Читать книгу The Dare Collection January 2019 - J.C. Harroway - Страница 14

POPPY WAS LATE.

I stood by the windows in my office, looking down at the view of the street far below and the entrance to the building. The stream of people flooding into the offices had slowed to a trickle, just the late arrivals now, rushing towards the doors.

By God, one of them had better be her.

I shouldn’t be surprised that she wasn’t here yet but somehow I was and now my temper was straining at the leash.

Maybe she wouldn’t turn up at all.

Maybe she’d been playing with me when she’d said she’d take the job. Certainly she’d done enough of that as a kid. When I was supposed to be looking after her she’d suddenly disappear, which then involved a frantic search for her, only to have her turn up, sometimes hours later, in her bedroom or somewhere innocuous, looking all innocent.

Or when I was busy with study and needing quiet, she’d come into whichever area I was studying in and start playing loud games. Or sing. Or play music.

Even in my bedroom I wasn’t safe since her room had been next to mine. She’d put her music on and turn the volume up, the bass thumping through the walls. And when I politely told her to turn it down, she’d ignore me.

She seemed to live to drive me crazy and it looked like nothing had changed.

Turning from the window, I went back to my desk and tried to finish some last-minute tasks I had to tie up before I could get stuck in to my project. But as the minutes ticked by I found it harder and harder to concentrate.

Insanity. I’d never had this problem before. Normally the issue tended to be that I got so consumed in work that I lost track of time, not that I couldn’t concentrate in the first place.

Eventually, I shoved my chair back, got to my feet, pacing like a caged animal to get rid of the impatience that burned in my blood.

Fifteen minutes late and counting.

Was she doing this deliberately? Didn’t she understand what a ‘good reference’ meant? Yes, she might have got caught up in traffic or missed the bus, or train, or whatever transport situation she had to contend with, but at the very least she could have texted me that she’d be late. That would have been the courteous thing to do. Then again, when had Poppy ever been courteous?

Never. Not even the first day she’d arrived at our house. I’d been all set to welcome her, to try to be the kind of big brother figure my own brothers had been for me—someone she could count on to protect her, to take care of her. But she’d responded to all my attempts at friendly conversation with silence. Her chin had been set, her gaze hostile, and nothing I said or did had made any difference.

She seemed hell-bent on hating me right from the get-go.

If she knew what you’d done she’d hate you even more.

The thought insinuated itself in my head, snide and sharp. I ignored it.

Pacing over to the windows, I glanced at my watch yet again.

Nine o’clock.

Half an hour. She was fucking half an hour late.

I was on the point of reaching for my phone to call her and demand where the hell she was, when I heard my office door open.

There was only one person who entered without knocking and that was Ajax, and I wasn’t due for a meeting with him.

I turned round sharply to find Poppy sauntering in, leaving the door wide open behind her.

‘Hey,’ she said casually, coming to a stop in front of my desk. ‘Well, here I am.’

For a second words failed me. Because not only was she half an hour late, she was in black skinny jeans with rips in the knee, a tight-fitting black shirt that strained the button right between her beautiful tits and a pair of black basketball boots.

She looked like a high school student ready to go to class, not a twenty-five-year-old woman about to start a new corporate job.

Jesus. Did she really think that what she was wearing was appropriate? Or had she done that deliberately to annoy the shit out of me?

‘Sit down,’ I ordered, my tolerance for games at an all-time low.

Instantly her straight dark brows arrowed down. ‘You don’t need to—’

‘Sit. Down.’

A flare of anger turned her golden-brown eyes molten. Her mouth opened and I readied myself for a fight. But then she suddenly shut it again and smirked instead, wandering over to the chair opposite my desk and making a big production of sitting in it. Then she leaned back like she was sitting on the sofa at home, crossing her ankles and generally pretending not to be fazed by my order in the slightest.

Little witch.

I didn’t speak immediately, letting her sit there as I strode to the door and shut it. Then I came back to my desk, but didn’t sit. Instead I stood in front of it, crossing my arms, staring down at Poppy. Letting her see in no uncertain terms just how pissed off I was.

‘You’re late,’ I said flatly. ‘I told you to be here on time.’

She shrugged. ‘I had a problem with—’

‘And your clothes are inappropriate.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t—’

‘One chance, Poppy.’ I kept my voice cold. ‘One chance is all you get and already you’re blowing it.’

The smooth golden skin of her cheeks reddened. ‘If you’d let me finish, then maybe I could give you an explanation.’

I didn’t want to hear her explanation. Not that I could focus on it anyway because that damn button on her shirt kept pulling every time she breathed in, drawing my attention inexorably to the shape of her breasts. To the fullness of them. To the delicious curve of them under the faded black cotton.

