Playboy Boss Read online

  Their eyes met.

  “Yes. Two different women.”

  A look of disbelief colored her face. “Oh…”

  “Will that be a problem?” He sat back again, enjoying her reaction to him. Yes, he was indeed in a jerkish mood that day.

  “No, sir.” Her mouth said the words, but her face betrayed her.

  Chapter Two

  Not one, but two women? Who the hell did this guy think he was? Don Juan? Okay. Scottie had to give it to him. He was way above average in the looks department. And body department. In fact, he might have been the best-looking man she’d ever seen in person. But what irked her was he just knew it. He flaunted it as if there was nothing else to him. Or maybe she was being down on him because she couldn’t stand good-looking, rich men like her absent father, which wasn’t really fair. In her eyes, hot, rich guys could always get anything they wanted, and it didn’t matter who they might hurt in the process. Well, it was a good thing he didn’t want her because he’d be in for a rude awakening.

  She stood from the chair, his smirky lips still annoying the crap out of her. God, this guy really thinks he’s the shit. If only she could stop looking at his lips, jaw, and broad shoulders. Maybe she shouldn’t have stood yet.

  “I’m not done, Scottine.”

  She sat. Did he have to say her name like that with that hot British accent of his? Was it British? She wasn’t sure. She grumbled, “Sorry.”

  “Send a dozen red roses to Tamsin White. Her office address is in my contacts. The note shall say, ‘Tamsin, please forgive me. I won’t make the reservation tonight. Let’s reconnect during the holidays when work slows down. All my best, Konrad.’”

  Scottie wrote quickly, scoffing with each word. This was a kiss-off note, probably the nicest kiss-off she’d ever heard. After she’d written down the details, she looked back up at him, catching his amused gaze on her.

  Maybe it was the sun that beamed rays through the floor-to-ceiling window, but he somehow managed to get even better-looking than before. How was that even possible? His crystalline blue eyes stared at her with an intensity that made her want to look away. She refused, feeling the need to relent in her stomach. He would not scare her. He would not bully her with his handsome ways.

  “Ready for more?” His question was as insinuating as the other one.

  “Umm … yes.” Her throat went dry, to her dismay. Damn. She averted her gaze back to the safety of her notebook.

  “Send a dozen white roses to Antonia Robuchon, to her home address, which is also in my contacts. The note shall say, ‘Looking forward to dinner tonight.’”

  Scottie’s eyes snapped up to him. Anger bubbled inside her. How could she participate in this? His very blatant lies. Clearly, he was playing both of these women. Antonia apparently won the prize. Did she know what prize she won? Scottie pitied the women.

  “Problem?” He didn’t seem affected in the least.

  Are you an idiot? Of course she had a problem. What woman wouldn’t? Or ethical person, for that matter. But she’d have to pipe down. This was not her problem. Leaving this job because of her moral dilemma would be a problem for her. Rent wouldn’t be paid. She’d have to suck it up.

  Back to her notepad. “No problem.”

  “Make sure the flowers are delivered before the end of the day. Okay, Scottine?” He turned to face his computer before she could answer him.

  What a pompous jerk. She stood up in relief and with an urgency to get out of his office. “Yes, sir.”

  He waved her off without so much as looking at her, his attention on his computer screen.

  “One more thing,” Scottie said just before she reached the door. He looked up, surprise on his face by her brazen tone. “I go by Scottie, not Scottine.”

  His lips curled up to smirk at her again. “And I go by Konrad, not sir.”

  Her eyes zeroed in on his lips, which were parted and seductive like he kissed on a regular basis. She turned from him before her face betrayed her bold thought and escaped his office, her heart beating wildly.

  By the time she got to her cube, seconds later, she was completely unsettled. Off balance. For her first job out of college, this was not what she expected. For some reason, she imagined her first job would be making coffee for some old guy. Collecting his mail and teaching him how to use the Internet. Maybe that was a bit unfair and dramatic—exactly how she’d been feeling lately. Truth was, Konrad might be too good-looking to work for. And when she’d been in his office, underneath the annoyance she’d felt toward him, she was intrigued.

