Talking Dirty With the Boss(34)
“I’m keeping it,” she said, and the words sounded true and right in her mouth.
“Yes,” Luke agreed. “You most certainly are.” And when she turned her head to look at him, she found him staring back, nothing but complete and utter agreement in his eyes.
It surprised her, especially after his initial “there will be no children” response. “You want this baby, too?”
“Of course I want it.” A flash of something ferocious crossed his face. “It’s mine.”
Unexpectedly, the tight knot of sickness and fear in her stomach loosened. Okay, so she may not like Luke McNamara, but he wasn’t a guy who would leave anyone in the lurch.
Uh, unless you happen to be his girlfriend, in which case two weeks is all you get.
Well, yes, there was that. A great reminder of why getting involved in anything more than parenthood with Luke McNamara was a really bad idea. As if she needed another reason.
“So where did you want to go?” Luke asked after a moment.
Screw buying a tub from the supermarket, this kind of decision needed a waffle cone, chocolate sauce, and at least three different flavors of ice cream. Maybe four.
“Gianni’s. It’s on the waterfront.”
Luke was frowning. “What’s Gianni’s? That doesn’t sound like a supermarket.”
“It’s not. It’s an ice cream parlor.”
His frown deepened. “Ice cream parlor?”
“Best in Auckland. Accept no substitutes.” Her hands clenched on her poor, wrung out purse. “Besides, I need emergency chocolate sauce ASAP.”
He didn’t argue with her, making no comment as she directed him down to the waterfront where Gianni’s was located. The late-night crowd often used it as a dessert stop while out clubbing or after an evening at the pub. She’d been there a lot herself, mostly late at night after more than her fair share of martinis. It was loud and tacky, not to mention slightly run-down, but the ice cream and gelato more than made up for it.
Luke’s expression was a picture of disdain as he surveyed the loud and tasteless faux-Italian decor, the jukebox playing thrash metal, the drunks in one corner loudly laughing and throwing nuts at each other, and the slightly grimy texture of the walls.
“We’re getting these to go,” he said flatly, his lip curling. “We’ll eat them back at my place.”
Oh yeah, and she could imagine his place. A temple to order. A monument to minimalism. White walls, dark floors. Perfectly placed artwork. He probably had bonsai trees that he clipped with tiny scissors. And a Zen garden with a little rake. And modern, atonal classical music playing.
But perhaps it wasn’t so much his decor she should be worried about as him. Because they’d be alone. Together.
Yeah, remember what happened last time you were alone with him?
“No,” she said, leaving no room for argument. “I want to discuss the baby here.”
“Here?” He looked aghast at the prospect.
“Yes, here.”
“I don’t think so.” He’d begun to get that stern, forbidding expression on his face. “It’s noisy and dirty, and there’s no privacy.”
Marisa raised an eyebrow. “You remember the last time we were alone together, right?
He eyed her. “Of course. I never forget anything.”
“So you’ll remember the time before that? And the time before that?”
Luke frowned, his jaw tight. “I see your point.”
“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I want my sundae.” She turned away from him and walked toward the counter. Across the room, one of the drunks wolf-whistled loudly while the rest of them “hey baby-ed” her. She tossed them a grin over her shoulder, unconcerned. It was easier and safer to humor the idiots than act all offended.
All of a sudden a hand rested in the small of her back. A proprietary, possessive hand burning through the silk of her dress. She glanced up to find Luke standing beside her, eyes narrowed at the drunks in the corner.
“You go and sit down,” he said, continuing to glare suspiciously at the men. “I’ll get yours for you.”
Marisa stared at him in surprise. “I’m perfectly capable of getting my own ice cream, thank you very much.”
“You wanted to talk here so that’s what we’ll do. But I’m getting your order.”
“I don’t believe it. Are you protecting me by any chance, McNamara?”
“They’re being disrespectful.” He was back to glaring at the guys in the corner. “I don’t like it.”
The knot inside her loosened further. Uptight Luke McNamara. Whom she didn’t like and who didn’t like her was protecting her.