Live for Me Read Free Page B

Tiffany. And I guess I should introduce myself. Devin Gold.” He dropped his bag on the floor and held his hand out to me.
    Wiping my own hand quickly on the inside of my pocket to rid my skin of clamminess, I hastily raised it and put it into his. I expected a quick, swift, nothing of a touch, but he gripped my hand firmly and held it longer than I was comfortable with.
    “Nice to meet you,” he said, studying me intently.
    His interest wasn’t sexual. I’d seen enough of that from sweaty older foster brothers. It was just an… assessment. He was a businessman after all. He had created massive success for major music stars. He obviously knew how to read people. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.
    Most likely I didn’t want to know.
    But the scrutiny had me raising my chin slightly. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was maintain my pride with someone else in the power position. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Sir.”
    He laughed softly and let go of my hand. “Come in the family room, Tiffany, and keep me company. You can tell me why a young girl wants to housesit by herself in a pretentious mini-mansion on an obscure part of the Maine coast.”
    And maybe he could tell me why he was there and how soon he was leaving. His presence was unnerving. Okay, it was also arousing. But that was bad. Really, really bad. I could not develop a crush on my boss. He would think I was completely ridiculous if he found out, and he’d fire me. I would have nowhere to go if I lost this cushy gig.
    Slapping his hand to his thigh to call the dog, he moved into the family room. “It’s dark in here. You can override the timers, you know. Just use the switches.”
    “I like the dark,” I lied, not wanting to admit that I’d been afraid imaginary serial killers were creeping around outside checking me out.
    “I like the dark too.” He went over to the fireplace and opened the doors. “But I also like a fire. Can’t do that at my place in Manhattan.”
    Sitting down on the easy chair, I busied my hands by petting the dog, who had come right over and rested his head on my knees. “What’s the dog’s name?”
    “Amelia.”
    “So you’re a girl,” I murmured to the Lab, rubbing behind her ears.
    “I like girls,” Mr. Gold said, his back to me as he skillfully built a pyre from the woodpile recessed into the stone wall.
    The words seemed flirty, charming. But the tone didn’t. He just sounded matter-of-fact, which was way more unnerving than if he had been shamelessly flirtatious. My minimal experience with guys had been limited to boys and creepers. Plus a handful of foster fathers who had been decent men, like Cat’s dad. That was it. I didn’t know how to read Mr. Gold. And I couldn’t bring myself to think of him as Devin. That name was too familiar, too romantic, too college student. It would be too easy to forget he was my employer if I was thinking of him as Devin. He was going to have to stay Mr. Gold while he was there.
    “You’re a pretty girl,” I told Amelia as her earnest dark eyes stared up at me. It was much easier to talk to animals than it was to humans.
    Within another minute there was a fire blazing and he stood back up, stretching. I could practically smell the manliness so I crossed my legs. Tightly. It was a suck ass time for my hormones to decide to stand at attention. But there was something intriguing about him and as he moved past the coffee table he gave a nod to the open doughnut box.
    “I see someone likes those almost as much as me. Though I find it hard to believe someone as tiny as you could pack away three in one day.”
    “I don’t think you’re supposed to point out when a woman overeats,” I said, without thinking, mortified to have been busted. Hey, I like fried dough. Who didn’t?
    That drew him up short, his hand pausing as he reached out for a doughnut. “Fair enough. My apologies. One of the downsides of being rich is that no one dares to reprimand