  Just focus on the work. Scottie had to remind herself and get Konrad and his smirking lips out of her mind. She did as she was told and found the women who would receive Konrad’s flowers, all the while sighing at her part in his player’s game. Because, clearly, he was a player.

  She hated players with every fiber of her being. It made her think of her father. Her mother was indeed a cautionary tale that Scottie remembered every time she got close to a guy. That was why she never got close to a guy.

  Scottie better just send the damn flowers and let it go.

  Thirty minutes later, the flowers had been ordered. She glanced at the clock. Close to lunch. She was lucky she had some cash for a sandwich at the lunch kiosk she saw when she’d first entered the Korr Corp building. As she ran through her options, the sharp shriek of the phone startled her. Panicking, she stared at the phone. This being her first job, she’d never used a multi-line office phone before. It was terrifying. Like something out of the NASA command center.

  She lifted the receiver, hoping the caller hadn’t hung up. Stumbling over her words, she answered, “Mr. Korr’s office. How may I help you?”

  “It’s Tamsin. Put me through to him.” The voice was sharp and not in the playing mood. Scottie suspected the caller Tamsin and the Tamsin White she’d just sent flowers to were one and the same.

  Scottie hesitated, glancing to his office across the aisle. She could see him through the glass wall typing on his keyboard. “Umm…”

  “Are you daft? Patch me through.” The British accent came through strong with her angry question.

  “Let me see if he’s available.” Scottie pushed down hard on the hold button. Calm down. Just calm down. She could do this. She could figure out a telephone for God’s sake. Taking in a breath, she scanned the other buttons, some labeled, some not, and set her flickering gaze on a button with Konrad’s name printed on it. Relief came when she managed to call him on a second line without hanging up the first.

  “What is it?” His clipped tone annoyed her. Had he no appreciation for screening angry women for him?

  “Tamsin is on line one. Can I transfer her to you?” Shit. Scottie would have to figure out how to do that too.

  He sighed heavily. “Ah, fuck.”

  His swear startled Scottie.

  Konrad’s inappropriateness continued, but his swear was exasperated. Dread laced his voice. Scottie turned to face him through the glass wall, watching him rake his free hand through his dark golden hair. She felt sorry for him in a way, though he didn’t deserve it. Tamsin, if she was indeed the same Tamsin White, had every right to call, ready to rip him a new one.

  Finally, he said, “Tell her I’m on a call, and I’ll get back to her when I can.”

  “She seems really upset…” Now Scottie felt sorry for Tamsin and actually wanted someone to rip Konrad a new one. He needed to be brought down a peg, of that Scottie was most certain.

  “That’s not my concern,” he barked, meeting her gaze from across the aisle. “Do as I said, and tell her I’m on a call. Understand?”

  Scottie looked back at the phone. She didn’t want her face to betray her. Not on day one. She was suddenly hot in her black pants and long-sleeved, button-up shirt. What a complete ass. As far as Scottie was concerned, Tamsin losing out to Antonia was the best thing that could’ve happened to her. In an even tone, she said, “I understand.”

  “Fantastic, Scottie.”
The dial tone charged through the line with his dismissal.

  Cursing under her breath, Scottie pushed on line one, bracing herself for another round of verbal melee. “I’m sorry. Mr. Korr is on a call at the moment. May I take a message and call-back number?”

  “But of course he is.” She grunted, drawing in a noisy sigh that hurt Scottie’s ears. “You tell that tosser I’ve made a reservation for dinner at L’Atelier tonight at eight. He’d better be there.”

  Good luck with that.

  Scottie wanted to tell her the truth. It pained her that she couldn’t. “I will relay the message.”

  I’m a bad person.

  Tamsin hung up with a swear and not a goodbye. Again, left with the dial tone raging in her ear, Scottie sighed, placing the receiver in the cradle. God, it was going to be a long day.

