Thankfully Henry seemed more amused than upset by my obvious brush-off. He threw me a look and wandered into Caine’s office. From that moment on I couldn’t think about work. I couldn’t think about anything but what they were talking about. Would Caine tell Henry that I had sex with him? And how would Henry react? After deducing that Henry was either playing matchmaker or just messing with his friend by asking me out in the first place, I didn’t think Henry would be too affected by the news of my sexual escapade with his friend.
Either Caine didn’t say anything, or Henry wasn’t upset, because when he stepped out of the office with my boss he was laughing about something. My gaze moved to Caine, who stopped at the sight of me and scowled. “I’ll be out for lunch. If there’s anything urgent have it forwarded to my cell.”
Why was he telling me something I already knew?
“I know how to do my job, sir,” I said, smiling through clenched teeth.
“Did I say you didn’t?”
I saw Henry’s eyebrows draw together as he watched our interaction.
“Well, when you instruct me to do something I already know to do, you’re implying I don’t know my job.” I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Are you going to be this sensitive for the next two weeks? Because I’d like to prepare myself.”
“Oh, why don’t you—”
“Children, children.” Henry stepped in between us. “What is going on here? I thought after Saturday—”
“You thought what?” Caine and I snapped in unison, and then glowered at each other.
It seemed we both suspected Henry of messing with us.
Henry at least had the good grace to appear sheepish. “Nothing,” he lied with a shrug. “I’m just wondering why there’s all the extra antagonism between you.”
Caine shot me a warning look, and I knew instantly Caine hadn’t said a word to Henry about what had happened between us and he didn’t want me to mention it either. He addressed Henry. “Alexa quit this morning. She handed in her two-week notice.”
“Why?” Henry looked genuinely put out by the news.
Oh, great. So I was the bad guy. I harrumphed. “Call it an ‘unacceptable working environment.’ ”
“What? No.” He gave me a charming smile as though it would change my mind. “There’s got to be something we can work out.”
“Nope.” I stood up and grabbed my purse. “Don’t have time. I’m going out for lunch.”
“Not while I’m out for lunch,” Caine reminded me. “You can have your lunch at your desk. Like always.”
“I feel like eating now. Outside.”
“You’ll eat at your desk when it’s your lunch break.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I just decided this is my lunch break and I’m taking it outside.”
He took a step toward me, eyes flinty with warning. “You start acting like a child and I will make the next two weeks an absolute misery for you.”
I sighed and said, infusing boredom into my voice, “Is that before or after you huff and puff and blow my house down?” And while he stared at me speechless I strode past him and a chuckling Henry. I strolled right on out of there with a triumphant swing in my hips.
Round one to me.
Upon reflection while I sat in a café by myself and nibbled on a sandwich I didn’t really want to eat because I felt sick, I decided I was acting like a child. Okay, so Caine had hurt me and he continued to hurt me by acting like nothing happened between us, but I was a grown woman and I knew what I was getting into when I allowed Caine Carraway to have his wicked way with me.
We were both at fault for that, and the next two weeks would go a whole lot faster if I pretended to be polite.
So that was my intention.
Honestly.
Yet when Caine returned from lunch he was in a foul mood. I was going to promise him that I’d be civil to him from now on, but he didn’t even give me a chance to speak before he slammed inside his office.
My mood plummeted with his about half an hour later when the phone rang.
“Carraway Financial Holdings, Mr. Carraway’s office.”
“This is Marina Lansbury for Caine.” Her husky, impatient voice made me stiffen. “Put me through.”
The burn of jealousy radiated out of my chest, and my cheeks flushed. “Just one second,” I managed. I put her on hold and called through to Caine with no little amount of trepidation.
“What?” he snapped.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t miss his impatient grumpiness after all.
“I have Marina Lansbury on the line for you.”
“Put her through.”
My pulse started racing.
Put her through?
Why?
Why would he speak to her during working hours?
“Alexa?”
“Just one second,” I choked out, and then I patched her through to him.
For the next few minutes I glared at the telephone. Was he seriously going to date that sneering she-wolf?
I shook my head in exasperation. “It’s not your business,” I whispered heatedly to myself.
“Alexa,” Caine’s voice crackled on the speakerphone. “Come into my office, please.”
Bracing myself, I got up and walked sedately inside. He was sitting behind his desk, reading something on his computer. At my appearance he merely afforded me a quick glance before turning back to the screen. “You rang?”
“I need you to book a table at Menton for two at eight tomorrow evening. I heard through the grapevine they might be fully booked, so if you can’t get Menton, here’s a list of acceptable alternatives.” He pushed a notepad toward me.
That burn returned with a vengeance and I stared at him incredulously. He wanted me to make a date for him? Was he shitting me?
“Alexa?” Caine finally looked at me, his eyebrow quirked in question.
I gave him a slow saccharine smile as I put my palms to his desk and leaned over so our faces were only inches apart. His eyes narrowed at my nearness, but he held still. “You know what, Mr. Carraway?” I said with faux sweetness. “You can book your own table.”
Anger sparked in his eyes as I stepped back and spun around on my heel. Whatever he might think, as much as I’d put up with his crap as a diligent employee, I was not a woman he could walk all over.
“The table is for me and Jack Pendergast. You know, the president of Atwater Venture Capital.”
Oh.
I halted.
Oh, balls.
I sheepishly looked over my shoulder. “Oops?”
To my surprise Caine smirked. “Even I’m not that big enough a bastard to ask you to arrange a date for me two days after we …” His eyes flicked to the top of his desk.
“Had sex on that desk?” I finished helpfully.