“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” he repeated. The hum in her throat had vibrated through Blake. The almost pleasant sensation irritated him. Particularly when he realized it was likely a form of judgment. “What does hmm mean?”

“Nothing. Just…” She twisted her lips as if considering if she should share whatever was on her mind. With a reluctant sigh, she said, “My nana used to say, ‘Never date a man who doesn’t know how to care for a pet. If he can’t love a simple animal, how could he possibly love someone as complex as you?’”

Their eyes met, and he remained captured in her gaze for several long seconds. A strange sequence of emotions overcame Blake. First, he was moved by the tenderness in Drea’s tone as she spoke of her nana. Then he felt a stab of interest, as if he wanted to stop talking about himself and listen to more about her complexity. That led to confusion, because he’d never felt anything like that before. Finally he was pissed—he didn’t like to be confused. Or moved. Or interested.

And did she basically say he wasn’t good enough for her because he’d never owned a hamster?

Screw that. It didn’t take a pet to know that he was good enough for her. He’d be the best damn thing she’d ever known if they were together. Which they weren’t. And wouldn’t be.

Why did that cause a wave of disappointment?

The latest emotion renewed his fury. No matter that the fury was with himself and not her. With gritted teeth, he said, “It’s a lucky thing then that you aren’t dating me, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s a lucky thing indeed.”

Is my disappointment mirrored in her eyes?

No, of course not. That was ridiculous.

Whatever it was he’d seen, it flickered away as quickly as it had come. In its place was resignation. “Look,” she said, “this isn’t working. You’re right that I need to get to know you. Not like this. This is not genuine. I need to spend time with you where you aren’t showing off what you have. I need to observe on my own.” She held up her hand as if he might interrupt. “You said you recognized that I had skills. I can only use them in my own way.”

“Fine. I understand. How about you spend the rest of the day working with my secretary on the new-hire paperwork? There are a few orientation videos to watch as well, about teamwork and sexual harassment, and all that.” He wasn’t sure why he mentioned the sexual harassment video. Perhaps because the thoughts that kept entering his mind every time Drea crossed her legs in that short skirt of hers did not comply with the company’s code of conduct.

Then, for the umpteenth time that morning, he went off plan. “And tomorrow, we can spend the day together. You can observe whatever you’d like.”

Her forehead crinkled in confusion. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“Yes, it is. You can take off a day next week in exchange. You need to see me in my home environment. It’s the perfect opportunity.” Or maybe he just couldn’t stand the idea of two days before seeing her again. Infuriating as she was, he sort of liked her company.

It was another reason why it was imperative he found a wife. He was lonely. Why else would he choose to spend any time with a woman such as the maddening one in front of him?

Chapter Six

“Ms. Dawson?” The pale-faced elderly woman who answered the door must have been prepped on Andy’s arrival. “Mr. Donovan is expecting you. He’s upstairs in his office.”

“And you’re…?” Andy suspected she was facing an employee of Blake’s, but something about her grandmotherly air made Andy question her assumption.

“His housekeeper, Ellen.”

So her first guess had been right. She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ellen. You can call me Andy.”

The housekeeper’s gentle features crinkled into confusion. “Oh, I thought he said it was Drea.” Andy swallowed back a curse as Ellen turned and called over her shoulder. “This way.”

Ellen led her through the foyer past a large living area toward a sweeping staircase.

“Do you mind if I just…?” Andy didn’t finish the question, afraid that permission to look around would be denied if she asked, and instead peeked into the living room before heading to the stairs. A shiver ran down her spine. It felt as cold and industrial as the office at Donovan InfoTech. She’d hoped that was only the spirit of the front entryway, but it continued to the main room. There was no sense that anyone actually lived there. It was pristine and perfect and sterile.

And this was what she had in her arsenal to attract a bride?

Forget it. The place was like a museum. Except museums at least had gift shops with cheerful volunteers. There was no cheer here, and certainly nothing she’d like to bring home. The Donovan Mausoleum, that was more accurate.

She felt Ellen come up behind her. “Does Mr. Donovan spend much time here?” Andy gazed at the expanses between couches in the massive living room. Blake definitely didn’t entertain much. People would be shouting from one distant seat to another, too afraid to sip their wine in case a stray drop of red landed on the immaculate marble tile. The mental image made her smile. She caught the housekeeper’s eye and quickly dropped the cheer.

“Most of the time he’s in his office, though occasionally I think he reads down here after I’m gone for the day. He often leaves a book perched on the side table.”

Those boring biographies of businessmen and dead presidents seemed to fit the environment. Andy had known she’d get a better picture of her boss by seeing his house but also had hoped that it would be a prettier picture.

With the sweetest of smiles, the housekeeper asked, “Are you ready to continue up?”

“Of course.” Andy frowned as she trailed behind Ellen. Each step farther into the house felt drearier and drearier. At least Ellen was a ray of sunshine. Otherwise, Andy feared the place would collapse from the weight of the drab.

They continued up the stairs. At the top, the hallway extended in both directions. One side ended in a set of closed double doors. Andy looked the other way and found another set of double doors—this time with Blake Donovan standing in front of them.

“Drea, you made it.” His tone suggested that he’d been waiting for her, as if she were late. “Thank you, Ellen. I’ll take her from here.”

Andy nodded to the housekeeper then checked her watch before starting down the hall to meet her boss. Nope. She was totally not late. Maybe early was Blake’s preferred time of arrival. When she reached him, she opened her mouth to ask, but he spoke first.

“Here we are.” He threw open the double doors and gestured for Andy to step inside.

She sucked in a breath and immediately forgot all about her plans to harass him into opening up as she took in his inner sanctum. It, like the rest of the house, was way too freaking big, but—

“Thank God.” Oops. That was out loud.

“What does that mean?” When they’d entered the room, Blake had seemed calmer, but now he was glaring again.

She placed a hand to her chest, in somewhat dramatic fashion. “Honestly? I was wondering how I was supposed to convince any woman who saw your fortress of solitude here that you were human and not some sort of business-droid. Then I was wondering if I was actually convinced of that myself. And then you showed me your office, and—thank God.”

He looked as surprised as her at the giggle that came out of his mouth at that.

He brought the back of his hand to his mouth, recovering quickly. “You like it, then?”

Like it? She loved it. Huge windows took up the far wall of the office, filling it with soft sunlight. The desk was overlarge, but it was beautiful. An antique, Andy thought, but that was as much as she could guess. There was an actual rug on the floor, and it didn’t even look expensive. It just looked warm. There was a cushy chair by the window, and a decanter of amber liquid on the table near it. A spider plant—probably the perfect plant for a man like him—hung from the ceiling.