Conflict of Interest

chapter 10


Morning sun warmed Scott’s back as it crested the mountains outside. It crept through the bay window behind him, permeating the shades meant to keep light out but still let people see through the large windows. He stared at the donut in front of him as people chattered in the crowded coffee shop. The wooden chair was one of the few in the eclectic dining area with no padding, but he barely noticed the hard seat against his back.

Every time he thought back to the night before, his blood pressure spiked. He didn’t know if he was more upset with Hank, or with Zach for having the balls to ask Kenzie to stay on. No, he did know. He still wanted to hop the next plane to LA to grind Cartee into a bloody pulp. But this whole publicity facade was a freaking joke. He didn’t even know why he was pretending anymore.

He pushed his donut and coffee aside and pulled out his PSP. He should be game testing. Right. Getting some work done would take his mind off things. He waited for the load screen and clicked into his latest save file. He needed to know if the physics were working on this level, whether or not the game play was too complicated this early on, if the means to defeat the end-level boss were clear without being too obvious…

If he should call Kenzie and apologize, if he should find a way to kick Cartee off the board…

A sniper’s bullet tore through his character, and his screen splattered red. He snarled at the device and set it aside with a sigh. That was only about the twentieth time that had happened in the last half hour. Probably not a good sign.

The jangle of the front door mingled with the chatter around him, and he looked up. His mood twisted into something he couldn’t identify when he saw Kenzie make her way to the counter. Like so many mornings, her hair was in a ponytail, and her sweatshirt was tied around her waist, showing off a white tank top that hugged her perfectly.

And she was staring intently at the menu, jaw set, face tight. No one should look that tense on a Saturday morning. Maybe if the two of them found someplace quiet she’d let him tear that hair elastic out…

He pushed the thought away. It was probably time for him to find a new one-night stand. One that actually only lasted one night.

Or an actual girlfriend, he hadn’t had one of those in a while. Then he could prove he was all mature and shit like was expected of him. That ought to make Kenzie happy. Someone to use him as a dress-up doll twenty-four seven and keep him in line when she wasn’t around. Oh, right, he always got tired of those women ages before they became long-term relationships.

She placed her order and turned, and his hand shot up in a wave before he could talk himself out of it. She hesitated, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, and then wove her way over. She took the seat across from him, sitting up so straight her back never touched the chair.

“Morning.” Her expression was flat.

“Hey.” He hated the lack of anything coming from her, but it was appropriate he supposed. “I’m sorry again about last night.”

“You and everyone but the one guy who should be.” She pursed her lips. “But thank you for stepping in. I wish it hadn’t come to that.”

A question tried to force itself past his lips, and he bit it back. He wasn’t going to ask whether or not she’d decided to stay on. There was no reason to pressure her. Or to even care. If she decided no, he could go back to doing what he wanted when and how he wanted.

“How’s the game coming along?” She nodded at his handheld.

“It’s good. Hopefully a hit, but it’s hard to tell before the sales numbers start coming in.” Disappointment wormed through him, and it took him a moment to realize it was because she hadn’t scolded him yet for the ratty camo pants, or stained white T-shirt, or for playing his game without ear buds, or anything. And she had yet to smile. “So, um, how have you been?”

Her mouth twisted in dry amusement. “It’s been twelve hours. Not a lot has changed.”

A shift in mood, a chink in her shell. He leaped at the chance to widen it. “You’re sure. You haven’t changed jobs, gotten engaged, started a family?”

Her smile threatened to become full-formed. “No. Though there was this guy…”

After less than twelve hours? Why did that send a dull thud through his chest? He kept the reaction from his face, but he couldn’t hold back the subtle dig. “Sounds enticing. I bet he was a spiffy, well-dressed gentleman.”

She gave a small laugh. “Quite. Even better, he told me, and I quote ‘I don’t normally like women who are taller than me, but the way you wear those heels is just so sexy.’”

He’d heard some bad lines in his life, but that was horrible. “He’s got a point, you do look sexy in heels. But you also do those Keds justice, so that’s kind of a toss-up. So the two of you are going to make happy, beautiful public appropriateness together?” Why was he pushing this?

Pink crept over her cheeks, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Large green tea, room for cream?” A voice carried over the crowd, and someone behind the counter held a cup in her direction.

She was on her feet in an instant. “I should go.”

His disappointment grew. Would this be the last time they talked? Was high-heels guy waiting for her at home?

