Whole Latte Love (The Jewells) Page 6

  “I had a friend who took Goldfinch last year and got cut,” Hal said with a superior huff. “He’s tainted now and no other bank would touch him.”

  “Goldfinch’s reputation’s with old-line businesses, but Mogul’s the go-to bank for technology.” Daniel flickered a wink at Carina. “Besides, Mogul knows how to spot talent.”

  James turned to Carina. “Wonder if they have a quota for women. Set aside a few slots.”

  “Especially pretty ones to decorate the publicity shots.” Hal grinned, fingering his Harvard tie. “Where did you say you’re from?”

  Carina pressed her lips together. Smiling was a sign of weakness and subordination, but she couldn’t ignore the question. She wished she could pull off the I’ll-have-you-for-lunch grin, but her eyes weren’t big enough to look sufficiently creepy.

  “Wharton, U Penn,” James answered before she had a chance. “Did you have a lot of offers?”

  Well, actually not. But Carina wasn’t going to give them ammunition.

  “Actually, I had a couple,” she drawled. “But I chose Mogul because the San Francisco office has the most lucrative tech projects.”

  “That’s what I thought. Where else did you interview? I might have seen you before.” Daniel lifted his chin, the better to look down his nose at her.

  “Singapore, Zurich, London.” She failed to mention they were for a nonprofit microfinance project, her backup plan.

  “Interesting.” James rubbed his chin. “You would have fit right in in Singapore.”

  Why? Because she was Chinese-American? She wanted to suggest he get back on the frickin’ Mayflower when the conference room door opened with a loud bang.

  “Oh, look.” Hal pointed his chin toward the door.

  An Asian guy stumbled in, hastily rubbing his nametag onto his lapel. His hair was disheveled and his tie was askew. The UC Berkeley backpack over his shoulder was half unzipped, and a folder slipped out while his laptop hung precariously.

  The males talking to Carina suppressed snickers.

  “I didn’t know they took students from the UC system,” James said, his face full of disdain.

  Hal put on a long-suffering look. “They probably had a last minute opening and he was the only one available. Let’s take a seat at the conference table.”

  Carina walked calmly to the table without acknowledging the newcomer. She felt sorry for him, but at the same time, she couldn’t afford to lower herself by showing interest in someone from a state university. She was, after all, Ivy league.

  James pulled a chair for her and she sat, but when she turned around, her three erstwhile companions headed for the back of the table. She watched in horror as the Berkeley guy, who looked strangely familiar, flung his backpack in the empty chair next to her.

  He wiped his palm on his department store jacket and offered his hand. “Van Ding. I remember you after the Citi interview. I thought you said Mogul turned you down.”

  “Sshhh …” Carina pushed his hand back. “I was mistaken.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I can’t wait to tell my mom. I think she knows your mom.”

  Uh oh. She’d never hear the end of this. Single Chinese man, same field of study, parents knew each other. She was surprised her mother hadn’t talked about Van when she’d called earlier.

  Carina turned toward the front of the room. “Oh, look, they’re getting ready to start.”

  A distinguished looking gray-haired man and a tall woman strode through the door, followed by an admin carrying a projector.

  Van tapped her shoulder. “Don’t look now, but I heard that woman bragging at the bistro this morning about how many interns she’ll hose.”

  “Hose?”

  “As in screw over.”

  Carina pretended to study her orientation folder, but a whiff of strong oriental perfume trailed the female executive who wore a form-fitting Armani pinstripe suit and skirt. Her plume of auburn hair glinted in the slanted sunlight streaming in through the window. She marched to the front in spiky Christian Louboutin slingbacks and slapped her bright green Hermès crocodile skin bag on the table.

  Her ring finger was obscured by a chunky square cut diamond. Raising a bright red nail extension, she glared at the assembly like a green-eyed cat contemplating a cage full of canaries.

  “I’m Rebecca Morley, the Executive Director in charge of the summer analyst internship program.”

  Carina’s cell phone jingled and buzzed. All eyes locked on her as she fumbled in her tote to find it and silence it.

