The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 18

“I’ve more than enough testosterone to deal with, having you glued to my hip on a daily basis, Carrero. And no. I don’t ever see you taking that hat off and being happy with only one woman to keep your interest.” I’m trying to keep my focus on my food as my cheeks warm up, I’m not comfortable with this ever-probing fascination with my lack of boyfriend. It makes me squirm in my seat.

“Emma?” he looks at me pointedly, that hint of serious coming through the boyish charm.

“Even women have needs.”

Do they?

I think sourly. I’m pretty sure I’ve never needed to go there. I tried it when I was young; non-serious boyfriends and the pressure of other kids doing it. I didn’t like it much and it only left a nasty taste in my mouth.

“You would know, of course, being one hundred percent hot-blooded male.” I laugh at him, raising a brow at the man who is as far from feminine as any guy can get.

“I go to bed with enough women to know it’s not only men who crave sex. There’s no way you can tell me you don’t get the raging horn, at all?” He’s a little too focused on me now and looking all too invested in this.

“Jake, can we talk about something else? I don’t think I want to talk about sex with my boss over lunch.” An anxious knot has moved up into my stomach at the topic of conversation making me uncomfortable, like I always am when any conversation is turned on me and my life. Something he often does. He has no sense of boundaries.

“Do you need me to set you up? Are you secretly man shy? Or maybe I should show you what a real man feels like.” He winks at me and I just roll my eyes, suppressing a smile at his humor.

“Like I would ever trust your choice of men … Or you! … The Daniel Hunters of this world don’t do a thing for me.” I smile sweetly.

That’s an understatement.

“So, what is your type of man?” he asks curiously, focusing on me instead of his food now. I throw him a dark look, indicating that I really mean we are done with this topic.

My type? Far, far, away from me.

“Okay, okay … Are you going home to visit your mom anytime soon?” he pushes in a new direction instead, but I just drop my fork, mood dying, and temper punching me in the stomach.

For god’s sake.

“This again?” I snap and shake my head at him, irritated, being too sharp with him in reaction.

“Don’t roll your eyes and wave your hands at me!” He shoves my foot with his under the table, and I kick him back, a light satisfied smirk crossing my mouth as he grimaces with a glare. Relieving me of my temper a little.

“Why do you always bring her up?” I accuse. Pissed that he does this – a lot.

“Because I find it weird that you never go home to see her, Emma … She’s your mother, and Chicago is two hours on a plane. It’s hardly on the other side of the world. You know you can use the jet whenever you need it.” He’s frowning at me, all green eyes and stiff, squared jaw, looking wounded at my anger over this. Reverting to child.

“I don’t need to run home and see ‘Mommy’, Jake. I’m a big girl with my own life.” I scold. I hate that he always presses me about this at every opportunity.

“I go see my ‘Mommy’ every couple of weeks … She gave birth to me and raised me. I can’t imagine going five years without one trip home … it’s odd.” He narrows his brows at me, and that green gaze just penetrates mine.

“It’s not like she hasn’t come here to New York. I don’t need to go home.” My food isn’t satisfying me like it normally does, and I realize the conversation is souring the taste. I put down my napkin too now I’ve lost my appetite.

“You grew up there … Don’t you miss it?” he’s still eating and trying to come across as non-intrusive, but I’m not fooled. Jake is one of the most intrusive people I’ve ever known; he has a severe craving to pry into my life every day and he is as subtle as a bull.