He turns to me with a grin on his face, and the awful truth hits me right in the chest. I’m falling for this guy.
“I’ll show you going down,” he teases.
“Shut up.” I giggle softly. “Seriously though, I almost cost you your job, and I’m sorry about that.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t, and what I did on Friday was a dick move, so... I’m sorry too.” He coughs and turns away to start masking the edges, like admitting that wasn’t easy. “The important thing is, we’re still here. I think that deserves some sort of fucking celebration. What do you say we hit the bar when we’re done and grab a drink together?”
“Sure, I’d love—” Shit, I’ve got my ‘date’ with Michael tonight. “I would really like to, but not tonight. I’ve got something else going on.”
He cocks his head, arching a brow like he doesn’t quite believe me. Then he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Okay.”
My mouth drops open as he starts to strip. “What the hell are you doing?” The last time stripping happened in his office, not much work got done. “We don’t have time to fool around!”
Declan’s blue eyes darken, and his grin gets predatory. “Naughty girl. You want to fool around? I just didn’t want to risk spilling paint on my clothes. They’re new. But if you’re offering...” He drops a dry roller on his desk before he tugs his shirt off. His undershirt follows, revealing his bright ink, one design at a time, as he peels it off. He flashes a cocky smirk as he tosses the white fabric aside. Then he flexes, making his tattoos dance. “Like what you see, babe?”
God, yes, I do, but I can’t tell him that or there wouldn’t be room for the two of us and his ego. We’re just getting back to something resembling okay, and I don’t want to screw it up. Besides, with Michael’s blackmail hovering over me, I’ve got bigger things to worry about. So instead of admiring him, I turn away. “Let’s just get the painting done, alright?”
“Oh, come on. Are you going to play shy with me? Babe, I’ve seen your ass from more angles than a protractor.”
I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “Nerd.”
“Hey, I’m not just a pretty face.” A sound draws my glance. He’s unbuttoning his pants. Oh this is going to be difficult. I can’t help but peek while he lets his pants drop, revealing the toned length of his muscular legs. “The rest of me is pretty too.” He looks up quickly, catching me watching and grins. “See? There you are.”
I shake my head. “Nope! I’m just here to paint. I told you, I’ve got somewhere to be afterwards.” I dip my roller in the tray and pointedly start applying it on the opposite side of the room from him.
He doesn’t take the hint, appearing next to me with nothing but a paint roller and his briefs. I try to remain unaffected by the fact that he’s nearly naked, but it’s hard when he’s so close. “So what, are you going on a date? Are you messing around on me, Claire?” His voice is light, but I get the feeling my answer is important to him.
“None of your business.” I move down the wall away from him, starting a new patch of deep red.
Of course he follows. “What if I wanted it to be?”
My heart jumps. “Are you asking me out?” Please say no. Please say yes.
“No, of course not.” He laughs, and I’m relieved, mostly. “I’m speaking purely hypothetically.” For a while he paints quietly next to me, then he stops. “You know, I bet I’m—hypothetically—a lot more fun. I bet the other guy wouldn’t stand next to you painting in just his underwear, looking fucking fantastic.”
I sigh. Mostly because he’s right. There’s nothing hypothetical about Declan being better and more fun than Michael. They aren’t even in the same league. Besides, he’s taller than me, and every time I paint downwards, it’s impossible to not sneak a peek at his bulge. Which does actually look fucking fantastic. “None of your business.”
He mimics my voice. “None of your business. You can do better than that. Where’re your biting replies, huh? Your witty repartee? We’re going to be here for several hours. Might as well make the most of it.”
“I just want to get this done, Declan. I think between the weekend and today, my brain is going to be pickled from the fumes.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose. It’s almost too bad we have to re-paint. For what it’s worth, if I wasn’t on the receiving end of all this? I would have laughed my ass off. You’ve set the new bar.”