Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(26)

"Yeah, what about Britney?" She swatted his arm. "You neglected to  mention the part where you're godfather to the criminal's kid."

He blew out a breath. "Yeah, and she's a pretty awesome kid."

"And you take down her father, and it ruins her life." Cassie shook her head in sympathy. What a mess.

"Hey!" The kid in question stuck her head out of the door. "Are you guys ever coming inside? My mom says we have to go soon."

Jack gestured for Cassie to precede him, and she was launched into a  magazine spread. How had he managed to so utterly transform the space in  a few short hours? Candles blazed from every flat surface, stylish  people stood around in clumps laughing and juggling champagne flutes.  There was even a small Christmas tree in the living room, limbs heavy  with silver and white ornaments.

"Ha!" said Britney triumphantly, pointing to the space above Cassie's  head where she stood in the middle of the entryway. "Works every time!"

Cassie tipped her head up. Mistletoe. "Ah! You got me!" She offered her cheek to the girl.

"No way! Jack's gotta do it."

"Oh, no," said Cassie, suddenly feeling cornered as the chatter in the  room died and everyone turned to look at her. "I have a feeling you're  the one who hung this, Britney, so pony up." She pointed to her cheek.

But the girl had danced away. She twirled in a circle in the festive room. "Jack has a girlfriend! It's a Christmas miracle!"

Cassie started to protest that she wasn't Jack's girlfriend when the  lemony musk of her not-boyfriend assaulted her senses. He stood behind  her, sliding her coat off her shoulders at the same time he reached  around and placed his lips on her jawline. He'd probably been aiming for  her cheek, but she'd jumped a little, and he ended up where her jaw met  her throat. His breath was warm, and his lips pressed against her skin  felt like a brand. He left them there for a long moment, enough for her  to register that everyone else was probably cataloguing the kiss as more  than strictly polite.                       
       
           



       

When he finally pulled away, her legs felt wobbly. But Britney swooped  in. "Everyone, this is Cassie. I met her earlier today." She tugged  Cassie's arm and took her around, introducing her to Jack's employees.  She met the VP Amy, who turned out to be a stunning, leggy woman much  younger than Cassie had expected. She was probably not even thirty, and a  sharp stab of jealousy pierced Cassie's belly when she thought of Amy's  office nestled next to Jack's, the two of them collaborating on plans  and projects. She couldn't dwell on her irrational reaction, though,  because there were others to meet. Seth the executive assistant was  studying ancient philosophy part time. Dax Harris, the software guy,  greeted her warmly. And then there was Amy's boyfriend, a tall  good-looking doctor whom Cassie greeted with a great deal of enthusiasm.  She met Marcus Roseman, the CEO of the third company on the forty-ninth  floor, and a handful of his employees. Finally, a group of analysts  from Jack's company and programmers from Dax's recognized her from  Edward's and drew her into their heated debate about what was going to  happen in the upcoming Doctor Who Christmas special.

Everyone was different, yet they all seemed to come together into a  cohesive, collegial whole. Even spouses and kids-in addition to Britney,  there were a couple of middle schoolers and a baby asleep in his  mother's arms-seemed to integrate into the group like they'd always been  there. It felt almost like she was at the Christmas party of a family  business.

Even Carl was nothing less than totally friendly and charming. He and  his wife Diana pulled Cassie into conversation after issuing an  instruction to Britney to begin gathering her things so they could  leave.

"It will take her an hour, so I'm having another drink," said Diana,  pouring herself a glass of wine as they stood at the kitchen island.  "How long have you known Jack?" she asked, reaching over to refill  Cassie's glass, too.

"Um," Cassie hedged, not sure what role she was supposed to be playing.  Jack seemed content to let everyone believe they were dating. She  supposed it would be easy enough for him to invent a breakup later. "Not  too long, actually."

"Well, when Jack knows what he wants, he knows," said Diana.