The corner of her mouth tugged up, and then the smile vanished again so quickly he wasn’t sure he’d seen it. “And nothing happened,” she said as she turned away. “Like actual nothing, not the pretend nothing that’s really something with us. I’ll see you Monday. At least wear a clean T-shirt.”

Really something? A wave of relief washed over him, and he wasn’t sure if it was related to the fact she wasn’t quitting or that she hadn’t gone home with another man. He didn’t fight his smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

*

Kenzie poured milk and honey into her tea, stirred it all together, and dropped the stick into the trash. She wasn’t going to turn around. There was no reason to head back to the table and sit and chat. Scott wasn’t on the clock, and it would just ruin the mood if she gave him a hard time for the High Tops that looked like they were only staying on thanks to an act of God.

She sipped her tea as she headed home. Why had she even come here? She knew the answer, but she was loathe to admit it. She’d spent the last twelve hours reminding herself she was done with this job. That she was resigning on Monday. But still she’d convinced herself it wouldn’t hurt to swing by the coffee shop. It would be the perfect reminder of why she needed to quit.

And instead she’d all but said she was staying on. It was the right thing to do. She could teach that jackass Hank Cartee that Scott was a better man and prove herself at the same time. As long as she and Scott kept their hands off each other moving forward.

She navigated the familiar route, finding herself home much sooner than she wanted. She trudged up the steps, trying to figure out how to approach things from here on out.

Her phone chimed, and she pulled up the new email from her boss, Greta. There was a URL and a note: Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.

Ill-ease crawled through her, and she clicked the link. Her stomach flipped in on itself when she saw the website. Maybe she should have resigned after all.

* * * *

Scott looked up from his work when a shadow crossed his office. Kenzie stood in the doorway wearing slacks, a matching cream jacket, and a dark shirt buttoned all the way to the top. Did it make her head ache to pull her hair back that tight?

Still, she was there. He hid his smile. He was only relieved she was back because it meant more fun and games, right? He nodded to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat.”

Her expression didn’t change. She strolled the short distance to the padded leather, set her laptop bag next to her on the ground, and perched—he couldn’t think of a better word for it—with her legs crossed. “Mr. McAllister.”

Not this again. He kept his tone pleasant, trying to figure out what he was up against. “Good morning. You look nice.”

Her right eye twitched. That was new. She took a deep breath. “Why do you have so many issues?”

The sharp edge in her question sliced through him, and his curiosity shifted to hurt. “Excuse me?”

“I mean publicly, in general.” She maintained her straight-backed posture, expression flat. “You’re not in a high-profile industry, not as far as executives are concerned. You’re not some big-shot Hollywood celebrity. You’re a metaphorical suit. Why do I have to worry about things like photos of you in compromising positions showing up on websites? What’s so special about your personal life that it’s public enough to make your investors nervous?”

She was only just asking these questions? “Shouldn’t you already know that? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“You’d think that. I certainly did.” She managed to pull a manila folder from her laptop bag without bending over and rested it in her lap. “I know it happens, but I want to know why. People care about actors, politicians, public faces. But you’re just a software developer. Why does anyone care how you spend your weekends?”

Just? His eyes narrowed at the accusation and the disdain for his job. What had happened between Saturday and now? Had thinking about the situation with Cartee really soured her this much?

He shouldn’t go on the defensive, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this hostility. “Maybe if you’d paid attention to our company, instead of just harping on what a f*ckup I am, you’d know that.”

“Maybe if you were taking this seriously, instead of using a couple of stolen kisses as an excuse to not do what you’re supposed to, I might have time for things like that.”

The honest accusation caught him off-guard, but he recovered quickly. This wasn’t about them, it was about his company, and that was more important than almost anything. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “When you took this job, did you look at all into how we’ve built our public image?”

She glared at him. “Of course. Stop trying to change the subject.”

A growl slipped out before he could stop it, and he clenched his jaw, forcing his temper back under control. “I’m giving you answers. Consider listening. Bad press almost destroyed us when we started out, and we learned from that. We’ve used every public moment since as publicity—if it’s going to happen anyway, we’re going to control it. Besides, keeping our antics exposed to the public eye reminds the fans we’re just like them. A side effect is we have a handful of obsessive fans who like to post pictures of us on their Tumblrs. Do I get to know where the third degree is coming from?”