‘I was late because Mum ran out of her meds and I had to go to the pharmacy to get her prescription.’ She took another breath, that damn button pulling tighter. Some of the threads had broken. Christ, it wouldn’t take much for it to simply pop off.

You should probably not be looking at it.

No, I probably shouldn’t.

With an effort I dragged my gaze from her shirt to her face. ‘Your mother can’t get her own prescription?’

‘My mother can’t organise her own bank accounts let alone go and get her own medicine. Not that I’d trust her to do it herself anyway.’

It was true that my father had done everything for Lily before he’d gone to prison, and she’d let him. I’d thought it was because Dad was a control freak, but maybe it hadn’t been that. Maybe Lily had been more than happy for him to do everything for her.

Knowing that didn’t lessen my annoyance and frustration one iota, however.

‘You should have texted me,’ I said curtly. ‘I won’t tolerate lateness, which you should know since I’ve already told you that at least twice.’

Poppy opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but I hadn’t finished.

‘Your clothes, though, are unacceptable, not to mention inappropriate for a corporate environment,’ I went on. ‘You’re going to have to go home and change.’

‘Seriously?’ She stared at me as though she’d never heard of anything so preposterous. ‘If you want me in pencil skirts and nice little blouses with pussy bows you’re shit out of luck. I don’t have any.’

‘Then go and buy some. There are plenty of shops out there that stock them.’

Her smirk disappeared and something else sparked in her gaze. ‘You specified that I wasn’t to be late. You said nothing about what I had to wear.’

‘I also specified that you were to fulfil any tasks I set you and if I want you to go out and buy some appropriate clothing then that’s what you’re going to do.’

That lovely mouth hardened, anger glittering in her eyes. ‘If my clothing is so important I’ll find something else for tomorrow, but today you’re going to have to suck it up.’

My own anger began to rise, thick and hot, unwelcome and unwanted. At her for arguing with me about something so pointless and at myself for being unable to let it go. For being unable to tear my attention from that fascinating button between her breasts.

The shirt was faded, the fabric cheap and the button hanging by a thread should have made her look tacky and slutty. Not my type at all. I liked a cool, poised woman. A woman who dressed well, who could hold a rational conversation without descending into sarcasm and snark. A woman who didn’t argue with me in the bedroom, who let me run the show the way I liked to.

The complete opposite of Poppy, in other words.

‘No.’ I attempted to keep hold of both my temper and the rising need to flick that button off, part the fabric, get a glimpse of the perfect curves of her breasts cupped by her bra. ‘You’ll go down to the department store and you’ll buy yourself a work-appropriate outfit and you’ll do it now.’

Anger flared in her expression. ‘Go to hell, you arrogant bastard.’

I moved before I could stop myself, taking one step over to the chair where she sat. Then I put my hand on the back of it, leaning over her then bending down, so my face was close to hers.

Her eyes widened and she went very still, the sweet scent of jasmine surrounding me. This close I could see how her golden-brown skin glowed, burnished by the light coming through my office window, and how delicate and silky-looking her lashes and eyebrows were. How vulnerable her lovely mouth seemed.

You goddamn idiot. What the hell are you doing? You know getting close to her is a mistake.

I did know. But I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted her to do what she was told without argument, because her fighting me was getting me angry and hard, and that simply couldn’t happen. My control was excellent but, as it turned out, not limitless when it came to her.

I wanted to intimidate her, quell her, make her stop pushing me for once in her goddamn life.

‘Do as you’re told,’ I said softly, letting a note of menace bleed through.

Her expression glazed and I could see something burning in the depths of her eyes. A spark of heat catching fire. As if she found me standing over her mesmerising. As if she liked it.

My free hand was lifting before I could prevent it, and I took hold of that maddening button and tugged. It came off easily, the plastic warm from her body, and she took a sharp, ragged breath.

And I looked because I couldn’t not, at the gaping fabric where that button should have been, at the curves of her lovely tits that were now revealed, cupped by the crimson lace of her bra.

I’d never wanted to touch anything so badly in all my life.

But this was Poppy. My stepsister. My employee. Who’d lost her father because of me. Whom I’d promised my own father I’d take care of, not claw at her shirt like a fucking animal.

Her breathing had got faster and I knew I should move away before I did anything stupid. But I stayed where I was and held that button up in front of her face, staring into her furious molten gaze. ‘Oh, look, you’ve lost a button. Can’t have my employees wandering around with their shirts gaping open, can I? So why don’t you stop arguing with me like a damn brat, and go and get yourself some decent bloody clothes?’

There was fire in her eyes, blazing hot. ‘No.’

