“What? With the e-mails? I was just having fun, Luke. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Her attention shifted, rather pointedly, down to his groin. “And speaking of knickers… Gray again today?”
Irritation, annoyance, and desire gathered inside him. The same emotions he’d had the night of the wedding. An uneasy, unstable mix.
A combustible mix…
He shifted against the desk, uncomfortable. No, he had to keep this professional. There were rules, after all, rules he had to follow because without rules there was no order. Order meant normality and that’s what he wanted. What he’d always wanted.
Dammit. Perhaps he should have gotten HR to deal with this after all.
Ignoring her dig about his underwear, he gave her a steady stare. “Your behavior, Marisa, is questionable. As is your judgment. Care to explain yourself?”
Her eyes widened. “What is this, the principal’s office? Will you get out your strap and spank me if I say no?”
Tempting. Very tempting…
Luke gave the primitive male side of his brain a mental kicking. “You think this is a joke? It’s not. If I’d let HR handle this you could be looking at a dismissal.”
“Wow, how amazingly generous of you. So why didn’t you let HR handle it?”
“Because we have a personal connection through Christie and Joseph. And I don’t want this matter to adversely affect my friendship with them.”
She released her knees, leaned back in the chair, and put her hands on the arms. Recrossed her legs. The movement pulled the fabric of her clothing tighter to her body and he found he couldn’t stop staring at her.
She was exquisite. All delicious curves and smoldering sensuality. There was nothing quiet or understated about her. Nothing contained or restrained…
Why did he find that so unbelievably attractive? What the hell was wrong with him? She was his employee and he could not cross that line. He could not break that rule. And yet, he’d hadn’t experienced chemistry like this before. Hadn’t ever let himself experience it. But this woman seemed to be burning through all his defenses. God, all the things she made him want to do…
No. No. He did not want to do any of them.
Luke’s jaw tightened. He pulled at the cuffs of his shirt as Marisa eyed him.
“I’m not sure either of them would care but hey, I suppose I shouldn’t complain,” she said. “I still don’t see the need to get heavy over a few e-mails, though. It wasn’t like I was selling corporate secrets or anything.” Her mouth turned up. “Unless the color of my knickers is a corporate secret.”
And of course as soon as she said the words, his gaze reflexively dropped to her skirt as if he could see underneath it.
Soft white thighs. Red thong. Or maybe it’s a black one. Black lace…
Silently Luke ground his teeth, double-checking the knot of his tie. This was crazy. He needed to say what he had to say, then get her out of here. Right the hell out.
“You were in breach of company e-mail policy,” he said curtly. “And you ignored my repeated warnings to stop.”
She waved an airy hand. “I mean, really. I sent you a few naughty e-mails. It’s not like I killed anyone.”
He scowled at her, not liking her attitude one bit. “There are rules, Marisa. I take them very seriously and you’ve already broken two of them once. This is an issue of professionalism. Regardless of how we know each other outside work, I’m your boss and—”
“We don’t know each other outside work. Your best friend married my best friend. That’s the extent of our relationship.”
“Stop sending me e-mails.”
She gave him a sultry glance. “Oooh, you’re hot when you’re all growly.”
Luke found his fingers clutching the desk he was leaning against. Clutching hard. Mainly to stop himself from reaching for the provocative woman in front of him. But whether to strangle her or stroke her, he couldn’t tell.
Marisa smiled. As though she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Exactly. “You seem…bothered. Am I getting to you?”
Oh yes, she was. She burrowed under his skin like a burr. With her wide blue eyes and her golden hair. The blouse pulled too tight across the roundness of her breasts. Her slender legs and little feet. The blue bead on her necklace. The bead he wanted to touch. To center. Brush his fingers against the smooth golden skin of her throat…
Her throat moved, a convulsive swallow, and he glanced up at her face, a predator’s instinct rising inside him. Her eyes were wide. The flush on her cheekbones deepening.
And there it was, that electricity sparking between them, scorching.