  In a single movement, Rebecca pounced on the tote bag and poured the contents onto the table. Carina grabbed for her phone, but Rebecca was too quick.

  “Well, well, well.” Rebecca glared at Carina’s name tag. “Miss Chen. Let’s see what’s so important you couldn’t silence your phone.”

  A tittering of laughter rippled through the room.

  Rebecca swiped her finger over the screen and lifted her eyebrows. “A message from someone named Dylan: The spider stays and so will you. Very interesting living arrangement you have, Miss Chen.”

  Chapter 6

  Dylan barely made it for the start of his shift at The Brewed Force. Fortunately, foot traffic was light during the summer, but they always had a good mix of international tourists and graduate student regulars who stayed behind to do research.

  He pulled on his apron and a hairnet and greeted his boss. Joanne was the last of the graying hippies, having spent her youth as a Deadhead following Jerry Garcia and the band throughout the country in her psychedelic painted VW Van. Surprisingly she became a UNIX kernel hacker in the 1990s and cashed out during the Internet boom in time to open the coffee shop.

  “Rough weekend?” Joanne flipped the switch to the ‘Open’ sign. “Did Rebecca find you?”

  Dylan groaned. “She tracked me down at Nico’s garage. Can’t believe she’s stalking me.”

  “She’s up to something,” Joanne said. “I couldn’t help noticing the rock on her finger. What are you going to do about it?”

  Dylan sprayed the counter top and wiped it down. “Stay away.”

  The string of brass cowbells hanging on the door jangled as the first customers arrived. Joanne took their orders while Dylan tamped the freshly ground espresso into the filter, pushing firmly.

  Of all the women in the world, why would his father marry Rebecca?

  Wait. Why had he, Dylan, cared about Rebecca?

  Six years older than him, Rebecca was a former foster child with no family. Dylan’s mother had taken her under her wing, inviting her to their home where they’d sing and play folk songs. After their late night jamming sessions, Rebecca would sneak into Dylan’s room and fuck the pants off of him. He’d been stupid and thought he was her boyfriend, until the night he found her in bed with another man, a hedge fund manager. When he confronted her, she’d simply said, It’s business, get used to it.

  Instead of getting used to it, he’d walked away from both Rebecca and his investment analyst job and settled in Berkeley.

  Dylan pressed the button to brew the throw-away cup.

  “Hey you.” His sister Kayla arranged herself onto a barstool.

  Dylan leaned over the counter and gave her a kiss. “What brings you to the jungles of Berkeley?”

  “Coffee first, big brother.” She crossed her arms and yawned, pulling back her long blond hair into a ponytail. A tiny crystal glinted on a chain around her neck and her bracelets jangled as she flicked her electronic tablet.

  His sister had chosen to live with their father during their parents’ separation. She’d always been a daddy’s girl. That, plus less supervision had clinched the deal.

  Dylan extracted the second cup of espresso and poured the spun milk back and forth, creating a leaf design. He set the cup in front of Kayla.

  She blew on the foamy milk and took a sip, inhaling her pleasure. “My brother makes the best cappuccino in the world.”

  “Okay, what do you want?” Dylan
arranged himself on a stool next to her.

  Kayla blinked brightly, her blue eyes almost shining. “Me? I’m just the bearer of bad news. Dad’s complaining about you.”

  “And this warrants a visit from his personal assistant?” Dylan crossed his arms, shrugging. “I’m still not playing at his engagement party.”

  “Dad doesn’t care who plays at his party. That’s Rebecca’s thing.” Kayla waved her hand. “I came to see if you’re okay.”

  “Couldn’t be better.”

  “You’re over Rebecca?” Kayla licked the rim of the coffee cup, slurping on the milk foam. Dylan almost rolled his eyes. Why did women make out with their cappuccino?

  “She’s no concern of mine.” He rubbed the counter down, concentrating on a water ring.

  “You never said what happened between you two.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.” Dylan hated to be rude to his sister, but he wasn’t going to let her know how Rebecca’s betrayal affected him—killed his youthful notions of true love and believing there’d be a special woman reserved for him. Thank God he hadn’t gotten her a ring. Too bad, Dad had.