She had no idea just how close to the edge I was. If she had, she’d never have looked up at me like that, fury and challenge pouring off her like heat from asphalt baking all day in the sun. Digging her heels in, making me want to do something to ensure her obedience. Making me want to...

Calm the fuck down. There’s something else going on here, can’t you see that?

I don’t know what alerted me. Maybe it was the slight flicker in her gaze, or the almost unnoticeable quiver of her bottom lip. Tiny hints that something wasn’t right.

I stilled, searching her face, studying her intently. And the more I looked at her, the more I realised that something was definitely wrong. Was that...fear? And if it was, what was she afraid of? Me standing over her? But no, it couldn’t be. I hadn’t mistaken that flare of heat in her eyes when I’d bent down to her. This was something else.

‘What is it?’ The question was sharp, a latent protectiveness lighting up inside me.

Her eyes went even wider and I caught that flicker once again.

Yes. It was fear.

‘Nothing,’ she said quickly. ‘And you’re bloody well harassing me again.’

But I’d got good at reading people, at searching for lies. And I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was lying to me right now.

I tossed the stupid button away and took her chin in my hand so she couldn’t turn away. ‘What is it?’ I repeated. ‘Something’s bothering you and I don’t think it’s me.’

She’d gone rigid. I could feel the tension in her jaw, the muscle tight beneath the silky heat of her skin, and I tensed too, expecting her to shove me away like she’d done yesterday.

But she remained still, her expression stubborn. ‘Of course it’s you, you prick. You’re leaning over me and you’re—’

‘It’s not. Stop lying to me, Poppy.’

‘I’m not buying those goddamned clothes,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Why not? Because if it’s just to argue with me then—’

‘It’s not just to argue with you.’ There was a defiant expression in her eyes now, the look of a soldier determined to go down fighting.

And I suddenly wanted to soothe her, stroke her lovely jaw with my thumb, tell her that it was okay, that she could tell me. It was disturbing. I didn’t even like the woman, let alone want her to tell me her secrets.

Instead I demanded, ‘Then why? Surely even you must realise that what you’re wearing isn’t appropriate?’

‘Yes, I know that.’

‘Then why—?’

‘Because I can’t afford to buy any, okay?’ She threw the words at me like stones. ‘Was that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?’

Ignoring the accusation in her tone, I frowned.

How could she not afford it? Last I’d heard she was earning money as a waitress and, even though waitressing wasn’t the world’s most highly paid job, there was also the allowance I continued to pay Lily. It was very generous for one person and there would certainly be enough to buy Poppy a few items for work if need be.

So was this another lie? But no, Poppy was too obviously furious with me, which meant she hadn’t wanted to tell me.

Interesting.

‘Why not?’ I kept a tight hold on her chin, trying not to be so conscious of the softness of her skin beneath my fingers and that tantalising gap in the fabric of her shirt. ‘You had a job, didn’t you?’

She jerked her head out of my grip. ‘I’m not explaining myself to you. Just leave me the hell alone.’

Her cheeks were flushed and it looked like shame. And part of me wanted to grab her again, force her to look at me, force her to tell me just what the hell was going on.

But I’d been too close to her for too long already and if I remained there any longer, I’d probably do something I’d regret. Besides, what did I care that she’d spent her money? I’d promised to take care of her and her mother, and I had. They had an allowance. It wasn’t my problem if they’d spent it all. Anyway, this pointless arguing was starting to eat into my work day and I had a lot to get through.

I straightened and forced myself back from her chair, digging in my pocket for my wallet and taking it out.

Poppy eyed me suspiciously. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘I’m not having you wandering around the office looking like that. You need appropriate work clothes and you need them now. So here’s some money to buy them.’ Extracting a few notes, I held them out to her.

For a moment she looked shocked. Then anger once again flooded her lovely face. ‘I don’t need your charity. I’ll get them—’

‘Be quiet,’ I snapped, my patience running out. ‘You’ll take this money and you’ll buy yourself something appropriate. And then you’ll come back and be ready for work. No more goddamn arguments.’

Poppy opened her mouth.

‘Unless you don’t want that reference after all.’

She shut it again and there was a long beat of silence where she simply stared at me, fury and a whole lot of other emotions I didn’t recognise burning like a wildfire in her eyes.

I stared back, oddly fascinated by how those emotions moved and shifted, and how brightly they burned. Passionate woman. What did all those feelings mean? Why was she so angry? And why hadn’t she wanted to tell me she had no money?

Why was she so angry with me all the bloody time?

More to the point, why do you care?

Good question.

But I didn’t have a chance to think about it, because she shoved herself out of the chair, snatched the cash from my hand and turned without a word to the door.

Then she stalked through it, slamming it behind her.