The Rules Read Online Free PDF

going. I still have a lot to do at work this afternoon.” I leaned into his house far enough to deposit the rest of the assortment of bags, careful to set the ones containing seventy-five dollar bottles of wine gently on the hardwood floor.
    “Amelia,” he called from deeper inside. “Follow me.”
    I righted myself and peered into the house at nothing but his large foyer. Mr. Alexander had disappeared. The last thing I wanted to do was enter his home. Now or ever.
    But he’d practically commanded it. And now he was nowhere to argue with. If I simply shut the front door and left, I would probably piss him off.
    Not that I could possibly piss him off more than he had me.
    I waited, hoping he would return when I didn’t heed his demand to follow .
    Burned into my brain was a new image now, one I could have done without. Cade Alexander owned more than suits and ties. The man had opened the door in low-hanging faded jeans that hugged his hips perfectly. Designer jeans, but still. And the T-shirt he had on was also made for his body. It pulled tight across his pecs in a way that made my mouth water in spite of my anger. Damn him. And the worst part—his feet were bare.
    No. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was his fucking awesome ass I’d had the privilege of watching as he left me in the doorway.
    Now I did moan. Still he didn’t return. He also didn’t yell for me to heel like a puppy again. Something about the way he’d invited me in hadn’t sounded at all like an invitation. It had sounded like a demand.
    I suspected he was used to getting his way. Naturally, otherwise why would I have spent the morning and half the afternoon running all over town buying things for his lazy ass because he was too uppity to purchase his own shit for his own fucking girlfriend?
    Taking a deep breath, and having absolutely no alternative option, I reluctantly entered Mr. Alexander’s home and shut the door. I picked up the bags I’d carefully set on the floor and proceeded across the foyer.
    When I stepped into my boss’s kitchen, my heart stopped.
    I was no gourmet cook, not even close. I hadn’t had enough time in the last six years to properly learn to cook much of anything. But I did appreciate a fine kitchen when I saw one.
    This kitchen was on a level I’d never contemplated except perhaps on reality TV shows. Everything was stainless steel or white. The granite counter was a swirl of grays and whites. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling above a center island at least eight people could comfortably sit around for a meal. The floor was gray tile that bumped up against white cabinets.
    Hell, the refrigerator was so wide, I wondered what one man needed with that much cold space.
    When Mr. Alexander opened the door to set the groceries inside, I discovered one man didn’t actually need that space at all. It was almost empty. Which answered my next question. Did my boss live here alone? Apparently so because I couldn’t think of anyone I knew who would live off as little food as he had in stock.
    If I hadn’t arrived with the fixings for tonight’s dinner, I assume any occupant would have starved or ordered pizza.
    “Sit, Amelia,” Mr. Alexander ordered, nodding at one of the many stools spaced around three sides of his island. I stared at the chairs, wondering how they would ever be spaced so perfectly again after I moved one of them. The house looked more like a display home than someplace a person lived.
    “I really should get back to the office, sir.” Please let me leave .
    I was concerned about breathing any more of his air than strictly necessary. Images burned themselves in my head faster than my brain could take the snapshots. Forget the kitchen and its accoutrements. The man currently bent over with his head inside the fridge was enough to keep me up late for more nights than I wanted to ponder.
    His ass was the finest I’d ever drooled over. I shook my head to erase the image and looked away. I was