She hated that he made her so nervous. Hated admitting that weakness to herself. She’d spent her entire life being weak, though she disguised it by being abrasive and even bitchy. She wasn’t proud of those things, but it was far preferable to ever showing vulnerability to another person.

“Relax, Kylie,” Jensen said, drawing her gaze to his.

She saw warmth in his eyes and pondered that oddity. It wasn’t that Jensen was some heartless, cold bastard. But he’d perfected the look. Anyone would think twice about crossing him. Usually his eyes were impenetrable, showing nothing of whatever emotion he was feeling, if he even had them.

But now? There was an odd tenderness in his eyes and it seemed to be directed at her. It was one beat off of sympathy and that got her back up because the very last thing she wanted from this man was pity.

“Did you just scowl at me?” he asked, his lips twisting in amusement.

“No. Yes. Maybe,” she muttered.

“Relax,” he said again, his tone growing as gentle as his eyes had been just moments ago. “I’m not going to bite you. Unless you ask me to. Nicely,” he added with a grin.

Her scowl deepened before she realized he was merely yanking her chain. Something he did with more frequency ever since coming to work with Dash.

“Maybe I’ll do the biting,” she said with a sardonic smile, not even realizing the sexual connotation until it was too late. She’d envisioned snapping at him like a ferocious dog. Not biting him . . . sexually.

But it was obvious that was the way he took it because his eyes suddenly smoldered with a fire that made her shiver again. Yes, this man was dangerous. Far too dangerous for her to bait. It was better to ignore him. And only speak about work. The reason they were here in this damn restaurant to begin with.

Thankfully he didn’t respond to her ill-thought-out remark. But that look . . . It was still there in his eyes, his gaze positively glowing, almost as if he were imagining her biting him and taking much pleasure in the act.

Gah, she had to stop this train of thought and push the conversation to the topic at hand.

“So you’ve read my analysis,” she said in a crisp, businesslike tone. “What do you think?”

He paused a moment and then evidently decided to let her have her way. Again, something she was certain was rare for him. He appeared to her to be a control freak. Was she surrounded by them? Tate, her best friend’s husband, she knew to be in absolute control. Chessy had relinquished it willingly in their relationship. But Dash . . . She still shook her head over that one. Only recently had it come to light—at least to her—that he was every bit as dominant as Tate, and more shocking was that it was what Joss had wanted.

Her head-in-the-sand approach to life likely made her unaware of a lot, and she was happy that way. Wasn’t she?

So much was changing around her, in her very small circle of friends. Dash and Joss married. Happy. Jensen coming on board, replacing Carson. And only Kylie was the same. Predictable, dull, scared-of-her-shadow Kylie.

She grimaced her disgust and Jensen’s eyebrows rose.

“You think I hated it?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. Was thinking of something else.”

“Care to share? It must not have been very pleasant.”

“Just reflecting on what a coward I am and how I live my life with my head in the sand.”

Her frank admission shocked her. She couldn’t believe she’d just blurted it out. She never did things like that. It appalled her that she’d just broadcast her weaknesses to a complete stranger. No, maybe he wasn’t a complete stranger, but he certainly wasn’t someone she’d ever seen herself confiding in. And she couldn’t even blame it on alcohol since they weren’t drinking wine.

“You’re too hard on yourself, Kylie,” he said gently.

She shook her head, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Please. Let’s just forget I said that. I can’t believe I did. We’re supposed to be talking business. What did you think of my analysis?”

He sent her one of those searching looks, one that told her he could see beyond her prickly exterior to the heart of her. The timid, freaked-out heart of her. And that was never a person she wanted anyone to see. Ever again. Only Carson had ever seen her that way. He and their father.

She had to call back the shudder that even thinking of that monster evoked. It took everything she had to sit there, looking at Jensen expectantly, calm and collected, when her insides were a seething, writhing mess.

“It was very thorough,” he said. “And dead-on. I admit, especially when you said you didn’t have the heart for this sort of thing, that I thought you wouldn’t be objective and wouldn’t go right to the heart of the matter when it came to cutting positions.”

Her cheeks warmed under the praise. Her hands trembled and she dropped them into her lap so he wouldn’t see the effect he had on her. As though she needed or wanted his approval.

She shrugged instead, giving him the impression his words had no effect whatsoever.

“I looked at areas where they could reduce costs, and honestly, there was a lot there that is completely unnecessary. They could reduce employee perks, the things that don’t really matter, and not have to reduce benefits, the things that are necessary.”

He nodded his agreement. “I too saw a lot of unnecessary expenditures, and by focusing on those areas, it will eliminate the need to cut some of the positions, though there are those that could easily be absorbed into other jobs.”

She stared thoughtfully at him a moment. “You don’t like cutting jobs. I mean, they aren’t just nameless, faceless people to you, are they?”

She wasn’t at all certain what had given her that flash of insight into his character. It was something in his tone though, and the brief glimmer, almost a grimace, that had registered in his eyes. Perhaps he was more human than she gave him credit for.

“Of course I don’t,” he murmured. “I’m not an unfeeling asshole, Kylie. Those people have families to support. Children to feed and put through college. They need their jobs, however unnecessary they may be to the company’s survival.”

