Talking Dirty With the Boss(11)

Marisa.

P.S. I can already tell what color your underwear is. Gray.

Luke’s jaw tightened.

A thong. Well, that was an image he didn’t need.

Are you sure about that?

An annoyed sound escaped him, something hot and restless creeping over his skin.

Why was she e-mailing him? This conversation had no relevance whatsoever to anything. And why was it so damn irritating to know she was right about his underwear? How ridiculous.

He needed to delete the e-mail. Ignore her.

But he couldn’t. Like he couldn’t ignore things that weren’t centered or weren’t in order. If they were out of alignment he’d have to move them, change them around until he was satisfied. A controlled environment meant control over his OCD and he had to stay in control over his OCD otherwise it would start to become noticeable.

Which meant he couldn’t ignore this e-mail, not if he wanted to be able to concentrate on his job for the rest of the afternoon. Not if he wanted to remain functional.

Tell yourself that. Tell yourself it’s got nothing to do with that kiss if that’ll make you feel better.

Luke reached up to where his tie knotted at his throat. Pulled at it.

Why was it so damn hot in here? Someone needed to open a window.

In no way relieved by the slight loosening of his tie, Luke glared at his computer.

He was stupid. She’d already had a couple of stern HR warnings and he should have come down hard on her right from the get-go. Yet he hadn’t, giving her leeway right, left, and center. Well, leeway was over. It was time to get heavy. He was the boss after all, a fact that she seemed to be ignoring.

He thought for a minute. Then sent her a reply.

You should not need to flash your underwear to get help with your computer. And if you persist in using the e-mail system for discussions such as this, there will be consequences.

There, that should get her thinking about the error of her ways.

He moved the mouse, preparing to shut down the program. But as he did so, the computer chimed, signaling a new e-mail message. From Marisa.

Goddammit.



I’ve found that men work better with a suitable incentive. Also, you stop first.

A suitable incentive? What kind of suitable incentive? God, he could think of one right—

Stop thinking of her underwear, you damn fool!

Luke growled and shot off a short, decisive response.

This is your last chance. Desist from this conversation, otherwise you’ll have to explain yourself in person. In my office.

…

Marisa stared at the screen. Explain herself? In his office? What. The. Hell? For sending the wrong e-mail to the wrong person? Okay, granted, she was pushing the boundary by keeping the conversation going and yes, probably not the best idea considering he owned the damn magazine and everyone in it.

But still. He kept treating her like a naughty schoolkid.

You’ve only got yourself to blame. He did tell you to stop and you didn’t.

Logic did nothing to ease the anger simmering inside her. He was so patronizing and made her feel so stupid. And if there was one thing she hated, it was being made to feel stupid. Yes, okay, it was wrong to keep doing this but she couldn’t seem to let it slide.

Unable to stop herself, she hit reply.

There’s no need for jealousy. Say the word and I’ll show you my underwear any time you want.

She pressed send then stared at the screen, waiting for a response.

Sure enough, twenty seconds later, an e-mail appeared in her inbox.

Tomorrow morning. 9:30 a.m. My office.

Marisa swallowed.

Serves you right, idiot.

It was too late to start regretting it now. He’d warned her, but she’d ignored him, letting herself get carried away by her anger.

And by the fact that you’re hot for him.

She pulled a face. Hot for him? As if. Uptight rule-followers like him held no interest for her. None at all. She liked laid-back and easy-to-talk-to guys. Charming guys. Guys who wanted nothing from her but mutual satisfaction. She didn’t want intensity or chemistry or whatever the hell else was going on between her and Luke. Not after Alistair.

So why are you still tweaking his tie?

Good question. Pity it wasn’t one she could answer.

Marisa drummed one red-painted nail on her desk. What was it about Luke she couldn’t leave alone? There was something about him that made her want to tease him, provoke him. Despite all the warning bells going off in her head telling her it would be a bad idea

Ah, dammit, what else was new? She’d ignored all the warnings with Alistair, too. Deliberately ignored them because she hadn’t wanted to see the truth.

She sighed and switched off her computer without replying.

Sometime it would be nice to see if she could get through a whole day without sabotaging herself.





Chapter Three