  “Actually, I heard from Sheila you got a new roommate, another female banker.” Kayla’s right eyebrow lifted. “What’s she like?”

  “Carina? She wants to move out.”

  “So soon? What did you do?” Kayla scanned the baked goods. “I’ll have a chocolate cream cheese muffin.”

  Dylan grabbed a square of wax paper and fetched her the muffin. “She probably found a place closer to work.”

  Right. He should have given Bella back to her owner long ago. Same with the lizard and all their grub. But he wasn’t sure Rebecca had the time to take care of them properly.

  All wasn’t lost though. He could still charm Carina into staying. If he knew women, and he did, she was attracted to him, but furiously denying it. He’d give her the proper encouragement. Business reasons only. He needed her rent money.

  Kayla took a bite of the muffin, smearing chocolate across her front teeth. “You always had a thing for hard, ambitious women. Is she pretty? How long are her fingernails? How red is her lipstick?”

  “Why all the questions?” Dylan crossed his arms and resisted the image of Carina dressed to the nines, her lips red hot, curled in his arms on a moonlit deck, or even better, naked in a hot tub beneath the starry sky framed with tall pines.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt again.” Kayla pulled a couple of bills from her purse. “Dad wants you to reconsider his last offer. Why don’t you give him a call?”

  “I’ll think about it.” Dylan put her money in the cash register.

  “Be careful.” Kayla took his hand and squeezed it. “Maybe it’s a good thing she’s moving out. I can tell by your face you have a thing for her.”

  “Who?”

  “Your new roommate. Your eyes kind of did that lightning thing when I mentioned her red lipstick.” She swung her purse over her shoulder and walked to the door.

  Was he that obvious? The last thing he needed was another woman hung up on deals and prestige. Driven, motivated, with a sense of urgency—an aggressive one, quick to punish him with cutting words and disdainful rejection. Better to stick with casual sex and fluffy girls who required nothing but good coffee, organic food, and multiple orgasms.

  He pulled out his phone and stared at Carina’s message. Too bad. He thought she was different. That jingly feeling he had the moment he spotted her? Mother believed in fate, but then she ended up with Dad. Could Carina change?

  Didn’t matter. If he couldn’t convince her to stay, he’d never know if she was naughty or nice, preferably both.

  ~ ~ ~

  Carina unlocked the apartment door and opened it slowly. The living area was dark and quiet. Dylan didn’t seem to be in his room either. Good. Now she could proceed with her plan without interference. She shut the door to her bedroom and fired up her laptop.

  Half an hour later, she was still scrolling through rental listings. She heard Dylan move around the apartment, but she couldn’t talk to him until she had a few leads.

  Her stomach growled and she rubbed her temples, needing caffeine. His footsteps approached. If he went into the bathroom, she could make a dash for the refrigerator.

  “Knock, knock,” Dylan called through the door.

  Her heart rate kicked up. What did he want? Maybe he was about to evict her. Oh gosh. This would be the worst day in her life. Not only had she been a screaming idiot this morning with Dylan, but she’d also made a horrible first impression at work.

  Rebecca had mocked her in a snooty voice. A guy named Dylan? Is he parked in a trailer waiting for you?

  “Carina, you hungry?” Dylan asked. “I can put a steak on the grill for you.”

  Steak? Grill? Her stomach nodded an enthusiastic yes, but she shouldn’t mooch off him. Sadly, she’d have to pass.

  She opened the door.

  “Hey.” Dylan stood there with his thumbs in his belt loops, cocking a grin. His smoldering gaze seemed to burn holes in her business outfit.

  She couldn’t tell if he was being friendly or mocking her for this morning’s mishap. Either way, she had to escape, even if the aroma of fresh coffee tantalized her.

  “I’m busy right now.” She squeaked out a reply. “I’ve had a bad day.”

  “Nothing that can’t be fixed with a cup of joe.” He tilted his chin for her to follow him. “Come on.”

  She trailed him to the kitchen, as if drawn by the pied piper for pathetic, hypnotized women.