She pulled something from the folder and slid it across his desk. It came to a stop at the edge. He glanced at the printed photos, meaning to dismiss them. He bit back a curse when he saw what they were, not wanting to show how much this was getting under his skin. It was the two of them from dinner, tucked in the back corner of the restaurant looking very cozy right before Cartee interrupted them. How the hell had those gone public? No, better question, why did they exist?

“Explain again.” Her icy tone cut through his shock. “Why you have paparazzi-like stalkers posting things like this to gaming forums.”

He fumbled for a response, knowing she expected a good one. He couldn’t find anything but the truth. “I don’t know. This has never happened outside of things like conventions, magazine interviews, stuff like that.”

She gritted her teeth, eyes hard. “That’s not good enough. Maybe you could have been a little more up front with me about just how deep and f*cked up this fan obsession was. It might have been nice to know before my boss found these pictures. I told you when you hired me it had to be clear you had done so because of my professional skills. Now I have to reassure my employer that I’m actually doing my job instead of playing some executive’s afternoon distraction.”

He didn’t like the baseless accusations, but he’d also never meant to get her in trouble. His tone was as solid and emotionless as hers. “It’s never happened before, I swear to you. And it won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Her angry mask didn’t budge. “Because it can’t. Whatever f*cked-up game we’re playing has to stop. It doesn’t matter how good you may or not be with your fingers. We’re not a couple, this is a professional relationship, and anything else ends now.”

A new wave of anger and hurt surged through him. “I’m sorry, Miss Carter. I have always been under the impression you were a willing participant.”

She flinched, but didn’t look away. “That’s not my point.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. If we’re done, then I assume you have some new hoops for me to jump through? Things to make you and your career look good?”

She opened her folder, and scanned the papers still inside. “You’ve got a DECA meeting tomorrow at a local high school. Should be simple enough. Even you should be able to avoid compromising pictures.”

He clenched his fist, resisting the urge to slam it into his desk. Instead, he stood and moved to crouch in front of her. He stopped when they were at eye level, never touching her. His voice was low. It was the only way he could control his tone. “Be honest. Is this whole pictures thing really such a big deal that you have to storm into my office like the entire world is coming to an end? That you have to insult me?”

Her brows knit together. “This isn’t just about what the public may or may not think of you anymore. This puts my entire job at risk. People can’t start thinking I sleep with clients.”

Every word devoured him more. He stared at her, keeping his gaze locked on hers. Why couldn’t he drop this? He felt terrible that it might have gotten her in trouble, but his ego wouldn’t let him just walk away. “Did you enjoy it? Any of that horrific intimacy that you think is going to crush your soul? Did you get to prove to yourself that you’re not frigid?”

Her expression wavered again, uncertainty slipping in. She leaned toward him, and then her back went rigid again. “It doesn’t matter.”

His head swam at the light flower of her perfume. This was about proving a point. He wasn’t going to get sucked down the hole of how intoxicating she was. “It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes. I enjoyed it.” Her reply was almost lost in the hum of the air conditioner it was so quiet. “But it still doesn’t matter.”

Victory. Concession. So why did he still feel like a wounded dog? He leaned in, face inches from hers, struggling to ignore her scent and the warmth she radiated. “Sometimes, that’s the only thing that matters. Maybe you’ve got some serious soul-searching to do if you’re willing to surrender that for something as basic and superficial as what other people think of you.”

She didn’t pull away, but uncertainty flickered in her eyes. Her voice wasn’t as strong as it had been. “What aren’t you getting? This is a bit more serious than whether or not a couple of people like the way I hold myself in public.”

He knew that, so why couldn’t he admit it? Her words cut too deeply to ignore. He hated thinking he’d been the only one having fun. “I understand.” He didn’t move. “Are we done?”

“I suppose so.”

He leaned in, mouth near her ear. He forced his voice to remain steady, despite the almost overwhelming urge to kiss her long, slender neck. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

She inhaled sharply, but didn’t move.

Disappointment mingled with his anger, and he took his seat behind his desk again. “I have work to do.” He turned back to his computer, not able to look at her anymore. “I’ll call you after school tomorrow.”

She hesitated at the edge of her chair.

“Is that all?”

She didn’t answer, and seconds later his office door swung shut as she disappeared through it.

A sharp pain gnawed his chest. Why did her dismissal—her ability to write the entire thing off so easily—hurt so much?