  ****

  Almost five. Scottie counted down with her computer clock, relief coming every second. When five came, she finally relaxed. Every muscle in her body loosened. Working sucked. This was not what she expected. It had been almost four months since she’d graduated, and she expected to be in a real career, not desperate for a temp job because she’d run out of the money her grandmother had given her for college. Scottie kicked herself for not getting an internship in the spring as many of her fellow BBA classmates did. Scottie should not have dragged her feet to find a real job. Totally her own fault. She probably deserved a jerk boss for not getting her shit together sooner. Still, that seemed too cruel, considering how much of a jerk her boss had proven himself to be.

  Scottie filled in her A-Plus Temporaries timesheet, writing in six hours of work. Six hours was better than no hours. The pay was decent, but she knew this would be temporary for sure. She’d need a permanent job. A career. She needed to take control of her adult life, now that her finances were her own problem and her struggling single mom wouldn’t be able to offer any support. Scottie didn’t want her to. Her mother had sacrificed enough for Scottie, her only child.

  Scottie’s gaze fell over Konrad Korr’s name printed at the top of the timesheet. His signature authorized her paycheck. She’d have to remember that when he was being an ass and she wanted to tell him where to get off. But for some reason, she smiled when she thought about him, her body thrumming with light sensations. Her muscles tensed again with the realization of how much she was still curious about him despite his rollercoaster moods. No, you can’t think of him like that. He was a womanizer and an arrogant ass. She should know better.

  Standing from her desk, she pep-talked herself. Tomorrow would be better. She knew what to expect. She knew how to appease Konrad. Satisfied with the acceptance of her predicament, she stepped out of her cubicle. Konrad, moving around the corner, slammed into her at near full speed. She yelped, his large hands going for her, grabbing her under the armpits.

  “Verdammt!” he said, his gaze wide. Never mind the awkward way he held her. “Are you all right? Did I knock the wind out of you?”

  Scottie couldn’t find a word. Language left her completely. Only the hot hands under her armpits, fingers too close to her nipples, had her full attention. To her dismay, waves of heat ran straight down where they shouldn’t have been. She was turned on. No denying this blatant fact. Oh God.

  Hot and humiliated, she wiggled free from him. “I’m fine. Did you have to come around that corner so fast?”

  “You’re right. I apologize for almost knocking you over.” He stepped back, and stupidly she wanted his hands on her again.

  Stop it.

  The curve of his lips caught her attention. “I … uhh…” She stumbled over her words, still grappling with the way her body responded to him. Meeting his eyes again, she knew he’d caught her staring at his mouth. Shit. What am I doing? Taking her attention from him, she bent over to pick up her purse, which had fallen to the floor. “It’s fine. No worries.”

  “Well, have a good night then. Sorry again.”

  “Thanks. You too.” She slipped from under his magnetism and dashed out of the office. For the first time, she’d felt his male power. His sexual power. The power that made women gravitate to him. Despite how much she fought it, Scottie could understand it. She could totally understand why Tamsin was so pissed. If Scottie had met Konrad out in a bar, she might fall under his spell too.

  She needed to get out of the Korr Corp building stat, and away from Konrad.

  Thirty minutes later, Scottie eased her ten-year-old Nissan sedan into the driveway of the duplex house in the Heights she rented with Tara, her childhood friend.

  Fresh-baked bread scented the small house. Tara was a chef, trying to get her catering business off the ground. She’d been an apprentice to a well-known chef who owned L’Atelier, the most upscale restaurant in Houston. Unfortunately, few of his patrons had called for her services once she’d struck out on her own. By the smell of the apartment and the bags and boxes all over the kitchen, Scottie concluded she’d finally gotten a gig.

  “Tara,” Scottie called, tossing her keys on the small dinette table. Tara stood from behind the island separating the kitchen from the dining area, a pissed-off look on her face. “Are you okay?”

  Scottie grabbed a banana from the counter and peeled it.

  “Those are my bananas,” she snapped, stopping Scottie mid-bite.

  Scottie lowered the banana. What the hell is her problem? “Thanks, Tara. I had a great first day at my new temp job. Thank you for asking.”

