“You said to keep myself busy.” She handed him the photograph. “Is that your twin?” she asked.
“My brother.” He glanced at the picture in his hand, and she caught a wistful expression before he hid it with his normal outward mask of indifference.
“Older or younger?” she asked, undeterred. If she was going to work with him, she needed to break through his barrier and at least get him to converse with her.
“Younger. By only ten months.”
She grinned. “Your parents worked fast.”
“That’s what happens when you spend more time arguing and making up than getting along,” he muttered.
Insight, she thought, appreciating the nugget of information.
“I thought you were here to work.” He set the picture in its spot in the back row.
Something told her the placement of the photo was telling. A story she wanted to know more about, but he wasn’t talking.
Yet. “You told me to wait for you while you dressed. You’re dressed.”
And if she thought she’d seen all facets of Kaden Barnes, from the man in the suit to the fresh-from-the-shower version, she was wrong. This man, in the gray sweat pants that hung low on his hips and faded white tee shirt that read Geek Squad across his chest—she had a hunch this was the real man beneath the façade he put out to the world.
Despite his gruff exterior, his sex appeal couldn’t be denied, and the little hint of vulnerability she’d seen when he’d looked at the picture of his brother made him seem even more human.
Sensing she’d pushed him out of his comfort zone enough for one day, she turned her focus to work. “So what’s next … Boss?”
He studied her for a few seconds, then said, “Call me Kade. And give me your phone.”
“What?”
“Your cell phone.” He held out his hand.
She dug through her purse and reluctantly handed over her iPhone.
“Unlock it.”
She glared at him.
“Please,” he added.
“That’s much better.” She took back the phone and opened it with her fingerprint before returning the device. “I can’t imagine what you want—”
He slid his finger over the screen, checking out each display of apps before moving to the next screen. Suddenly realizing what he was looking for, she braced herself for the reprimand.
“You don’t have Blink on your phone. How can you possibly work for me if you don’t have the app and know what it’s all about?”
* * *
Kade eyed his personal assistant with frustration, which was a helpful emotion, serving to tamp down on the desire that had been riding him since he’d opened his door and seen her gaze raking over him appreciatively. She’d changed her top, and though her work outfits were completely appropriate, his imagination went into overdrive thanks to the fancy buttons holding her shirt closed over her full breasts and the same skirt from earlier, which accentuated her rounded hips.
He was annoyed that he’d caught her with his photographs and pressing for information about his family. Information that dug at him like an open wound.
He hadn’t seen Jeffrey in over twenty years, their parents’ ugly divorce and subsequent division of custody making sure the adults—and boys who were as close as could be—ended up living on different continents. With one stroke of the pen, Kade had lost the mother who’d given birth to him and his best friend.
Looking back, his mother hadn’t been such a loss. She’d always favored Jeffrey, the easier child, while Kade, with his colic, undiagnosed learning disabilities, which he now knew were ADHD and anxiety, had been challenging from birth. Not to mention what he thought was mild OCD. All of which his mother had never let him forget, and which had provided a lesson he’d taken into adulthood with his relationships.
He’d had difficulties in school, problems making friends, and his mother had no patience or desire to find out why. She called him stupid and annoying, a pain, saving her affection for Jeffrey. Yet somehow, Kade hadn’t resented his younger brother. He’d looked up to him for being all the things Kade couldn’t manage to be.
And one day he was gone. Madeline Barnes had taken off, choosing to move far away and cut off contact rather than share custody. Kade hadn’t been good enough for his own mother. He was never quite good enough. His difficulties had followed him into adulthood, and he didn’t think any woman would put up with him for long. And the ones in his life hadn’t. They’d grown impatient with his quirks; some were embarrassed, causing him to pull further into himself.