Conflict of Interest - By Allyson Lindt Page 0,12
bit back a snarl at the order, and took her time strolling two rows over to her car to grab her running shoes. What had happened to the man who didn’t seem capable of taking anything seriously?
He waited by his SUV, patiently holding her door, not saying anything else until they were both inside. “We only have a couple more hours of good light. After eleven or twelve, it turns to shit.”
Maybe he was actually going to try and make this publicity thing work. The language was going to have to go. She made a mental note. “The lighting where?”
Harsh sun assaulted her when they pulled into morning traffic, and she dropped her sunglasses into place. Within a couple of minutes he had maneuvered them out of the downtown pack of cars, and they were heading in the opposite direction of the last of the straggling commuters.
“The beach.” He merged onto the interstate, heading west toward the airport. “You can play twenty questions with me along the way.”
None of this information was helping. “I’m not dressed for the beach because, even if I wasn’t expecting to be in an office today, we’re in Salt Lake. No beaches.”
His expression cracked, and he laughed. “Sorry, I can’t keep a straight face any more. This whole ‘I’m too important and busy to be polite’ thing doesn’t do it for me. How do you even pull that off? Is it like a switch—on is flirty and fun Kenzie, and off is carrying the weight of the world in her laptop bag?”
The question dug deeper than she wanted to admit, mingling with the accusations of Riley’s she still hadn’t been able to forget. At least he hadn’t called her frigid. She flopped her head back against the seat and exhaled. “It’s not a switch, but the situation is different now. Why are we going to the … beach?”
He kept his attention on the road, still grinning. “Okay, I’ll concede there are no crashing waves, and you probably don’t want the sand between your toes, but it’s a lake, and I think that means the land around it qualifies as a beach. I’m drafting out a location in a game, and I need pictures, visuals, and a hands-on experience.”
At least he hadn’t pushed the other issue. “That doesn’t sound like an executive’s job. Why don’t you have someone else do it?”
He spared her a glance, brows raised in disbelief. “For the same reason I do game testing. If I surrender my favorite parts of work just because someone sticks a nameplate and a title on my office door, what’s the point of being in charge?”
“Oh.” She didn’t have a comeback. Instead, she watched the scenery shift and change as they headed past the mountains and into another valley. They left the traffic behind, following the twisting interstate.
A large building loomed into sight as they approached their destination. She recognized Saltair—it looked like a castle from Arabian Nights. If Disney had animated it. And then left it on the back lot to collect dust. “I haven’t been out here since I was in high school. The Foo Fighters I think.”
He pulled onto the dirt shoulder outside the chain-link fence surrounding the building. Once upon a time the spot had been a tourist venue. Now it was only used for concerts, meaning the rest of the time the entire area was abandoned. No one had much interest in playing on a beach that was more sagebrush than sand, or in a lake filled with salt and brine shrimp.
He turned to her. “I was at that show. You don’t really strike me as a mosh pit kind of girl.”
Even just thinking about being jostled like that gave her a headache. “I’m not. We were in the balcony. Amazing show, though. So much energy.”
He grabbed a duffel bag from the back seat of the SUV. Oh, the things she’d imagined doing back there. Heat rushed through Kenzie, and the way his gaze raked over her made it difficult to ignore.
He turned away and pushed his door open. “You might want to leave your jacket in the car. And your shoes.”
She paused with one sleeve down her arm. Why had she worn a sleeveless shirt that morning? Sand on her dry clean only jacket, or sun on her bare arms? Why was she even debating? She took off the jacket. “Do you have some place I can hang it?”
He started to say something and then shook his head. His hands brushed