“Well?” I asked haughtily when the silence had grown too thick.

“You expect me to believe you graduated with honors and the best you could find was a job as my personal assistant?”

I wanted to stab him in the eye with a pen so bad. “Believe what you want,” I seethed. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but the company I did my internship with had a hiring freeze, and the job market in New York isn’t exactly stellar for recent graduates. Everyone wants someone with experience,” I grumped sarcastically. “So I’m stuck with your cranky, narcissistic ass, because clearly, I’m being punished for something I did in a past life. Either that or karma’s just a raging bitch who likes to pick on the innocent!”

“You finished?” he asked casually.

“You know what?” I fumed, “I’m not. From here on out, the only way I’m doing another damn coffee run for you is if you give me enough money to buy myself one as well. And if you aren’t being a complete asshole, I might consider giving you back your change when I’m done.”

“Now you finished?” was all he said.

“Yes,” I bit out.

“Good. I need coffee.”

And with that, he turned and headed back into the kitchen.

I was pretty sure my head exploded.

Fuck me.

I shouldn’t have gotten a semi from her smart little mouth, but damn if my shorts hadn’t started feeling a bit tighter. And it had everything to do with the tiny spitfire standing in my living room, giving me a ration of shit like she owned the place.

I had to admit, seeing her all fiery and pissed off like that really did something for me. I didn’t just want to press her buttons; I wanted to jab on those motherfuckers until they stuck in place. Getting a rise out of her got a definite rise out of me.

That was not good.

I wasn’t the type of man to enjoy a woman beyond the one thing I truly needed her for, one thing that typically only lasted a few hours before we parted ways. Yes, I was aware that made me sound like an inconsiderate asshole, and yes, I also knew I lived up to that title spectacularly. But when the love of your life chewed you up and spit you out in the worst possible way, it had the power to leave a man seriously jaded about the opposite sex.

That was why I had desperately needed to escape the little minx, each angry inhalation causing those mouthwatering tits to rise and fall beautifully.

Christ, I hadn’t even known the girl was built like that. Her wardrobe had left little to be desired over the past few days, but the t-shirt she was wearing that morning was much more form-fitting than anything she’d worn before. How had I not realized how hot she was until that very moment?

And her ass in those jeans.

Lord, help me.

I was in serious fucking trouble.

“Excuse me?”

I rolled my eyes at her biting tone when she pushed into the kitchen as I hit the switch on the coffee maker. “Look,” I started, turning around to find her with her hands propped on her curvier-than-expected hips and murder in her denim-colored eyes. I had to clear my throat and give my head a little shake to dislodge the thought of what she’d look like naked from my mind. The only reason I was looking at her with even the slightest bit of lust was because I hadn’t gotten laid in the past five days.

That had to be it. There was no way I’d be attracted to a woman like her if I was in a rational frame of mind. No way at all…. right?

Her snapping voice pulled me back into reality. “What?”

“Huh?”

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded me like some sort of science experiment gone wrong. “You started saying something, but then you trailed off.”

“Oh, yeah…” I tried to get my brain back on track, but with how full her breasts looked in that goddamned t-shirt, I couldn’t think straight.

“Oh, for the love of God,” she grumbled as she stomped in my direction, pushing past me to grab a mug and fill it with coffee. I followed suit, thinking lack of caffeine was just another reason for the major mental malfunction I seemed to be having in her presence.

“First off,” she started after taking a gulp from her mug and setting it on the counter. “They’re called breasts,” she said, waving her hand in front of her chest. “They’re something I’m willing to bet you see on a daily basis.” I couldn’t help the smug grin that pulled at my lips—that was, until she continued on. “Although, I don’t see how you manage to pull in the kind of tail you do. Yeah, you’re hot and all, but the moment that mouth of yours opens, all that good flies out the damn window.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” I deadpanned, more than slightly insulted, even though I couldn’t understand why. I was more than aware of my reputation. And up until just then, other people’s opinions of me hadn’t mattered much. So, why was Navie’s judgment rubbing me the wrong way?

“Look, it’s more than obvious that we don’t like each other, and that’s fine. But I need this job, Rowan. Can we just… I don’t know, call a truce or something?”

As I studied the woman in front of me, I was hit with an emotion I hadn’t experienced in what felt like forever. An emotion I’d worked diligently over the years to tamp down whenever it started bubbling up inside of me—guilt.

Could I say with all honesty that I didn’t like her as she’d claimed? The answer was no, I couldn’t. For the past several days, I’d tried to convince myself that was the case. That her being an annoyance was the reason for my bad behavior, but that wasn’t the case. The longer I found myself in her presence, the more drawn to her I seemed to be. And that was a problem… a huge problem.

But I couldn’t, in good conscience, deny her request for a truce when she looked so sincere, staring up at me with those unusual blue eyes.

Just as my lips parted to answer her, the loud trill of my cell phone broke through the moment. With a deep sigh, I stepped from the kitchen to where my phone lay charging in the living room. The name that flashed across the screen shot a bolt of anxiety through my body.

“Mom?” I answered nervously, and for good reason. My mother and I only talked once, maybe twice a month. There were no unscheduled phone calls between us, so the fact that she was calling me out of the blue didn’t bode well.

“Rowan, sweetheart,” she spoke through the line. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m good, Mom. Is everything okay?” I heard Navie’s delicate footsteps coming into the room and I quickly retreated down the hall to my study, not willing to risk her overhearing my conversation. Just because I was willing to come to a grudging truce didn’t mean I trusted her with the very personal aspects of my life. There were things about my past that I’d busted my ass to keep out of the media.

The lock clicked into place as silence resonated through the phone line. “Mom? You there?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, dear.”

“Something’s wrong. What happened?”

A ball of dread lodged firmly in the pit of my stomach as my mother hesitated before finally saying, “It’s Richard.”

My jaw clenched as fear and anger coursed through my blood at just the mention of his name. In all the conversations I’d had with my mother over the years, there was one unspoken agreement we had. We never brought up his name.

“Is he hurt?” Just saying those three words caused nausea to roil in my stomach. I didn’t want to worry about him. I didn’t want to care.

“Oh, no. Richard’s fine, honey.”

In the same instance my chest loosened, the anxiety lessening its hold, frustration took its place. “Then can you please explain to me what the hell is going on?”