Sold to the Berserkers: A Menage Shifter Romance (9 page)

“Yes… do you find that daunting?”

She let out a short bark of laughter. “Yes,” she admitted. “But it would also be the main selling point.”

Her answer pleased him more than he wanted to admit. He needed to regain his footing. “Am I selling this job to you?” he asked drily.

“Oh—” Her smile vanished. “Of course not. I-I would be honored to be considered for the position, of course.”

He caught another whiff of her arousal. Was she turned on by his sternness? The same thing that made his employees complain about him? Wolves responded to dominance, but humans were a mixed bag. While he could make every one of his employees grovel with little more than a disapproving look, not all of them enjoyed submitting. This one, it seemed, lived for it. Maybe that was his attraction to her.

He opened the passenger side door for her and watched her shapely legs as she folded them into the car. When he climbed in beside her, he asked for her address and put it in his GPS. Then he began to grill her. “Education?”

“Bachelor’s in English/film studies from Colorado College.”

“Grade point average?”

“Three point eight seven, magna cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa.”

“Work history?”

“Three years as a barista at Starbucks, two years as waitress at Red Lobster. One internship with Channel Four News. Close to two years here.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.” She rubbed her temples.

He instantly regretted giving her the third degree. “I’m sorry, he said, softening his tone. “Am I making your head worse?” He realized she’d grown paler since they’d left the building.

“No,” she said, but he knew it was a lie.

“We don’t have to talk,” he said.

He muted the guidance system and followed the map, driving in silence until he reached her brick duplex in the hip but transitional Denver neighborhood.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning. Be ready by seven.”

Her mouth dropped. “What? Really?”

He wrote his cell phone number on the back of a card. “Call me if the migraine will keep you from going to work.”

She blinked at him, looking stunned. “You’re picking me up? In the morning?”

“Well, you left your car in the parking garage, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

He waved his hand impatiently with his usual rudeness, shooing her out of his car.

“Thank you, Mr. Stone.”

“Good night,” he said curtly, putting the car into gear before she even shut the door.

He needed to leave before he followed her in and tore her clothes off, marked her with his teeth, and claimed the little human… He shook his head. That couldn’t happen. Because she wouldn’t forgive it, for one thing. And he didn’t do relationships, for another. No, this very strange development, this sudden interest in a female human could not be pursued. Period.

He sighed and rubbed his palm over his face, her scent still lingering in his nostrils.

* * *

Despite the throbbing in her head, Ashley’s senses zinged from contact with Ben Stone. Talk about magnetism. Some said he had the personality of an ice cube, but all she’d sensed was pure masculine power. Even through his crisp designer suit, she’d seen the outline of sculpted muscles in his arms and chest. His dark, Latino looks dripped sexual prowess and the silence made him mysterious. And those pale green eyes had seemed to flicker to amber under the fluorescent lights at the office…

She dropped her things and started a bath, filling a washcloth with ice for the back of her neck. Heat on the body, cold on the head. Not that it ever worked. Nothing helped when she had a migraine. Her phone rang and she looked to see who was calling. Melissa—her twin sister. She hit talk. “Hey, how’s it going?”

Melissa lived two hours away in Colorado Springs, but they still spoke almost every day.

“Do you have a headache?”

“How can you tell?”

“Your voice gets all tight. I’m sorry. Did you try the hot bath, cold washcloth thing?”

“Trying it now. I’m taking you into the bathtub with me.”

“Just don’t drop your phone, you might get electrocuted or something,” Melissa teased.

She snorted. “I think that’s just with hairdryers.” She pulled her clothes off and stepped in the tub. “You’ll never believe who just took me home.”

“Who?”

“Ben Stone, the CEO and owner of Stone Tech.”

Melissa whistled. “Nice. How’d you swing that?”

She told her sister the whole story, from him finding her lying on the floor in her cubicle to telling her he had a personal assistant position open.

“So, what’s he like?”

“Super sexy in that dark, brooding Batman sort of way.”

“Did he say
I’m Stoneman?
” her sister asked, attempting a deep, throaty voice.

She giggled. “I wish I hadn’t had this migraine, because I screwed up my chances at the position by putting my foot in my mouth.”

“I don’t know, Ash. He’s picking you up in the morning. It kinda sounds to me like you have this one nailed.”

She tried to ignore the frissons of excitement her sister’s words caused. “I definitely wouldn’t say that. He’s a tough nut to crack. Totally unreadable.”

“What’s the scoop on him, anyway? He’s South American, right? And he moved here to run the company when his brother died?”

“Yeah, I read in
Business Weekly
that he’s half Latino. His mom was American and that’s where the name Stone comes from. He graduated from Harvard Business School and he’s only thirty. That’s about all I know. The company has sort of languished since Ben’s been CEO, but he refuses to step down and hire someone more experienced to run it even though the board has been pushing for it. He still owns the majority interest, so they can’t fire him.”

“So, you think he’ll get things figured out?”

“Well, he’s smart enough. Some people say he doesn’t care about the company, but I’m not sure that’s true. I don’t know, but I sure would like the chance to get close enough to him to form an opinion.”

“Well, tell him tomorrow when he picks you up.”

“Tell him what?”

“That you really want the job.”

Her pulse quickened just at the thought of sitting beside him in his car again. “Okay,” she said.

“You’re not going to,” her sister accused, probably catching the nervous twinge in her voice.

“No, I will. I will. You’re right. It’s worth groveling over.”

“So, guess who’s coming over here tonight?”

