Live For Me (Blurred Lines #2)(4)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“And where do you come from, Tiffany?” He sounded mildly curious, nothing more. He had a low, smooth voice, masculine.

“Vinalhaven.” The black dog ran over to me, sniffing at my leg, and I bent over to pet his silky coat, gauging him to be a Lab. “Hey, buddy,” I murmured.

“Where is that?” the man asked, divesting himself of his coat and tossing it on the end table.

“It’s the island across the way.”

“That craggy looking island? Where like twelve people live?”

I nodded, shoving my hands in my pockets self-consciously.

“Ah,” he said. “That explains it.”

Explained what? But he stepped into the light from the family room then, and I lost the ability to speak. My question shriveled up and died on my lips. If this was Mr. Gold, and I had to assume it was, he was not sixty-five years old, botoxed, or dressed like a pretentious douchebag.

He was more like thirty. Sexy. Wearing what looked like expensive but ordinary jeans, a plaid shirt, a bag in his hand. An overnight bag. He had strong features, an angled jaw, and hair that was carelessly too long, varying in color from dark brown to caramel to sand, though it didn’t look done in a salon. Either he had a hell of a hairdresser, or it was naturally the work of the summer sun, now growing out.

My shoulders rose up further, my arms tightly at my sides, hands deep in my pockets as my heart rate shot up from a reaction that was not fear. Mr. Gold was Mr. Gorgeous. He wasn’t traditionally attractive. His nose was too long, his brow too furrowed. But there was something about the way that he’d been put together that was commanding, powerful. Just sexy. Holy shit. So good and so awful all at the same time, because I wasn’t comfortable around men in general, and certainly not a good-looking one.

He scratched the beard stubble on his chin. “So where is Hattie? Are you a niece of hers or something?”

“Um…” He didn’t know that Hattie had quit? Bad to worse. “I’m her replacement, sir. She’s moving to Florida to live with her son.”

He frowned. “Stop calling me, sir. It makes me feel grandiose. And old.” He tilted his head and looked me up and down. “Though compared to you I guess I am old.” His expression was amused, rueful. “Maybe even crusty.”

Not the adjective I would use to describe him. I was suddenly aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra, and didn’t even need one. Because my shirt was too short, a large sliver of my belly was showing. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Just stood there.

“I’d forgotten Hattie quit. My assistant said she hired a replacement. Am I to take it that’s you?”

“Yes. Today is my first day.” Hopefully not my last. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. Like he found me curious. Lacking. He clearly thought I was too young for the job. My palms started to sweat. I had zero experience being in the company of hot older guys who were rich. I didn’t even have any experience with young, ugly, broke guys. I’d spent most of high school taking care of my grandmother or hanging out online when I could sneak away from her. “You have a beautiful house.”

He looked around, like he was seeing it for the first time. “I suppose I do, don’t I? Thanks, Tiffany. And I guess I should introduce myself. Devin Gold.” He dropped his bag on the floor and held his hand out to me.

Wiping my own hand quickly on the inside of my pocket to rid my skin of clamminess, I hastily raised it and put it into his. I expected a quick, swift, nothing of a touch, but he gripped my hand firmly and held it longer than I was comfortable with.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, studying me intently.

His interest wasn’t sexual. I’d seen enough of that from sweaty older foster brothers. It was just an… assessment. He was a businessman after all. He had created massive success for major music stars. He obviously knew how to read people. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.

Most likely I didn’t want to know.

But the scrutiny had me raising my chin slightly. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was maintain my pride with someone else in the power position. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Sir.”

He laughed softly and let go of my hand. “Come in the family room, Tiffany, and keep me company. You can tell me why a young girl wants to housesit by herself in a pretentious mini-mansion on an obscure part of the Maine coast.”

And maybe he could tell me why he was there and how soon he was leaving. His presence was unnerving. Okay, it was also arousing. But that was bad. Really, really bad. I could not develop a crush on my boss. He would think I was completely ridiculous if he found out, and he’d fire me. I would have nowhere to go if I lost this cushy gig.

Slapping his hand to his thigh to call the dog, he moved into the family room. “It’s dark in here. You can override the timers, you know. Just use the switches.”

“I like the dark,” I lied, not wanting to admit that I’d been afraid imaginary serial killers were creeping around outside checking me out.

“I like the dark too.” He went over to the fireplace and opened the doors. “But I also like a fire. Can’t do that at my place in Manhattan.”

Sitting down on the easy chair, I busied my hands by petting the dog, who had come right over and rested his head on my knees. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Amelia.”

“So you’re a girl,” I murmured to the Lab, rubbing behind her ears.

“I like girls,” Mr. Gold said, his back to me as he skillfully built a pyre from the woodpile recessed into the stone wall.

The words seemed flirty, charming. But the tone didn’t. He just sounded matter-of-fact, which was way more unnerving than if he had been shamelessly flirtatious. My minimal experience with guys had been limited to boys and creepers. Plus a handful of foster fathers who had been decent men, like Cat’s dad. That was it. I didn’t know how to read Mr. Gold. And I couldn’t bring myself to think of him as Devin. That name was too familiar, too romantic, too college student. It would be too easy to forget he was my employer if I was thinking of him as Devin. He was going to have to stay Mr. Gold while he was there.

“You’re a pretty girl,” I told Amelia as her earnest dark eyes stared up at me. It was much easier to talk to animals than it was to humans.

Within another minute there was a fire blazing and he stood back up, stretching. I could practically smell the manliness so I crossed my legs. Tightly. It was a suck ass time for my hormones to decide to stand at attention. But there was something intriguing about him and as he moved past the coffee table he gave a nod to the open doughnut box.