"What do you do, Cassie?" asked Carl, and she couldn't help but silently  thank him for putting an end to his wife's line of questioning.

"I'm a student," she said. "And a bartender, too. Though I should  probably switch the order of that answer because I only go to school  part time."

"What are you studying, and where?" asked Carl.

"Math at the University of Toronto," Cassie answered, seeing no reason to lie.

Carl nodded, and asked her a series of questions about school. He seemed  intensely and genuinely interested in the details of campus life,  dormitories, meal plans.

"Well, I've never lived on campus, so I'm not sure," she said in  response to a question about whether dorms at the local university were  competitively priced compared to other schools.

"Carl, leave her alone," said Diana. "He's freaking about Britney's  college," she said to Cassie. Then she turned back to Carl. "And you  wonder why we've never met a girlfriend of Jack's. I always thought it's  because he's married to the company, but maybe he just hides them  because he knows you turn into the Inquisition?"

Cassie wondered if she should protest that she wasn't actually Jack's  girlfriend. It was one thing to let people believe it. But not  correcting the record when someone said it to her face-was that any  different than lying?

Her internal moral debate was interrupted when Jack swooped in holding a  large framed photograph. "Look at this. Britney just gave it to me." It  was a black and white image of one of Toronto's iconic streetcars.  Britney had managed to make the everyday infrastructure of the city look  both familiar and strange, as the photo was taken from a low angle and  through rain. It was both gritty and beautiful. Cassie recognized the  shot as being by the same photographer whose work lined Jack's entryway.

Britney bopped up behind Jack, beaming at the overheard praise. "I want to be a photographer," she explained to Cassie.

"Looks like you already are one," Cassie said. "This is beautiful."

"I can make you a print, too, if you like."

Cassie looked at Jack. His face was unreadable. "How did you get the  shot from so low?" she asked Britney, turning to evasive techniques  rather than responding to the offer. She didn't want Jack to think she  was overstepping, trying to worm her way into his real life.                       
       
           



       

 …

Everybody loved Cassie. Of course everybody loved Cassie. Cassie was a  nice person. Smart, charming, beautiful-the whole package.

Cassie was also distracting as hell. He'd practically ordered her to  wear the red dress, so he could hardly complain, but goddamn. Unlike  last time, she'd made no attempt to tone down the dress. Gone were the  blazer and the thick black tights. Her arms were gloriously bare and she  wore black stockings with seams down the back that made his dick twitch  every time he caught a glimpse of them. A shiny curtain of hair hung  down her back, and she'd forgone her usual light hand with makeup in  favor of dark, smoky, heavily lined eyes and crimson lips the same shade  as her dress.

As she floated through the party, he was perpetually aware of her, a  scarlet presence that practically oozed sex. And he wasn't the only one  who noticed. Dax, who usually spent all his time with the Winter  Enterprises crew arguing with Amy-the two fought like cats and dogs for  some reason he couldn't figure out-chatted with Cassie more than Jack  would have liked. The analysts were all over her, too. And then when it  turned out she had an opinion on the upcoming episode of Doctor Who?  Forget it, she might as well have been a snake charmer. He'd caught the  eye of one of the guys and shot him a look that made him physically take  a step back from Cassie. Of course, Jack had no right to be possessive  about her, but no one else knew that. Hell, they thought she was his  girlfriend, and macking on the boss's girlfriend was not cool.

Though he always knew where she was and what she was doing, he'd hardly  spoken to her all evening. She seemed to be doing fine on her own, and  honestly, he didn't trust himself in close proximity. This was the  company party, and the boss couldn't disappear upstairs with the party's  most noticeable guest for an hour without raising eyebrows. Still, he  looked at his watch every few minutes, growing increasingly agitated  with the never-ending party. By the time Carl and Britney and Diana  started making moves toward departing, his skin was prickling. When Amy  announced her intention to leave, too, he practically threw her coat at  her.