes a step back from my desk and cradles her cup with both hands.

  I hold my breath, hoping she’ll wrap those lush lips, which are painted that exquisite color of pink once again, around the spout of her cup for a sip. Or a long, slow pull. Either would work for me, but I gotta be honest and say I’m rooting for the long, slow pull.

  “I left it black, though, since I don’t know how you like it.”

  The swell in my pants grows larger. That’s saying something since I’m pretty well hung. I’d love to show her how I like it. Even better, I’d love for her to show me how she likes it.

  To calm my racing pulse, I grab the fresh cup of brew. “It’s perfect, thanks.” I shove the cup to my mouth and gulp down more liquid gold.

  And then the most extraordinary thing happens. This woman, who has occupied my every waking moment since I first laid eyes on her and has even taken up residence in my dirty dreams but hasn’t shown an ounce of interest in me beyond her responsibilities as my assistant, lets her gaze wander to my mouth. It stays there, a small part forming between her plump pink lips.

  I still, the cup hovering at chin level. The office is silent since we’re alone, but I swear I hear the snap, crackle, pop of an electrical current in the air shifting and swirling around us.

  “Pink,” I half-whisper. No idea how the hell I let that slip.

  Her brow crinkles, and her unusual amber eyes snap up to meet mine. “Excuse me?”

  Fuck. There’s a line here that I can’t cross. Crossing it could create a scandal, and a scandal is the last thing Checkmate needs right before our stock offering goes public.