  Stick to the game plan, girl. She straightened her shoulders. “I have to find another place. This isn’t working out.”

  “No better coffee than here.” He poured a mugful for her. “Organic and fair trade, a mixture of Arabian and Indonesian. Try it without cream or sugar.”

  The aroma was heady, like aged wood and nuts. She received the mug with both hands and savored the top notes before taking a sip, her eyes closed.

  “What do you think?” Dylan asked, seemingly unconcerned with her decision to move out.

  “Mmm … Smooth and rich, with a hint of spice.”

  “You’re good. Very discriminating.” He guided her gently with his hand on her lower back and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “How do you like your steak?”

  “Medium. But you don’t have to. I can run downstairs and pick up something.” Even with her hasty denial, she couldn’t help the warm feelings flowing through her veins, no doubt caused by the heavenly coffee.

  “No need. I have enough food for both of us.” He took the steaks out of the marinade and opened the sliding glass door to the tiny balcony where the grill lay smoking.

  The view of his backside was too fabulous, his broad shoulders tapering to a tight behind, encased in dark wash jeans. She followed him to the balcony, fanning herself. If this were a romance novel, they’d be sipping wine and watching the sunset, maybe even kissing.

  “Why are you being so nice?” She took another sip to tamp down her inappropriate thoughts.

  “I like you.” He smiled wryly, flipping the steaks with a pair of tongs.

  Her knees turned to jelly. His eyes were more dreamy up close. Why hadn’t she noticed the golden flecks before?

  “I—I don’t know what to say.” Urgh. Tell him you like him too.

  His lips twisted and he shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not chatting you up. You’re nice to have around.”

  The giddiness in her heart deflated instantly. Dylan was way out of her league. She swallowed hard, putting on her soon-to-be ex-roommate demeanor.

  “Not worried at all. I’m not sure this is the best arrangement. Me living here.”

  He fanned the barbecue smoke away from her. “Is it about this morning?”

  “Well, yeah. There’s you and your horrid pet. She sneaks into the shower and you barge in on me.”

  The corners of his lips turned up, but he kept his eyes focused on the sizzling steaks. “Think you can slice th
e cucumbers and throw some cherry tomatoes into the salad?”

  “Sure.” Carina stepped into the kitchen and thumped the coffee mug on the table. How utterly humiliating. Relegated to nice-to-have-around status. Not only did he find her highly amusing, he was not in the least bit interested in her. She should be relieved. In fact she was quite relieved, thank you very much.

  She threw some vegetables into the salad and fled to her room to pack. It had been one giant mistake to think she could share an apartment with a guy who made the butterflies migrate from her stomach to her heart. Better to cut her losses now. She pulled out her suitcase and stared at it. It was either the hotel, or see if the people she’d interviewed before were still looking for a renter.

  “Hey, hey, the steaks are ready.” Dylan stood at her door, looking sexier than he had a right to be, considering the situation.

  “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Carina hoped he couldn’t hear her stomach growling.

  He frowned when she unzipped her suitcase. “Where are you going?”

  “Getting out of your way. I’m not the most fun roommate for you.”

  “And that’s why you want to move out?”

  The paragon of male beauty had no clue how he affected young, impressionable females. It was surprising he hadn’t been kidnapped by a tribe of Amazons and used for stud services.

  “No, actually, I screwed up at work. I can’t think, and I’m distracted.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. This was too close to the truth.

  “So you got distracted at work?” He spread his hands on the doorframe, beaming at her innocently. “And what does that have to do with you moving out?”

  “Nothing, except I forgot to turn off my cell at orientation, and you texted me right when the director in charge of interns was about to speak. She made comments and everyone laughed.”

  “And this is my fault?”

  “Oh, no. I don’t blame you. I just made a horrible first impression.”

  “Well, look at it this way, at least it was memorable.” He took two steps toward her. “Don’t you like this apartment?”

  His presence filled the room, causing a telltale tingle to rattle her girlie parts. How could she tell him the real reason? He threw her off-balance, made her wish he liked her for more than the rent money. Most of all, she wanted him to think she was special.