Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(25)

"Oh, Cassie! You're going to stay, right? Jack said you had to work, but please won't you come tonight?"

"Um. I do have to work." Cassie eyed Jack. "I just came because I forgot  to … leave this." She couldn't make herself utter the words "your key" in  front of Britney. She might as well paint a scarlet A on her forehead.  She stepped onto the first step and opened her palm in Jack's direction.

He looked at the proffered key, face blank. "You can at least stay and help us with the gingerbread house."

"And the decorations!" said Britney. "Because I'm so bad at it!" She  gestured in the direction of the admittedly uneven garlands.

"The party is here?" Cassie asked, hearing the bewilderment in her tone.  She'd imagined the Winter Enterprises Christmas party at some swank  restaurant. They hosted lots of those sorts of things in the private  dining room at Edward's.

"Yep!" said Britney. "Jack always puts on a huge spread!"

"Well, I don't do it," said Jack. "It's catered. I just show up. And make a gingerbread house."

Britney waved dismissively. "He just pretends to be a humbug," she  stage-whispered to Cassie. "But really, he's like the best boss ever."

Cassie looked back and forth between the man and the girl, unable to  find anything to hold on to that would help her make sense of this odd  situation. "That's, uh, great. But speaking of bosses, I've got my own,  and I've got to go."

"You start at six, don't you?" asked Jack.                       
       
           



       

Leave it to him to stand in the way of her escape. Which was extra  annoying because eight hours ago, it seemed he couldn't get away from  her fast enough.

When she didn't answer immediately, he locked his eyes on hers like blue lasers and said, "I want you to stay."

 …

It was the truth. He wanted her to stay. The sudden appearance of Cassie  on his doorstep might as well have been divinely orchestrated. He'd  spent the entire day feeling like a complete jerk because of how he'd  acted this morning. They might not be having a  relationship-relationship, but he treated his cleaning lady better than  he'd treated Cassie. And his cleaning lady had never blown him until he  nearly blacked out and then thrown herself into ferreting out fraud in  his company. It was just that his rules were there for a reason. Women  were a distraction-they got in the way of work. He hadn't built Winter  Enterprises from nothing into a multimillion-dollar company by being  distracted. Though they had clearly negotiated the parameters of their  short-lived, rule-bending entanglement, in the clear light of day, last  night seemed … wildly dangerous. Still, she hadn't done anything wrong,  and he had pulled the rug out from under her.

"Britney, I need to speak to Cassie for a minute. Can you finish this garland while we go inside and check on the gingerbread?"

His goddaughter's eyes narrowed. "Whatever you've done, Jack, you should just apologize so Cassie will come to the party."

He winked at Britney. Whatever Carl's faults, he had raised a pretty damn amazing daughter. "That's the idea, Brit."

She tilted her head and regarded the garlands. "I think this is going to  take quite a while. These are awful. I'm going to have to totally start  over."

Cassie was still looking adorably like a deer in headlights, so he  bounded down the steps and took her arm, pulling her up after him. Once  inside, he took her winter clothes and steered her toward the kitchen  island where sheets of gingerbread were cooling. "I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?" She blinked.

"I acted like an ass this morning."

She blinked, still looking dazed. "You kind of did."

"Yeah, well, I told you I didn't do relationships."

"And I told you this isn't a relationship!" Her voice rose almost comically.

"I know, I know. We set out the parameters at the beginning, and there  was no reason for me to brush you off like that. I just kind of … " I  don't bring women here, much less wake up with them in my arms. So I  panicked and acted like a dick. Except that sounded ridiculous to  actually say.

"You kind of freaked out."

Wincing, he nodded. That was it exactly. "I know it sounds stupid, but I can't afford to get distracted."

"Dude, you should have just let me go home when I tried to."

She was right. Except he hadn't wanted her to go home right then. And in  truth, that's what worried him. It wasn't that he was breaking the  rules-it was that he was getting a little too comfy with them broken.  Still, it wasn't her fault. And they only had a little time left  together. It wasn't like Winter Enterprises was going to crumble around  his ears if he let himself be distracted by her for a couple more days.  "Look, come to the party. Call in sick to work-I bet you've never done  that."

"I can't," she said automatically.

Before he could argue, there was a clattering noise from the entryway, followed by the sound of Britney coughing theatrically.

"We're in here, Brit," he called.

"I just need to get my hat," she called. "It's freezing, and my ears are turning into icicles."

"It's okay. Come in and help me convince Cassie to call in sick to work. She's too conscientious."

"Oh, please come to the party, Cassie!" Britney came forward clutching  her hands to her chest as if she were having a heart attack. Good. Let  Cassie resist Hurricane Britney.

Five minutes later a deal had been struck. Cassie would start her shift  at the restaurant but would try to find someone to sub for her so she  could come to the party later.

"I'll have to run home after I get off, though, and change."

"No you don't!" said Britney at the same time that Jack said, "Wear the  red dress." He didn't care if he was being overly prescriptive. They  only had two days until Wexler. Two days till it all ended. Suddenly it  seemed criminal that he wouldn't get to see the red dress again in the  interim.

"What red dress?" said Britney, looking between the two of them. When  she got no answer, she grinned and said, "I vote for the red dress,  too."                       
       
           



       





Chapter Twelve

The next time Cassie arrived at Jack's, she did so by cab. It was  dark-she'd been able to beg off Edward's early, but since she'd had to  go home and change, it was still ten o'clock-and she was wearing the  killer pumps. She'd undergone an internal debate, but the "why the heck  not" side had won out and she'd abandoned her winter boots and called a  taxi, texting Jack that she was on her way. After all, her time with  Jack was almost up, so why not squeeze all the fun (okay, all the sex,  too) out of it while she could? As long as he didn't get weird again.  The minute that happened, she would bail.

The lights blazed inside, and Britney had salvaged the outdoor  decorations and added strands of twinkling lights. Though she'd been  nervous, Cassie felt lighter just looking at the festive, welcoming  house. As she stepped out of the cab, the front door opened, and Jack  bounded down the steps dressed in a button-down shirt and the  jeans-she'd begun to think of them as "the sex jeans," because he just  oozed sex appeal when he wore them. She rolled her eyes at the Pavlovian  response those jeans elicited as she watched him pay the cabbie. Her  nipples tingled and moisture gathered between her legs. Gah. Did he have  to wear them so often? Wasn't he rich enough to afford a more expansive  wardrobe?

Judging by the way he raked his eyes down her legs and paused at her  feet, she'd made the right choice of footwear. Then his fingers closed  around the collar of her coat and pulled it back, just enough to expose a  little of the red fabric of the dress.

He patted her ass. "Good girl."

She followed him up the stairs, but put her hand on his arm to stop him before they went in. "So Carl is going to be in there?"

"He is."

"It's going to be weird seeing him, knowing what I know. I kind of want to punch him."

"Try to resist the impulse. I do every day."

"There's also the part where he thinks I'm the floozy piece you picked up. Remember, from the office?"

"Oh, I remember."

"You were whispering about bending me over the reception desk, and I was  playing the ditz. He's also going to think I only own one dress."

"There's a kitchen island here, but we'll save that part for after everyone's gone."

"What?" It took Cassie a moment to get his meaning, then she felt her cheeks heat, even in the cold.

"I don't give a fuck about what Carl thinks," said Jack, wagging his  eyebrows at her. "But anyway, he obviously told Britney about you, so it  can't be that bad."