“Take off the terrible sweater, too.”
Savannah swallows…what? Her anger? Her pride? Then she sheds the gray woolen blob. That’s a point for her. She might actually know which battles are worth fighting and which aren’t.
Finally, she approaches, hands clasped in front of her.
I want to eat her whole. But I can’t. First, I don’t need the hassle. She’s a woman who would require entanglements. And second, maybe I’m having a rare twinge of conscience, but I could utterly destroy her. Under that hard-knock-life veneer lies Pollyanna. I won’t be the man who shatters her illusions. Let some other asshole take the blame for that.
“Of course, Mr. Force. Let me first say it’s an honor to meet you.” She sticks out her hand.
I take it. Her fingers are slender, her bones delicate, her skin soft, but her palms have calluses. She’s known hard work. Good. That will serve her well if she stays.
I do my best to ignore the zip up my spine. My touch lingers longer than it should. My cock, the greedy bastard, throbs for more.
“The cat?” I prompt impatiently.
She’ll learn quickly I don’t waste time.
“Of course. How can I help you?”
“He’s overdue for his heartworm medicine. Give it to him.”
A little frown settles between her brows. “How overdue?”
How long ago did Miranda leave? “Six months, maybe more. Does it matter?”
“It does. Have you tried and failed to give it to him or simply not tried at all?”
I’m surprised—not unpleasantly—by how direct her question is. “I don’t fail at things, Ms. Blythe.”
A polite curl of her lips tells me she’s annoyed and she thinks I’m an ass. Most people wouldn’t be able to decipher her expression, but I haven’t made a few billion dollars without learning to read a room. “Of course not. What I’m asking is if the cat has rejected it completely or whether you’ve simply been too busy to administer the medication.”
Her recovery is decent. She’s quick on her feet.
I smile back. “Some of both, actually. I did attempt several times. He refused it outright. It slipped my mind after that until a recent vet visit.”
“Did the vet say there’s a problem? I mean, other than the cat needing his monthly pill?”
“You’d have to ask my housekeeper, Wendy.”
“And I take it she’s not here?”
“No.” And even if she was, I’m not in the mood to share an instant of this delicious girl’s time or attention with anyone yet.
“Have you noticed a change in his appearance or demeanor?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
Her too-polite smile says she suspects I’m giving her the runaround. Her instincts are good.
“You must have noticed something. He is your cat.”
“He isn’t.”
She cocks her head at me. Clearly, she thinks I’m arguing for the sake of arguing. This is one time she’d be wrong.
“Obviously, the reputation of cats is that they don’t allow humans to own them, merely care for their whims, but surely you spend time with him—”
“No, because he’s not my cat.”
She frowns, seemingly perplexed. “He doesn’t live here? If not, why are you—”
“He does.”
“Mr. Force, did you or did you not adopt him?”
“I didn’t. Someone left him here.”
“Who?”
I’ve been leading her down this conversational path, mostly for my amusement because she’s tenacious and more than slightly clever, but my next question will tell me whether she’s even remotely prepared to play in my league.
Probably not, and I’m likely doomed to disappointment, but I’m savoring this last moment of anticipation. “I can’t answer that question unless you sign a nondisclosure form.”
She’s surprised, but to her credit, she wipes her expression clean a heartbeat later and quickly chooses a different tactic. “Your demand is unreasonable for such a simple question. You know what I think?”
“I’d love to hear.”
“You don’t really want help with the cat. If you did, you wouldn’t have played such ridiculous games of semantics or demanded I sign an NDA. As such, I’d like to move on and talk about your open executive assistant position. I’ve brought an extra copy of my résumé and I’m happily prepared to discuss any questions you may have about my education or—”
“You’re wrong.”
Savannah raises a dark brow. “In what way?”
“I really do want help with the cat. I simply can’t answer your question without legal protection.”
“Won’t, not can’t.”
I shrug. “Sign the form, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“You’ve said nothing that even remotely compels me to sign a legal document meant to muzzle me, especially since I’m sure you’ve had the city’s finest lawyers draft it to your very great advantage.”
“Actually, the country’s best lawyers. Boston’s best were merely passable.”
Her smile turns tight. “Of course. What’s your cat’s name?”
“Hades.”
“As in the ruler of the underworld?”
“You know your Greek mythology?”
Now she looks insulted. “I know a great many things, Mr. Force, including how to feed Hades his medicine. Do I need to sign a nondisclosure form for you to tell me whether I can find his cat food in the kitchen?”