His smile widened as she got to her feet, grabbed a pile of papers from the printer, stuffed it into a folder, and went out as quickly as her feet could carry her. Stopping himself from chuckling when she stumbled at the door was almost impossible.
She was running away from him, there was no mistaking it.
He liked that; perhaps too much. Little mice should know that when they ran away, cats couldn’t help themselves from wanting to chase.
He wouldn’t, though. The girl was an employee. His company didn’t have any fraternization policy, and relationships between coworkers weren’t frowned upon, as long as everyone kept their personal shit at home. The issue was that he didn’t want a relationship – not now, possibly not ever. He just didn’t have the time for it. Besides, Carter was the CEO – that was a completely different ballgame. He could look at a pair of legs the wrong way and be slapped with a million dollars’ worth of legal fees for sexual harassment.
Yes, that was an excuse. Yes, he was sticking to it.
“Carter, have you even looked at the figure I’ve just sent you?” Trick asked him.
He had. In fact, he’d read the figure in front of him three times.
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
“And you’re not ordering fireworks because…”
Carter forced himself to concentrate on the numbers from their latest launch.
Saying that it looked good was an understatement. They’d killed it, demolishing the target he’d set on the first day.
“It really is amazing. Well done. The bonuses are going to be pretty good this year.”
His friend was still looking at him in a strange manner, so he asked, “What?”
“You look happy. I mean, Christmas morning, I’ve gobbled the canary kinda happy. I don’t know if I should get the champagne or call your doctor.”
“Come on, Trick. I smile all the time.”
“Sure,” the CFO admitted with a shrug. “You show your teeth and pull your lips up, but man, you’re beaming right now. Did you get lucky last night? Because if that’s it, I’m hiring someone to keep you in that kinda mood every day.”
Carter just rolled his eyes. He most definitely did not need to call upon a professional to fill his bed. Whenever he attended an event, he took his date home, and for any other day, he had an agreement in place with the kind of girl any man would dream about.
Tara was tall, with a perfect ass, and designer tits. Her face had gone under the scalpel enough times to remove every imperfection. She was most men’s ultimate sexual fantasy.
“Come on, ’fess up, man. Twenty minutes ago, you almost beheaded the contractor for failing to finish the carpet over the weekend, now you’re giving The Joker a run for his money. What’s making you all cheery?”
Carter didn’t say anything; he wasn’t that stupid. If Trick ever suspected his misplaced fondness for a certain lowly employee, he would never leave it alone. There was also a strong probability that he might share the information with his mother, and then life wouldn’t be worth living.
Lara Harris wanted grandchildren. Badly.
“I just remembered something highly amusing. Now, if you please, I don’t think I can survive another minute without coffee. Is there a break room around here?”
He hadn’t done it on purpose, but when he opened the door to find Cassie sitting down with her sandwich, a pair of rectangular glasses on top of her perky nose, he had to chuckle to himself.
Trick looked at him suspiciously, following the direction of his gaze. To get him off his case, Carter launched into a series of questions about their latest deal.
They’d talked about getting into robots ages ago, but nothing they came up with was nearly as inventive as Slade Technologies’ stuff. William Slade had zero intention to start designing toys, so Carter had seen an opportunity for a joint venture. They’d shaken on the particulars a few days back; it was still new, fresh, and exciting.
Carter hadn’t attended the last set of meetings, entrusting it to Trick. There was only so much time he could spend going around in circles about tiny little details – after a while, he liked to hide in the creative department and brainstorm with the lucky buggers who got to stay in the fun part of the building every day.
“He just had one amendment: he wants a prototype for his daughter.”
That surprised him. He’d known William Slade for a while, they frequented the same circle, the same club, and he’d never heard of any children.
Then again, he wouldn’t be the first billionaire to keep his family protected, out of the limelight. Carter knew he would more than likely do the same in Slade’s place.
“Slade has a daughter?”
He smiled, imagining the cold, smart, focused man he knew playing hide and seek.
“Yes, apparently. That was a new one on me, too. Should have seen the guy’s face when he talked about her, though. He smiled nearly as much as you have this morning. Anyway, didn’t you get the file? Slade signed the contract, I got it sent to you via courier Saturday morning.”
Carter frowned; he’d been out sailing over the weekend.
Knowing how efficient his housekeeper was, he opened up his computer bag, and found a thick brown folder he hadn’t put in there.
“You can always count on Mrs. Ferrar to save the day,” he said, opening it up and glancing through it until he got to the signatures on the last page.
He’d check through it later, but there was ink on the dotted lines, which was always a good sign.
“How the fuck is that supposed to work? It’s not a coffee machine, that’s a damn spaceship,” Trick grumbled, interrupting his brief inspection.
Carter rolled his eyes and confidently turned his attention to the coffee maker.
He stared dumbly. Damn, the thing even looked like a spaceship. There were too many buttons and just about zero directions written anywhere.
“There must be instructions somewhere,” Trick reasoned, opening cupboards and drawers as Carter gritted his teeth, unreasonably aggravated by the uncooperative piece of equipment.
He was an engineer, designing complex, unique toys for a living. He could open up most computers, take out every part and rebuild it within hours. He was not going to lose against a coffee maker.
“What’s this handle for?” he asked, pushing a metallic tube down.
Scorching hot vapor came out of the damn thing, burning his hand.
“Jesus, this thing is a damn liability!” he cursed, putting the contract he was holding on a nearby table to protect it from the machine, before turning at the sound of a discreet chuckle just behind him.
Cassie was standing close – close enough for him to get a whiff of her delicate, floral scent. Proficiently, and without saying a word, she grabbed two cups, put them side by side and pushed a few buttons, doing some kind of magic until the machine yielded to her power.
“Cappuccino, latte?” she asked, turning to her left – towards Trick, rather than him.
She just glanced quickly, blushed, and returned to her task.