Conflict of Interest

chapter 16


Scott laughed along with an executive from one company, a head developer, and an enthusiastic fan. He tried to focus on the conversation, but his attention kept drifting to the door. He should have known Kenzie wouldn’t come. They weren’t exactly on the best terms, and her insistence they were still friends had been weak.

Still, he’d hoped she might buy in for such a great cause. Or for work.

He adjusted his battle dress uniform and fingered the fake scar on his face. At least his Solid Snake costume was drawing positive attention. And people were already asking him if he had another in-the-box, never-played video game system from a decade or more ago to auction off. Last year it had been an N64; this year he’d managed to dig up an Atari 2600.

A murmur ran through the room, catching Scott’s attention. He snagged snippets of “no way” and “hot”, drawing his attention to the door.

The woman near the entrance was tall. In the four-inch stilettos she was probably a hint taller than him. The back latex covering her skin and matching face paint obstructed who she was. But the way the black miniskirt hugged her waist, the wide gold belt, the gold bikini top, the blonde hair falling around her shoulders and down her back … Scott knew exactly who it was.

Unless she’d sent her twin in her place, but he doubted that.

“Drow’s not a video game character,” a man nearby complained.

“Invitation said game character,” a woman corrected him. “Besides, she’s hot. I’m not complaining.”

Scott bit back a smile, eyes meeting Kenzie’s across the room. Her expression remained flat, and she made a straight line to him, not pausing for anyone.

Scott still couldn’t take his eyes off her. Wow. She’d showed. And please let her leave alone if it wasn’t with him. She stopped next to them, nodding at his colleagues. “Males.” Her voice rang heavy with disdain. “Fellow warrior.” She nodded at the head programmer, a woman from a competing company.

And she was in character too. Scott resisted the urge to play along and drop to one knee, asking how he could please his queen.

She looked at him again, expression cold. “You will speak with me now.”

A round of snickers erupted around him. He didn’t care. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Lucky bastard,” someone else muttered as they walked away.

He followed her toward an emptier corner of the room, gaze traveling up her bare back—well, latex-covered—struggling not to close the distance between them. Half the eyes in the room were on them, and she’d definitely smack him for real. They ducked out through a side door, but the cool night air on his face didn’t push away the heat in his veins.

His voice was heavy, but he managed to keep the teasing hint present. “So, am I supposed to kiss your boots, my queen? Because I’m fully prepared to do so.”

She finally faced him again, panic heavy in her blue eyes and stern expression gone. “Oh, gawd, I can’t believe I let Riley talk me into this. Everyone in there was staring. I should have worn something else. Something less … let-my-assets-hang-out.”

“Whoa.” He forced his hand to stay by his side, worried if he reached for her he wouldn’t be able to stop. “You look amazing, you’re wearing more than half the people in there, and you’re blending. I swear.”

She scowled. “I saw Hank Cartee in there. You didn’t tell me he was going to be here.”

He gave her what he hoped was an apologetic smile. “I didn’t think about it. Consider this your warning, he’ll be at pretty much anything that’s industry-wide.”

Her brow creased, adding a new layer of haunting to the regal costume. “How many more of these do you think I’ll be attending?”

Her implication that she either didn’t want to be there or didn’t want to be spending time with him—he wasn’t sure which—stung, and he tried to hide it. “As many as I can get away with. I like having you here, and I’ll keep you on retainer if that’s what it takes.”

She put more space between them, mouth twisted in irritation. “I’m not Julia Roberts. My job isn’t to attend fancy parties with you.”

Shit, she’d taken the compliment wrong.

“I know, and I didn’t mean to imply. You’re not, it’s true. You’re far more attractive, and I suspect infinitely more intelligent. Also, if we’re making Pretty Woman references, I’m Julia Roberts, and you’re grooming me so no one knows I’m a whore.” He grinned big.

She let out a small laugh, and her entire frame relaxed. “You’d never pull off that mini with suspenders.”

“I might could, you never know.” He wanted to lean in and kiss the concern away. Ease the stress from around her lips. He stepped closer.

“Miss Carter.” Hank Cartee’s voice cut through the night. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Scott stepped back instead. Kenzie’s back went straight, and her impassive mask slammed back into place. “It’s for a good cause. I have to keep an eye on my male.” She nodded at Scott, her posture, tone, and language indicating she was role playing again as the dominant character she’d dressed as.

Hank didn’t even glance in Scott’s direction, eyes locked on her chest. He finally looked at her face. “Of course. And you do know how to make an entrance. Listen, I’ll let you two get back to discussing business soon—though don’t do it too much, this is a party, right?” He laughed, though no one else did.

