Her Alpha CEO

Chapter 9

Brian was reading an unexpectedly interesting book on corporate espionage when there was a knock at the door. He set it face-down on the sofa and went to answer, automatically brushing the dust from his jeans and pinstriped, untucked oxford, even though the house wasn’t old enough to have accumulated any dust, and even though, if it did, his housekeeper would have made short work of it.

He thought that it was probably Jen or Tristan at the door, and why that realization made Brian’s mouth turn down in consternation, he couldn’t have said. But his mouth turned up again when he opened the front door, and his step felt lighter — even if he was standing still — when he saw that it wasn’t his brother or sister who stood on the other side, but Nina.

Her appearance surprised him. Not so much her appearance on his doorstep, but rather her appearance on his doorstep. She was dressed in the kind of thing he’d never seen her wear before — blue jeans that were faded to the point of being torn in places, and a pale blue T-shirt that was brief enough to allow a glimpse of smooth flesh between its hem and the waistband of her jeans. Even more surprising than Nina’s appearance, however, was her luggage’s appearance, since, by virtue of its appearance, it was apparent that it would be visiting, too. It was scattered about her feet in a way that made it look as if she’d just dropped it there in frustration before ringing the bell.

She sounded frustrated, too, when she said, by way of a greeting, “Can I ask you a favor?”

Brian tried to tear his gaze away from that very alluring strip of naked flesh…and failed miserably. Still gazing at the hem of her shirt, he mentally willed it to leap up again the way it had — all too briefly — when she’d shoved her hands into her back pockets. And somehow he conjured the presence of mind to reply to her question. Unfortunately, that reply was a very distracted, “Huh?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, an action which, although not the one he was mentally willing her to complete, nevertheless had the desired result. For another scant second, that band of naked flesh widened, causing the heavens to open up and a chorus of angels to sing, “Hallelujah, hoo-ah.”

“Can I ask you a favor?” Nina said again.

But she said it without moving her body, unfortunately, so her shirt stayed in place. Then again, that at least allowed Brian to be coherent enough to answer her question this time. Kind of. At least he got out an “Mmm-hmm” that sounded vaguely affirmative in nature. The problem was, by then, he couldn’t remember what the question was that he was answering.

His reply seemed to be fine for Nina, though, because she continued, “Would it be possible for me to crash here for a couple of days?”

The question was unexpected enough to command a much larger chunk of his attention. So unexpected, in fact, that he wouldn’t have been more surprised if Nina had just asked him if it would be possible for him to pull the Empire State Building out of his pocket. Then again, the way he was beginning to feel watching the comings and goings of her shirttail, that might not be such an unreasonable request in a few more minutes.

He managed to cover his reaction well, though — he hoped. And through some herculean effort, he also managed to bring his gaze back up to her face. “Problems at home?” he asked.

She nodded her head. “Problems with all sorts of things.”

Hey, that sounded promising, he thought. “What kind of problems?”

“My meeting with Michael was a complete failure. He wanted to use me to find info on you and when I didn’t give, he lost his temper.”

He was wrong. That wasn’t promising. It was perfect.

Before he could say anything more, she hurried on, “But while I was meeting with him to discuss our options, the geyser at home burst and flooded my house. It’s in complete shambles, I don’t know when it will be fixed, and I don’t feel like living in a damp house without a ceiling for the next couple weeks. Would you mind if I stayed here?”

Thank God for small favors, Brian thought. Inescapably, his gaze had dropped to her

midsection again when he’d noticed — how could he miss it? — that as Nina had spoken, she had used a lot of hand gestures, and the hem of her little T-shirt rose and fell with every one, once even high enough to allow him a peek at a truly spectacular navel. So spectacular, in fact, that he enjoyed a quick impression of dragging a line of open-mouthed kisses across her flat abdomen before dipping his tongue into the elegant little cleft for a taste….

Until he remembered it was Nina’s navel he was tasting in his fantasy. Nina, he

reminded himself emphatically. This was Nina he was thinking about, for God’s sake.

Nina’s midsection. And Nina’s navel. All of them were strictly off-limits because…Because… Because…

Well, because she was Nina, Brian told himself. That was why. He’d offered her a job and was trying to help her reconcile with her sister. She had the potential to become a trusted employee he didn’t want to compromise with some kind of messy workplace involvement. A trusted employee with an excellent work record. A trusted employee with strong business ethics and sound professional judgment. A trusted employee with long dark braided hair that was tumbling free around her shoulders in a way that made him want to reach out and touch it. A trusted employee with enormous brown eyes a man could drown in. A trusted employee with a luscious navel he really, really wanted to taste.

“So if the offer of that new position is still open,” his luscious, tasty, trusted employee said

now, “I’d like to come and work for you, on the condition that my job at the bookstore not be compromised.”

The word that should have registered most in that sentence was work. But Brian’s brain had gotten so caught up on position that it never quite made the leap to work. And the position that came to mind just then, although it definitely involved Nina, had absolutely nothing to do with work. Well, okay, maybe there would have to be a little work involved — it was kind of an unusual position — but that work would have definitely been a labor of lo—Lust, he hastily corrected himself. A labor of lust.

“Brian?”