Make Me Forget (Make Me, #1)(27)
“So Durand does it again. It combines philanthropy—no, it uses it—to optimize the bottom line.”
His smile was closemouthed, slashing . . . dangerous.
“Yes, I understand. That’s the way you would view it,” he mused as if to himself, sounding not at all concerned by her pessimism as he leaned back in his chair. His stare on her made her feel like a wreck he was considering making into a project. It was a cold, sharp knife, that stare, so Alice couldn’t figure out why it made her sweat so bad.
“Would you be adverse to accepting a position at such a seemingly mercenary organization?” he asked.
“No,” she replied without pause.
His gleaming brows arched. “Ah. So you’re a little mercenary yourself.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m not stupid, if that’s what you mean.”
He gave a gruff bark of laughter. “No one could accuse you of stupidity,” he said with a swift glance at her paperwork spread across the desk. He stood abruptly. Alice jumped up like she’d been released after being held down on springs.
“This has been enlightening,” he said briskly, holding out his hand. They shook. “We’ll be making our decision on finalists for Camp Durand within the next two weeks. Chicago-area colleges and universities were Sebastian Kehoe’s last stop on the recruitment tour. We’ll be in contact.”
“Right.”
His eyes flashed. She grimaced. She hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but recognized she had. Well, at least this fiasco was over with. Now she had all the valuable interviewing experience either she or Maggie could ever want for her. Everything after Dylan Fall would be trite. She had a future full of cakewalk interviews before she landed her new, realistic job.
Probably a boring, entry-level, menial one given the current job market.
She turned to go.
“Alice.”
She came to an abrupt halt, pausing in the action of reaching for the door. She didn’t care for the fact that she looked over her shoulder with a measure of eagerness. It was hard not to crave every glance she could get of Dylan Fall. Despite the fact that he intimidated her, he was one hell of a sight.
“I know a man—he’s a member of the Durand board, in fact—who grew up in the Austin neighborhood on the west side of Chicago,” Fall said. “Are you familiar with that neighborhood?”
She studied him narrowly, trying to see his angle and failing. “Yeah. It’s one of the worst in the city.”
“Worse than Little Paradise.”
She barely repressed a snort. Mr. Slick, Gorgeous CEO in his immaculate Italian suit had a lot of nerve, presuming to know about Little Paradise. He noticed her flash of disdain, because his brows rose in a silent, pointed query.
“There’s nothing worse than urban hillbillies, Mr. Fall,” she explained with a small, apologetic smile. “I don’t know how much you actually know about Little Paradise, but that’s a pretty apt descriptor for who lives in the trailer park there. It’s just that in our case, the ‘hill’ is a giant garbage dump.”
She’d been trying to use levity. She must have only sounded flippant, though, because he looked very sober.
“My point is, Durand doesn’t just offer philanthropy to needy kids to get publicity and prime photo ops, and then drop them off on the streets and forget about them. The man I’m speaking of rose through the ranks, starting as a Camp Durand camper when he was twelve years old. People-building isn’t an empty philosophy at Durand. We want the best, no matter where the best comes from.”
She realized belatedly she’d turned and was staring at him now full in the face. Searching. Suspicious.
Hopeful.
Against her will, her gaze flickered down over his snow-white tailored dress shirt and light blue silk tie. A vivid, shocking impression popped into her head of sliding her fingers beneath that crisp cotton and touching warm skin, her palm gliding against the ridges and hollows of bone and dense, lean muscle. Her gaze dropped to his hands.
Just the thought of his hands sliding across her skin made her lungs freeze.
I’ll bet he could play me perfectly. He just looks like he knows his way around a woman’s body. He’d do things to me I’ve never even imagined.
They were completely inappropriate thoughts, but that didn’t halt her instinctive reaction. Need rushed through her like a shock to the flesh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Her thighs tightened, as if to contain that unexpected flash fire.
Maybe it was because her few former lovers suddenly seemed young and clumsy in comparison to Dylan Fall?
Her stare leapt guiltily to his face. His dark brows slanted dangerously, but he also looked a little . . . startled? His eyes flickered downward, just like hers had. She hunched her shoulders slightly at the web work of sensation that tingled the skin of her breasts, tightening her nipples against her bra.
The whole scoring, nonverbal exchange lasted all of three ephemeral seconds.
Her hand curled into a fist when she recognized she’d let her guard drop.
“I’m happy for your friend. But I’m not a charity project,” she said.
“Neither was he.”
She flinched slightly at the stinging authority of his reply. Dylan Fall was a little scary in that moment.
“We’ll be in touch,” he repeated, looking down at the desk in a preoccupied fashion, and she knew she’d imagined not only that spark of mutual lust, but his cold, clear anger at her pitiful display of insubordination.