Scott’s hands clenched into fists, but he kept them hidden behind his back, not having a reason to interrupt.

“Anyway.” Hank took Kenzie’s fingers between his, and kissed her knuckles. “You look amazing, my dear, and I had to come out here and let you know, and also apologize for how I acted when we met. It was inappropriate. I know you must be incredible at what you do to have made this kind of impact, and I never should have implied otherwise.”

Kenzie’s stern expression wavered, and she pulled her hand away. “Of course. Water under the bridge, Mr. Cartee. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back inside.”

Hank held the door open for her, still never looking directly at Scott, and let it swing shut behind them.

Scott stood in the night air for several minutes after they were gone, breathing deep and trying to remember not to hyperventilate. He pushed back his fury at Cartee and the very visible reaction he’d had to Kenzie. Great, he was a kid again who couldn’t even control a hard-on. Fantastic.

* * * *

Kenzie stood near the back of the room, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Standing up straight made her heels ache, but fidgeting didn’t solve the problem. She desperately wanted to step out of the torture devices masquerading as shoes. She sipped her water and watched as item after item sold to the highest bidder.

It made her smile that so many people were into the evening. Or at least, now that the novelty of snapping pictures of everyone in their costumes had worn off and she had some peace, it made her smile.

She’d mingled a little, but this wasn’t the kind of affair she was used to. Scott was in his element. Every time she caught a glimpse of him, he was laughing and joking with someone new. She didn’t know which were his colleagues and which were just fans, but he seemed to enjoy everyone’s company. Such a sharp contrast to how drained he’d looked at the investor dinner.

Could she sneak out for the night without saying goodbye? Was it rude to leave before the auction was over? She set her drink on a nearby table and made her way toward the exit, relieved when she didn’t pass anyone. The lights and noise faded into the background, and she left it behind her with a hint of regret.

A warm hand landed at the small of her back, startling her and obliterating her musings, and a faint whiff of cologne greeted her. It was him. She stopped in the empty, quiet hallway. At least he couldn’t hear her hammering heart.

His breath was warm on her neck, his voice low. “What they’re saying is true. You really are the most beautiful woman here.”

The compliment warmed her, and she couldn’t fight the flutter that surged through her chest. She tried to push it away, stay aloof, hope it didn’t show on the surface. “Really? How many of the others have you said that to?”

“Not a single one.” Hurt was distinct in his reply.

She winced at the wounded honesty, but hid her reaction, never turning to face him.

“It’s a shame we’re just associates. Friends at best.” He moved closer until his entire left side was pressed against her back, hand on her hip and finger tracing a light line along the top of her skirt. “Because I desperately want to take you home with me.”

Her skin flushed from the contact and the sincere words, and she was glad the makeup and latex hid it. She spun, any response dying on her lips when she met his gaze. She traced a finger over his face beneath the fake scar. “This is sexy, but I’m glad it’s not real.”

He inhaled through clenched teeth, a reluctant smile flitting in. “Me too. Getting something like this probably hurts like hell.”

She laughed and ducked her head. It was too easy. Too much fun.

He stepped closer, and she locked her gaze on him again, sinking into the deep brown of his eyes. He traced a finger over her bottom lip, and an electrified chill ran through her. Her lips parted, and her eyes half drifted shut as she leaned in.

His mouth found hers, and her heart hammered in response to the gentle kiss. He deepened the gesture, hand moving to the small of her back and holding her close. She pressed tightly against him, memorizing every inch of how his body felt against hers, his distinct reaction digging into her hip.

A loud giggle echoed through the empty hallway, sounding like shattering glass in the otherwise still.

Her eyes flew open, and she broke the kiss as she remembered how very public their surroundings were. She forced one foot back, and then the other, putting a several inches between them. Her laugh sounded forced and nervous, even to her own ears, and disappointment warred with propriety. “This might not be the time.”

He studied her for a moment, expression finally breaking into a sad smile. “Had to give it a shot, right?” Hurt rang heavy in his fake laughter. “Anyway, I’m out of here soon, just wanted to tell you good night. Thank you for coming.”

He kept the distance between them, and her disappointment grew.

“See you.” He moved away, not shaking her hand, or kissing her cheek, or anything, before he faded back into the crowd.

She slumped against a nearby wall, beating back the desire to chase him down. To tell him it didn’t matter. To admit how very much she wanted to leave with him too. Too bad that wouldn’t be appropriate.