Working Stiff:Casimir (Runaway Billionaires #1)(6)

"They found out about the cats. The lease said no pets. And the eviction  notice was effective immediately. They put a bolt on my door. I just  took my cats and some clothes and left."

"You can't be evicted without due process. An eviction proceeding usually takes months, even if there is a lease violation."

Cash looked down at their feet.

Pirate leaned so hard against Rox's leg that her knee almost buckled,  and his bottle-brush tail coiled around her thigh like a furry snake.

"I suppose I shouldn't ask why you even have cats, then," he said, "if the lease forbade them."

"I volunteer at an animal shelter on Sundays. These guys were so sad.  They needed someone to love them. And I did. So I took them home."

"Even though your apartment had a no-pets policy."

"I figured that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission."

"I don't think you received either."

"Look at this little guy." Rox hoisted him into her arms, burying her  fingers in his deep fur. Pirate tucked his forehead under her chin and  purred hard. "He was so depressed, living in that little cage for  months. How could I just walk away from him?"

Cash stared at the cat-at his ruined ears, the blank fur where his eye  used to be, and the scarred pits where he was missing some of his yellow  fur-and his eyebrows rose with skepticism. "I'll leave that to your  judgment."

"I couldn't," she said, scratching him under the chin, and Pirate closed his yellow eye in happiness.

"And the others?"

"Same thing. They needed me."

A slow smile crept over Cash's face. "It would not have occurred to me  that you would rescue three motheaten cats at some risk to yourself.  You're a sweet person, Rox."

"I am not. You take that back." She set Pirate down on his paws. He sat and washed his flat face with a paw.

Cash watched the cat smear spit on his face. "So where have you been staying?"

"That's kind of the problem," she admitted.

"Oh?" His query was laced with wariness, and he began watching her more closely again.

"I couldn't find a hotel that took animals, and I swear to God, all my  friends are allergic or have aggressive dogs or something."

Cash looked horrified again. "So where have you been staying?"

"I've been sleeping in my car and showering at my gym."

"In your car? You can't sleep in your car in Los Angeles. There are  homeless persons, and vagrants, and criminals. It's not safe. You can't  do that."

"I didn't have any other options," she said.

"Of course you did. You could have called me. I'm not allergic to cat hair-"

"It's actually the dander, not the hair."

"-and I don't have a dog to frighten them."

Rox fidgeted, digging her toe into the flat carpet. "But, you're a guy."

"Does not follow," he said, his eyebrows drawing farther down. That was  lawyer-speak for something illogical or that he couldn't understand.

"I can't ask a guy if I can come sleep on his couch. It implies things."

"Gender propriety rules do not apply when you are homeless. This is appalling." Cash ran one hand through his hair.

And yet she had no choice. There was one damn good reason why she hadn't told him. "And, you're you."

"What on Earth is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.                       
       
           



       

"You're Cash Amsberg. You're that guy in the office."

His brilliant green eyes lit with anger. "What guy?"

"The guy. The guy who everyone has-you know."

He rolled his eyes and raised his hands. "Rox, it's me. It's just me. We  travel together every month. I've certainly never assaulted you."

"Well, there was that one time in Japan that you dragged me into your room-" she mused.

"I carried you out of the bar on the night when you discovered sake. I  held your hair back. That night was like the aftermath of a frat party."

"You took my clothes off." This was one of their comedy routines. They'd  been through it a dozen times, but Cash was still ranting so much that  he didn't recognize it.

He insisted, "It was an act of charity to take that vomit-soaked blouse  off of you, and I got you into one of my tee shirts before I rolled you  into the bed."

She was trying to repress a smile at his sputtering. "You stayed in my room when I was too drunk to give consent."

"I slept on the floor to make sure you didn't choke to death on your own vomit, and it was actually my room."

"That's still not consent."

"I have never behaved improperly or even suggested such a thing."

Cash was well into a good rant. His ears were even turning pink. Rox blinked hard, trying to get the teary crap out of her eyes.

God, he smelled good, like cookies and fresh lumber and something darker, masculine, and clean.

He demanded, "And where is your husband during all this? Is he sleeping  in his car, too? Or has he gone to stay with someone and left you out in  the cold?"

It wasn't particularly cold in early autumn in Los Angeles, especially  with three traumatized cats who had slept draped on top of her while she  reclined in the passenger seat, but that wasn't the point.

Rox said, "Grant is on a month-long shoot in Thailand. He's been gone  for over a week. He doesn't even know. I didn't want to worry him."

Cash's deep voice rose, along with his hands. "Good God, Rox. So you  were alone, in your car, with three cats, and you didn't call me. I  can't bear it."

"It didn't seem like the right thing to do."

His voice rose further. "Damn you and your bizarre Southern proprieties.  Get your cats. Get your things. We're taking everything to my place so  that you can concentrate on work the rest of the day, and then you'll  stay in my guest suite until we can find a proper apartment for you that  accommodates pets so this doesn't happen again. Do I make myself  perfectly clear?"

He was so funny when he was outraged. Even though Rox saw it a couple times a week, it was still kind of cute.

And because it was cute, she provoked him further. "You're not the boss of me."

"I assure you, I am actually the boss of you," Cash said, still ranting.  "I am your boss and you will do as I say and you will not sleep in your  damned car even one more minute."

Cash paused, taking in the fact that she was grinning at his tirade, even though her eyes still burned a little.

He said, "Oh, I see how it is. Fine. Get these beasts packed up. We'll  pick up some lunch while we're out. Have you been eating?"

Rox rolled her eyes at that. "I have money. I just couldn't find a place to stay."

"Then it's settled."

"It's just for tonight. I'll find someplace starting tomorrow."

"Fine, then. I'll be back in ten minutes to carry your things downstairs to my car." He turned to leave.

"I can drive myself," she insisted.

"My car is larger, and yours has been recently used as a flop for  homeless people and unwashed beasts. It's not fit transportation."

She laughed at him that time. "You don't have to do this. I'm really fine."

Cash rolled his eyes, finally thoroughly exasperated. "I will brook no more arguments. Pack up your cats."

"Okay, boss."

His shoulders relaxed as he finally simmered down, and she could see the  snark building in him. He asked, "Also, you belong to a gym?"

Oh, a chubby crack.

Rox popped her chin up. "Yeah, I do. Where I take kickboxing, and I will  pound your skinny, arrogant, lawyer butt if you make a fat joke."

Cash chuckled. "That's not what I meant. You should try mine. It has an  excellent juice bar with very good food service. The treadmills have  desks. I often look at contracts on a laptop while I'm there. You might  like it."

She rolled her eyes at that, too. "Dude, you have a serious workaholism  problem. There's gotta be a twelve-step program for that."                       
       
           



       





CASIMIR





Casimir Amsberg-for he still thought of himself by his proper name even  though everyone in California had taken to calling him "Cash"-closed his  office door and leaned his back against it.

Roxanne had been in his arms. Her soft heat had soaked through his  clothes until he could nearly feel her. He could have pulled her against  his body, turned her face up, and kissed her, right there, in that  moment.

For a blink of an eye, it hadn't mattered to Casimir that she was  married. Her husband had gone off to Thailand of all places and left her  when she had needed his protection, no matter what the order of events  had been.

It galled Casimir that Rox hadn't called him when she had needed someone  to help her. Anger still coursed through him, running hot in his blood,  and that was why he had taken a few moments to quiet himself before  they drove out to his house in the foothills.