Tangled Up Read online

  “Nothing happened with us,” Caite murmured so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

  In a way he wished he hadn’t, because hearing it meant that somehow she knew it mattered to him. “Just keep your personal life personal, Ms. Fox. Not on company time.”

  For another few seconds, he thought she meant to say more, but whatever words had filtered to her tongue she bit back. He hated the cold flatness in her look, as though they barely knew each other. Well…that was the truth, wasn’t it? They barely did.

  So why, then, he thought as he watched her leave the room without so much as a glance behind her, did he feel as if Caite Fox knew him better than anyone ever had?

  * * *

  Independent.

  Mouthy.

  You’re an aggressive, intimidating bitch.

  The words of not just one but a few of her boyfriends echoed in her memory as Caite at last gave up the pretense of trying to work and shut down her computer. Her phone had been blessedly silent for the past few hours, the updates she’d scheduled getting a sufficient number of shares and comments, but nothing she had to handle. She could give in, call it a day. Go home.

  Nothing waited for her there but a bottle of wine she’d have to drink by herself—never a great idea. And darkness. And quiet. Even the idea of a bubble bath with candles and a good book didn’t really appeal to her. She didn’t want to go home. Not alone, anyway.

  For the first time in years, really, Caite was tired of being alone. Her longest relationship had lasted four years and ended amicably enough a couple years ago when she and Dallas had both agreed that his promotion and consequent transfer to California was as good a time as any for them to either make a permanent commitment or to call it quits. Ending it as friends had seemed the better deal. Since then, she’d dated. Not consistently but a lot. A few, not many, had become “boyfriends.” But most of them had been nothing except a way to pass the time until she’d grown tired of the parade of first dates that had never been good enough to turn into second ones. Getting off the dating carousel had been a relief, and being alone had been a choice.

  Now, though, all she could think about was…well, not the sex. Though it had been amazing. Fantastic. Mind-blowing. But not the sex. The connection.

  She and Jamison had not fucked like strangers getting naked together for the first time. Hell. They hadn’t even fucked, technically. He’d give her pleasure—twice! And left without it being reciprocated. And yet those two times with him had been more erotic, more fulfilling and more meaningful than a double fistful of simultaneous orgasms and the afterglow of pillow talk. They had started from different places and ended the same way, yet during it, had met in the middle and found each other as though they’d clasped hands in a dark room and shown each other the way to the light.

  “Oh, ugh. Gross,” Caite murmured. “Stupid. Fairy tales and firesides, this is not.”

  But…what harm could it do to fantasize about it? All the months she’d worked here, her boss had certainly tantalized her daydreams. The reality of him had been even better. So what if it wasn’t going to happen again, it wasn’t meant to last, it had been shifting, scattering castles of dust. So what if he’d made it beyond clear that kneeling in front of her had been…wrong. Unprofessional, he’d said. And stupid.

  Stupid, all right. Stupid to think a man like Jamison Wolfe would ever be able to give her what she wanted and needed. Still. That didn’t mean she couldn’t remember that just for those brief moments, it had happened.

  He had kneeled for her.

  And he’d loved it.

  With a groan, Caite settled back in her chair and closed her eyes to try and chase away the memory of his mouth on her. His glazed look when he’d stared up at her from between her legs. When he’d turned and left without so much as a hand job, all at her command. She couldn’t stop herself from touching the pulse beating in the base of her throat. Then her wrists, where she pressed against the throbbing flow of her blood, which had gone heated and swift in her veins at the thought of his kiss.

  It could never work. Boss, employee—they were worlds apart even without that impropriety. But Jamison had given her a taste of what Caite had always craved and had been unable to articulate or even admit to herself until he had responded to her commands. And now, having tasted it, the idea of never having it again was enough to make her want to throw something on the floor and break it.

  She’d finished her work hours ago but had not gone home, and why? Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jamison, who’d been so clearly avoiding her. That more than anything had convinced her of his disgust. Jamison Wolfe was not a man to avoid anyone, ever, yet he’d almost made a career of pretending she didn’t exist.

  Now the office was quiet. Bobby gone. Jamison might have left, too, but she didn’t think so. With a shivering sigh, the residual memory of his mouth on her cunt making her breath catch, Caite put both her hands flat on the desk. Thinking about every cruel thing any man had ever said to her.

  You should know your place.

  That last had hurt worse than anything else. Her place? What was her place, exactly? Below, beneath, less than? And why? Because she was a woman?

  “Fuck that,” she said aloud, though the harsh words didn’t chase away the taste of bitterness.

  * * *

  It had been two weeks since Jamison had blown up at her about going out with Tommy. She needed to talk to him. If nothing else, they needed to get some things straight so they could keep working together. Caite had never been the sort of woman to let things like this slide. It had earned her a lot of heat from past lovers who hadn’t appreciated her honesty or forthrightness, but…Jamison was unlike any of them had ever been.

  He was different.

  The thought of that alone was enough to get her moving. Her bare thighs rubbed together above the tops of her stockings, and the click-click of her high heels on the hallway’s tile floor tickled her eardrums. He’d be able to hear her coming.

  She knocked on his door and waited for him to reply before opening it. She didn’t bother with peeking around the doorframe. She walked right in and closed the door firmly behind her, making sure to lock it.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  He looked as wary as she felt but nodded and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Caite took a seat, sitting on the edge. Back straight. Hands folded on her lap. Not sure what she meant to say until the words came out.

  “I’ve had seven lovers in my life,” she began without preamble. “A few one-night stands. Two of them were what I might consider serious, long-term. None of them ever, ever did for me what you’ve done. I’d never asked it of any of them, not outright, though in retrospect I guess there was always that element there. None of them ever responded to me the way you did, Jamison. None of them ever made me feel the way you did. I thought you should know.”

  He said nothing for a few seconds, so long she began to wonder if he meant to say nothing at all. Then he cleared his throat. “I was married at twenty-four. It lasted two years. I haven’t had a girlfriend since that lasted longer than a year. Most less than that. The women I’ve dated, including my ex, all seemed really happy to let someone else do all the work. All the heavy lifting, I guess you could say. And I thought I liked that for a long time. Having things my way. Getting what I wanted.”

  “Most people like getting their own way.”

  He laughed a little shamefacedly and shook his head. “You can’t run a relationship like you run a business deal.”

  “No,” Caite said. “I guess you can’t.”

  There was more silence, less awkward than before. Jamison sat back in his chair. Caite kept her position upright, stiff. Professional. She wasn’t ready to relax, not just yet.

  “What I said to you was wrong,” he said.

  Her eyebrows rose.

  “About knowing your place.” His voice dropped. Regretful. “It was arrogant of me, and it wasn’t what I meant. I just…You…Damn.”