He shrugs. “Go ahead. I don’t have one.”
I narrow my eyes. “So I can check your criminal record, but not your employment history? Does that sum it up?”
A nod. “Pretty much.”
Another battle I’m not going to win. I hope that’s not a sign of things to come.
“All right.” I gesture toward the hall. “Let’s get on with it.”
Caden
I’m propped against the edge of my new desk and Cat is in the chair, tapping away at the keyboard as she does her thing. I’m aware I’m being unreasonable about my employment history, although it’s not for the reasons she thinks.
I’ve never given my employers anything but 110 percent, and all the outfits I’ve worked for have thrived under my care. I don’t have a record either.
I’m a bastard, not a criminal.
Asking her to trust my abilities without proof or references is a lot. I understand that, but I can’t risk her calling because I don’t want a trail back to me. It’s really that simple. Part of why I’ve played my cards the way I have, including showing up for the interview in the first place, is because Gabe assured me the McKay’s were desperate and he’d vouch for me.
I’m being a hardass, and it’s created friction between Cat and me. Friction that certainly doesn’t help the heat between us. I’m going to have to find a way to fix it.
This job is perfect for me and fell right into my lap just before I ran out of money and couches, so nothing is going to ruin it.
Not the past.
Not my self-destructive streak.
Not Cat McKay with her flashing silver eyes.
I’m going to do right this time.
I glance down at the woman staring far too intently at a computer screen. She’s dressed in a yellow sleeveless top and jeans, looking sexy and adorable and breakable. There’s always got to be one fly in the ointment, and she’s clearly it. I don’t want to want her, but I do, and chemistry simmers below the surface of all our interactions.
The question is what to do about it.
My attention snags on the curve of her neck. Her hair is in one of those messy buns, strands spilling out to curl over the base of her neck and brush across her cheeks. I have the urge to bite her, hard enough to leave the mark of teeth before sucking her soft skin and soothing the sting with my tongue.
Obviously, that won’t do at all.
The only thing I can think of is to stick to my plan and keep things as cordial as possible. Keep things polite. And don’t engage.
I can’t respond to her prickliness.
Or that chip she has on her shoulder.
Or her desire to fight with me.
The best way to quell the heat is to be as impassive and professional as possible.
She jabs aggressively at the enter key and then nods. “Okay, you’re in.”
“Great.” I straighten and turn to face the computer, leaning down to get a better look.
She glares up at me. “Do you mind?”
I’m not inappropriately close. It only feels that way because of the tension between us, and as much as I want to say something suggestive and confronting, I ignore the urge and move to grab the chair on the other side of the desk.
I drag it over before settling in. I smile at her, all pleasant like. “Better?”