“Ooh, who?”

“Donny. The guy I met at the roller derby meet. Remember I was telling you about him?”

“Of course I remember.” She couldn’t always keep track—her sister was a bit of a serial dater. “That’s awesome. What are you going to do?”

“We’re just going to watch a movie we talked about that night we met.”

“Mmm hmm. Sure you’re just going to watch a movie,” she teased.

“Well, if stuff happens in the dark, I’m not going to call 9-1-1 or anything,” Melissa said with a laugh.

They chatted a little more and she hung up, leaning her head back against the cool porcelain of the tub, the ice tucked up behind her neck. This migraine had better be gone by tomorrow morning because there was no way she was missing out on another ride with Ben Stone.

* * *

The next morning, she changed five times before she finally settled on a short, fitted skirt and silk blouse. Her headache had mostly disappeared, although the aura of it still made her face feel tight and her eyes appear too small. She stood at the window of her duplex, ready to go by 6:45 a.m.

Even so, when the black Mustang pulled up, she snatched up her things and dashed out as if she were late. Ben was just getting out of his car when she came flying down the porch steps to the sidewalk. He stopped, leaning against the car, gazing at her with a speculative look. “Good morning, Ashley.”

“Good morning, Mr. Stone,” she said breathlessly.

She opened the car door and got in, holding her satchel primly in front of her. She suddenly wished she owned a nicer briefcase, not this old leather schoolbag that made her look young and immature.

“How’s your head?”

“Better,” she said, forcing a bright smile.

He scanned her face. “Not quite,” he said.

Her smile dimmed. “Mostly,” she said, oddly defensive.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Her heart picked up speed. Did the man who never smiled find her amusing? She hoped, rather desperately, that he did.

“So… I, uh, wanted to apologize for that secretary comment I made yesterday. I didn’t mean to sound like a spoiled brat.”

Again, the twitch of his mouth as his eyes slid sideways to meet hers.

She caught her breath when their gazes locked and held, his dark-lashed green eyes melting her with each suspended moment. He looked back to the road and the spell broke.

She exhaled and tried again. “I hope you’ll still consider me for the position. I mean, I’d like to interview for it, or submit my application or whatever the process is…” She trailed off. She wasn’t usually this tongue-tied, but she found the gruff CEO more than a little intimidating. Which was half of the appeal. The other half being his brooding good looks and the power of his position.

“Three o’clock, my office.”

“Really? For an interview?”

He didn’t answer that question, as if he only had a certain allotment of words each day and he didn’t want to hit his limit answering stupid questions from her. She sat back in the seat and watched the skillful way he navigated traffic.

“Thank you for picking me up today.”
Lame, Ashley. Very lame.

He didn’t even look at her this time.

Right.
Keep your mouth shut, Ash.

When they reached the building, he pulled into his reserved spot, right by the elevators.

“Thanks again,” she said as they stepped into the elevator together.

He didn’t answer, but his eyes were on her face again, studying her. Her cheeks grew warm. His mouth twitched. “Where are you from?”

“Oh,” she said, drawing a breath to recover from the scrutiny of his gaze. “Here. Lakewood,” she said, naming the suburb of Denver where she’d grown up.

He nodded.

“Sports? Activities?”

“I took State in swimming in high school,” she offered hopefully.

This won an almost smile.

The elevator arrived on her floor. “Well, um, thanks again. I’ll see you at three. I mean, I’m looking forward to our meeting,” she said, backing out of the elevator.

Only his eyebrow moved in acknowledgment. The doors slid shut and she exhaled, smiling as she walked to her cubicle. She had landed the interview. Now she just had to figure out how to impress him. What did Mr. Stone like in an employee? She feared there was no one at Stone Technologies who knew the answer to that question.

* * *

Ben didn’t have a clue what he would do with a personal assistant. He didn’t like anyone in his business or his space. He didn’t want to hear their whispers or smell their smells. He didn’t want to have to talk to them. What had possessed him to invent a personal assistant job? Ashley Bell, obviously. For whatever reason, he wanted to keep her close at hand.

Her scent still lingered, filling his mind with images of stripping her naked. He wanted to sink his teeth into her shoulder while he plowed into her from behind, hard and fast. But she was human. Hell, even if she was a shifter, with Carlos Sandoval out to kill him, he was not mate material.

He sighed and picked up his phone, asking Karen, his secretary, to make the arrangements to add a workstation to the office next to his.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, knowing better than to ask him who or what it was for.

He leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk, and opened Ashley’s personnel file. It contained very little—her resume, application, references. Well, what had he expected, a life history?

He opened his computer and searched for her name on the Internet. It produced three references—one from her high school swimming championship and two from her college academic achievements. He searched her name on Facebook and perused her photos, which she unwisely shared with the public. The same girl from the photo she’d flashed him in his office appeared in many of them—a sister almost identical to her, except for the cut of her hair. They must be twins. Her relationship status was listed as single and very few guys appeared in the photos, which was fortunate, because he might have hunted down any man pretending to be good enough for her.

Karen called to say his top level management team had arrived for the morning meeting, so he picked up his coffee mug and headed to the conference room.

Jack, his brother’s best friend and vice president of development met him at the door with the same disapproving, pinched expression he always wore. Jack hated that Ben had taken the helm of the company and, in his opinion, was running it into the ground. The programmer had been part of the company since its initial start-up. Jack had helped design the first game software and been at Leon’s side during the lean years, helping him to grow it and get it where it was now.