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She gaped at him.
While grinning at her reaction, his eyes rotated between the rearview mirror and her stunned expression before his smile faltered. “Gigi, I’d have to be dense not to know something’s haunting you. I might be engrossed in my work ninety-nine percent of the time, but not when it comes to you. I’m smart enough to pick up on the obvious.”
“So smart that you didn’t do a background check on me?”
He shrugged, continuing to stare at the mirror. “I usually have HR complete extensive background checks before we make an offer, but when we interviewed you, for some reason, I didn’t. I suppose that deep down, I didn’t want a reason not to hire you, and further, I truly didn’t want to invade your privacy.”
“You should have invaded.”
“And if I had, would I have hired you?”
“No.”
“Well then, that would have been a mistake.”
“Tell me if you’re singing the same tune in a couple of days.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should enlighten me then. I get the distinct feeling that we’re not going to a business conference.”
“Gee, what makes you think that?”
“Partly because you agreed to go somewhere outside the office with me.”
“It was a rhetorical question.” She shook her head, lifting her lips. “I meant it sarcastically.”
“I know.” He paused, rotating his eyes between the mirrors and her gaze. “Regardless, I’ve known that something was seriously wrong since you walked into my office this morning. The off-point urgent travel request, tense body language, and obvious flirtatious manipulation tipped me off, but also?—”
“I wasn’t just flirting because I needed something, I was?—”
He pointed at the rearview mirror. “That man’s been tailing us in your car since we left my house. That’s your red Camry if I’m not mistaken?”
“What?” Genevieve squeaked. “Oh my gosh, Roman. How did he find me so quickly?”
“Lucky for us,” Mr. King said with a fierce edge to his tone, “Roman can’t catch us in this car.” He punched on the accelerator like some sort of action movie hero, and they bolted forward from zero to whatever the heck they were going now within seconds.
“There’s no way.” She grabbed the door handle, tensing her muscles. “The key is in my pocket.”
Mr. King puffed a breath out through his nose and shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. If this guy knows anything about cars, which I’d guess he does based on his driving skills alone, then he programmed a blank key fob using a wireless transmitter. All he had to do was capture the signal from your genuine digital key and relay it back to your vehicle. That’s one of the reasons I keep my cars locked behind private gates—they’d be prime targets for thieves.”
Genevieve retained only the pertinent information in Mr. King’s geeky dissertation as the trees flew by in her peripheral vision, her eyes wide as saucers. Her breaths intensified to heightened gasps as they sped around curve after curve.
“The other reason is privacy,” he continued with unexplainable calmness, “which is the answer to your earlier question, by the way. I’m not embarrassed by my success. I just prefer to keep my personal and work life separate. I feel no need to impress coworkers—I like the challenge of my job, but beyond that, I don’t care what anyone in the office thinks of me. My friends and family are the only ones I let into my sphere outside of work, and they take me as I am, just as I would them.”
Genevieve relaxed her shoulders and released the door handle, his voice and words soothing her as they entered a straightaway.
“Rich or not,” he continued, “I don’t take to people who would care about my financial status. Anyone in my personal life who wouldn’t associate with me if I lived in a shack and couldn’t afford a car isn’t worth my time. The cars and the house are for me—I like fast cars and hanging out comfortably at home. I don’t really spend much beyond that.”
“That’s sweet.” She turned her head and smiled at him. “I like your mentality about your home. I quite agree. My mom and I live in a tiny apartment, and it feels like heaven every time I walk in the door, just as it would if we lived in a mansion. She’s just so homey that any amount of square footage would suit us.”
Mr. King nodded. “Your mom sounds like an amazing woman. She’d probably get along great with mine. My mom always tries to bring things over to my place to make it feel less formal.” He chuckled. “She thinks it looks like it’s staged to be up for sale. I’m just…tidy.”
Genevieve trickled out a laugh. “I can see that about you. What would you do if some woman moved in and made a mess of it?” His features scrunched up, and she continued prodding at him for fun. “You know…decorated all the rooms with frilly pillows, scented candles, knick-knacks, and a huge variety of plants. Maybe added some purple drapes in the bedroom and floral comforters to your tidy bed.” She winked at him.
“Depends on the woman.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out that she was just teasing him, though he probably already knew. He seemed to respond to her questions regardless, which sent her heart into a confusing frenzy. And now—blast it!—she was genuinely curious about his response.
He let out a long sigh. “But since we seem to be answering each other’s questions with full transparency today, I might as well continue the tradition.” He met her eyes, lifting the corner of his mouth into another sexy-as-hell grin. “I’d let you make a mess of it.”