  Tara released a noisy breath. “It’s the fourth of the month, you know.”

  “Yeah…” Scottie knew what this was about.

  Tara glowered at Scottie, her lips pursing, holding back terse words Scottie knew had been festering since September first. Scottie stalled. She wasn’t in the mood for Tara’s complaints. Not when she still felt her new boss’s hands on her side-boobs.

  The silence irked Scottie. She hated when Tara got that way. And, as usual, Scottie spoke first. “I get paid next Friday. You know I just started this job. Can you just spot me until then?” Scottie put the banana back on the counter. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

  “That’s the fifteenth, Scottie. Rent is considered late on the tenth. You know that.”

  Scottie pushed her hair back. “So, you can’t spot me until then?”

  Tara’s hand shot down, slamming against the counter, startling Scottie. “You still owe me a hundred dollars that I covered for you from last month’s rent.”

  “Jesus, Tara. You know the money my grandmother left me ran out two months ago, and I just got this job after looking all summer for one.”

  Tara grunted. “Hardly.”

  Scottie’s anger simmered. They’d had this hanging between them for months. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Tara shook her head. “You really didn’t try, Scottie.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Scottie thought she might cry any moment. She hated fighting with Tara. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find something suitable in your acceptable time frame.”

  “It’s called being an adult, Scottie. You do what you have to do.” Tara scrubbed her face. “Look, I can’t cover for you this month. I’m barely making it, as you already know.”

  Scottie sighed. Tara was right. “What do you want me to do?”

  Tara turned back to the cluttered counter. “I’m catering a last-minute dinner tonight, and I couldn’t find affordable last-minute help. You can pay off the hundred by helping me tonight.”

  Hell no! Scottie groaned. Hospitality wasn’t her game. With her luck, she’d trip and spill red wine on some rich woman’s white couture dress. But did she really have another choice? “How long is it?”

  Tara’s eyes turned to slits. “It doesn’t matter. You owe me.”

  She was right. Scottie did owe her. And she’d still owe her once the night was over. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m not wearing an apron.”

  Tara tossed a folded apron at Scottie’s head. “You will wear one. And you’ll enjoy it.”

  S
cottie sighed. There was no other choice.

  Chapter Three

  Konrad glanced at Pilar, the purr of his prized sports Mercedes coupe engine vibrating through him as he eased the car through the underground garage of the Museum District high-rise where Antonia lived. He caught Pilar uncross her long tan legs from the corner of his eye. Was he really about to take a woman into his inner circle? The circle he kept only for himself?

  “You’re not okay, are you?” She smoothed down her curtain of straight dark hair over her shoulder.

  He parked the car, his gaze dancing over the tiny, fitted white dress barely covering the tops of her thighs. Thighs he knew like the back of his hand. “I just don’t want to give you the wrong impression. That’s all, love. You know I’m not the committing type.”

  She laughed, putting him at ease. Her black eyes twinkled in the dim garage light coming in through the windshield. “And I’m not either. I’m only twenty-one! So, don’t worry. I know this doesn’t mean anything.”

  Twenty-one. Seven years his junior. Sometimes he thought she could be older with her maturity. She was right though. It didn’t mean anything. None of the women he dated meant anything. Not to be cruel, but it was a fact. All women he pursued knew this upfront. They all agreed, though some women later decided they couldn’t be casual. Pilar hadn’t been one of those women.

  “Off we go, then.” He rubbed her smooth thigh before he opened the door.

  With his hand pressed against Pilar’s lower back, Konrad knocked on the front door of Antonia’s penthouse. Antonia’s housekeeper Mary opened it, greeting them and offering to take Pilar’s purse. Loud voices came from the living room where Konrad’s friends had been talking and drinking, lounging on the art deco couches. Tylund was alone, which annoyed Konrad. Fabian swore everyone had a date. Melina, Antonia’s best friend, was there sans a date as well.

  “Good evening,” Antonia said, standing from the couch and walking over to greet Konrad and Pilar.