Crossing the Line Read online

  He didn’t want to think about the night Nellie had been arrested. Or what had happened afterward, in Caite’s apartment. Or why what had happened was making him so angry now.

  “You’re not supposed to be having a good time with...him.”

  Now both her eyebrows lifted, and her lips parted on a huff of surprise. “I wasn’t aware that anything I choose to do when I’m not on the clock is any of your business.”

  “It is when it reflects on the reputation of this company.” Jamison heard the words spitting from his mouth. He even believed them. But at the same time, he knew he was full of shit.

  Caite pushed her chair away from the table and stood. Aside from the slight tremble in her voice when she answered him, she was perfectly calm. “If you don’t like the way I do my job, Mr. Wolfe, then I suggest you find a replacement.”

  Silence swelled between them, sharp as glass, as knives. Hot as a dying star. They stared each other down, neither of them moving. Scarcely a blink. Barely a breath.

  At last, Caite smoothed the front of her skirt and tucked a nonexistent strand of hair behind her ear. “Is that everything? Are you finished?”

  “Dammit, Caite, just...listen to me.”

  She stabbed at the air between them. “No. You listen. I’ve worked my ass off for this company for eight months, most of those completely under your radar. I’ve done everything you and Elise asked of me plus more. You might not like it, but I started taking on a lot more responsibility even before she got sick. So while you might think you’ve done me some huge favor by letting me take on these clients, the truth is, it’s the other way around. You want to talk to me about the reputation of this company? Really? Why? Because you’re jealous?”

  He was jealous. That was the truth of it. He’d been unable to get the taste of her off his tongue for days, and the thought of another man kissing her...touching her...

  “Do you think just because we fucked around,” Caite said in a low voice, “that you...what? Own me?”

  No. That wasn’t it at all. Jamison owned an expensive watch, a nice car, furniture. A cell phone. He could never own her. Not that he wanted to, he told himself. And he sure as hell didn’t want her to own him.

  “What happened between us was unprofessional at best. Stupid at worst,” he said. “And has nothing to do with anything else.”

  Her chin went up. Her eyes flinty. “I agree.”

  Dammit, that wasn’t what he’d wanted her to say. The problem was, Jamison had no idea what he did want her to say. Or do. She’d had him turned upside down from the moment she’d taken control of him, and he hadn’t been normal since.

  “Like it or not, Ms. Fox, there’s a reason why the name of this company is Wolfe and Baron, and it’s because I’m the one in charge here. Me. Not you. So you should know your place.”

  She hesitated, as though she meant to say something else, then let out a low, soft sound. Her expression softened, a shift in her gaze. A tiny quirk of her mouth that wasn’t a smile but at least was better than a frown or the cold, grim line of her anger.

  “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 sh