She winced at the guilty stab that tightened her chest. She’d as much accused him of being just that directly to his face. He made her antagonistic and at first she hadn’t known why. Their first meeting had left her off-balance and it wasn’t until later that she’d understood her reaction to him more clearly.

He scared her. Not on a physical level. But on a feminine one. Scared her as a woman. He frightened her. Riled her self-preservation instincts. Ones she was well acquainted with. And she hated that feeling, had sworn no one—no man—would ever make her feel vulnerable and afraid again.

“If I implied you were heartless, I apologize,” she said quietly, hoping he could hear and see her sincerity.

She’d lifted her hands from her lap and rested them on the table and Jensen reached for one, surprising her with the speed of his capturing it before she could withdraw. Almost as if he’d anticipated such a reaction.

“I didn’t think you implied anything. No offense was given or taken.”

She went utterly still as his hand continued to cover hers. He didn’t tighten his fingers around her hand. She couldn’t really even consider it holding hands, but his hand blanketed hers, warm, heavy. Thankfully, her wrist was not facing up or surely he would be able to feel how rapidly her pulse beat.

Desperate to keep the topic to business, she casually pulled her hand away, reaching for her glass of water as if she only wanted a drink and wasn’t breaking free from his grasp. The quick flash of amusement in his expression told her he hadn’t been fooled for a moment. Did nothing escape this man’s attention?

As if conceding to her thoughts, or perhaps because her desperation showed, he leaned back and resumed their conversation.

He studied her intently, his gaze more professional than before. This dynamic was one she was more comfortable with. Boss and employee. Not a man and a woman sharing an intimate dinner. A date for God’s sake. She hoped to hell this didn’t qualify.

“I’ve incorporated many of your ideas into my final proposal, as they align with my own. I’ll have the completed analysis for you to look over on the drive to the meeting tomorrow.”

She’d nearly forgotten that they’d already ordered and this was in fact a dinner when the waiter arrived with their entrées. Silence descended as their plates were set, glasses filled with wine, the bottle left on the table at Jensen’s request. Then the waiter silently departed, leaving the two in seclusion once more.

She stared down at the filet and lobster she’d ordered. They looked succulent. Perfectly cooked and yet she was so unnerved by . . . Jensen. It was him. She’d certainly had dealings with other men. It wasn’t as if she’d avoided any and all contact with them in her adulthood. But none of them had ever made her feel as starkly vulnerable as Jensen did. And he was absolutely the kind of ruthless man who’d exploit any weakness, take advantage and swoop in like an avenging god.

She mentally rolled her eyes. God, Kylie. Dramatic much? You’re a flaming moron. You flatter yourself to even imagine he has any interest in you whatsoever. He just likes pissing you off and you’re an easy target. Eat your damn food and quit pretending this is a date and not the business matter it is before you really freak yourself out.

After chiding herself, something she seemed to do with more frequency since meeting Jensen, she dove into the delicious-smelling food. The flavor burst over her taste buds and she hummed her pleasure before she could call back the sound.

“Good?” Jensen asked.

She glanced up to see his gaze fastened solidly on her mouth. Following the up and down motion of her jaw as she chewed. His eyes glittered predatorily and for a moment she couldn’t swallow.

Finally forcing down the food, chasing it with wine she couldn’t even taste, she nodded.

“It’s wonderful,” she said in a husky voice she didn’t recognize.

God, she was acting like they were out on a date. Making cute and feeling awkward over the sudden absence of conversation.

“I’m glad it meets with your approval,” he said. “It’s one of my favorite places to eat.”

She actually did roll her eyes then. “That somehow doesn’t surprise me.”

He arched one dark eyebrow in question. “Why would you say that?”

She shrugged. “It suits you. Very . . . masculine. Your kind of crowd.”

He pinned her with an imperious look. “And what crowd is that?”

“Powerful,” she said after giving a moment’s contemplation. “Wealthy. When I first walked in I thought, ‘This is a place that caters to rich old farts.’”

He laughed, startling her with the rich, vibrant sound that rumbled from his throat. She would have never imagined laughter to be beautiful. Laughter was alien to her anyway. But coming from a man who rarely smiled, it sounded almost magical. She wanted to hear it again. Savor the sound for the brief pleasure it gave her.

“You think me a rich old fart?”

She grinned then, teeth flashing, and she hoped she didn’t have any food in those teeth. How embarrassing would that be?

“Definitely not old.”

“So a rich fart then. I feel so much better,” he said dryly.

“You have to admit, everything about this place caters to wealth and power.” She gestured to the walls. “How many restaurants do you know of that hang portraits on their walls of older men who look like judges or politicians or bankers or some other guy who founded some corporation and has loads of money?”

His lips twitched and he took another sip of his wine, licking his upper lip to remove the excess moisture. Her breath hitched and she yanked her gaze away from his mouth.

“I know nothing about the whims of the proprietor, or whom he wants to cater to. All I know is that they serve a damn fine steak and their service is impeccable. I’m easy that way, though.”

“You like your creature comforts. Fine food and being waited on hand and foot.”

She didn’t intend it to be an insult, and she hoped he didn’t take it as such. It was merely an observation spoken aloud, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. She didn’t want to encourage anything more than a strictly professional relationship with him. She had friends—good friends—and she wasn’t looking to broaden that small, intimate group. But she might have no choice since Jensen would surely be included in more of her friends’ get-togethers.