I wait.

He leans forward on his desk. “You’re so blunt it’s almost insanely attractive.”

“Almost?”

He nods. “Almost.”

His eyes darken as soon as he says that, and we both stop smiling when we realize we were flirting.

His office could’ve just fallen away, and we could’ve been up on that terrace again, nothing but a guy and a girl and that’s it.

He grins sardonically. “I expected you’d say yes, Livvy.” He raises a challenging brow and looks at me with the same eyes my Hot Smoker Guy used to look at me.

And because of the guy I met on the terrace, because I want to be honest with that guy, I tell him the truth.

“I . . . thank you, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I hesitate before saying the rest, but he seems to read my mind. We were just flirting after all. Oh god. This is not good! “After what happened—”

He cuts me off. “I told your brother I’d help, and I want to come through. I told him you’d learn here, and I think the best way for you to do that is to be my assistant.”

He leans back and studies me.

Of course he doesn’t miss the fact that I still haven’t said yes.

There’s an intimacy in the room—something warm in his eyes. Something warm inside me that I’m struggling to cool down.

“I was hoping you weren’t asking me for my brother.”

“I’m not.” Calmly, he says, “When I started working at my father’s firm, my father put me through the wringer to get me where I am today. I worked twelve-hour days, doing anything I could—anything,” he emphasizes. “I couldn’t have built Carma without the experience. Someone needs to do the dirty work. I quickly learned none of my employees are willing to do it as effusively as when they know you’re willing to do it yourself.”

“I want the work,” I agree, “but I want to help people too. I don’t know that I’ll feel comfortable working so closely with you when you specialize in ripping companies apart. I joined the firm thinking I could learn here, but I wanted to remain distant from that aspect of it.”

Shadows cross his eyes, and his voice drops a decibel as he leans forward on his desk again. “Is that what you think I do? Just take a bite, chew them up and spit out the pieces, Olivia?” He seems both puzzled and slightly amused. “You clearly don’t understand what I do here. You have a lot to learn.”

“I know that,” I say softly.

“I’m not the devil, Livvy. I just choose to allow some to believe that I am.”

He gives me the smile that makes my pulse skip.

“Callan—Mr. Carmichael, you’ve got the wrong girl. Radisson in Austin didn’t even offer an internship. I’m really so green still . . .”

He eyes me with a hint of anger and shifts forward just a bit more. “I trust my own judgment better than anyone else’s. Olivia, everyone starts at the bottom. Hell, it’s better to start at the bottom. Sooner or later we all get acquainted with the ground. Starting from the ground up is what gives you a solid foundation.”

Well he’s kind of badass, and not in a bad way.

I think my nana would like him.

But she’d call him a scoundrel for sure.

He’s so young, it’s incredible to think of all the things I know I could learn from this guy. He could teach me. I could learn. At the price of what, though?

I can’t even look at him without feeling a big, warm T I N G L E! Urgh!

“I’m just not sure you’ve got the right girl,” I finally say.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says as he stands and eases his arms into his jacket.

I nod and stand too, following him outside on automatic.

“We’re off,” he tells his assistant, tapping his knuckles on her desk as we pass. “Go rest.”

We ride the elevator, and I eye him, full of regret.

If only he had been seventy-year-old Daniel Radisson. Safe Daniel Radisson who helps businesses like I want to do someday, is supposedly kind and my father’s friend instead of my brother’s. I would’ve instantly, immediately said yes from the get-go.

“I’m hungry,” he says casually. “You hungry?”

“I . . . yes.”

He smiles.

I do anything but look at that hot, sexy smile.

We head down a couple of blocks to a hot dog stand and I regret blurting out that I was hungry.

“Tell me about Radisson.”

“I wanted Radisson Investments because they don’t make the big kills, it’s a company with heart so . . . they invest in struggling companies and sort of salvage some. It’s a very prestigious firm in Austin. Not as prestigious as yours but . . . but there’s a reason he didn’t want me,” I insist.

“This Radisson. Does he know you’re interning with me?”

“Of course.”

We stop to buy hot dogs and I take a bite and savor mine, without ketchup like the Chicagoans had instructed me, then add, “I went to Radisson’s office and rubbed it in his face that I got an internship with you.” I laugh. “And it felt good!”

I see him reach out as if to touch my face, but I jerk my head nervously and he lowers his hand. “I could eat that business up without blinking and spit out their bones.” He smiles and winks at me. His gaze changes when he looks at my lips. “There’s something else that needs to be rubbed off.”

I lick the mustard off the corner of my lips, but he still reaches out with his thumb to pick up the rest. The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen a man do could possibly be Callan lifting his thumb and sucking the mustard off it. My lungs feel a little broken in my chest and I feel like grabbing a bottle of mustard and bathing in it so he licks it off me.