Talking Dirty With the Boss(35)

“I don’t get it,” she muttered. “Why should you care? You don’t like me.”

“You’re pregnant, Marisa. With my child.” As if that explained everything. “Now go sit down and I’ll order for you.”

…

There was nothing about Gianni’s that Luke liked. Not the decor, not the clientele, and most especially not the slightly sticky red vinyl of the booths on either side of the tables.

Putting Marisa’s laden bowl of ice cream down on the table, he sat down gingerly. He didn’t have a major problem with dirt, unless it offended his sense of order. Thing was, this whole place was an offense to order. Too cluttered, too noisy, far too chaotic, and being here put him in a foul mood.

Across from him, Marisa laid the napkin daintily across her lap and picked up her spoon, digging into the sticky brown mass in her bowl. She seemed impervious to the noise, as though she’d taken that rude wolf-whistling in her stride.

Luke frowned as she leaned forward to take a taste. In her red silk dress with her golden hair piled on top of her head, she was like a princess escaped from the palace, slumming it with the plebeians. And that offended his sense of order, too. She should be in a castle hung with silks and velvets and furs, not in a grimy ice cream parlor being hassled by drunken idiots.

The intense possessiveness that had gripped him earlier twisted a little tighter. No, she should be at his place, in his quiet, clean living room, where he could take care of her, not having a discussion about their baby in this…hellhole.

Luke frowned harder as Marisa gave a sigh. “Oh God, that’s heaven.” She took another spoonful and held it out to him. “Here, have a taste.”

He stared at the spoon. Chocolate sauce was dripping off it. Was she serious? He was willing to sit here and talk about the baby, but eat the ice cream, too? That was a step too far.

“No, thank you,” he said curtly.

“Not even a little taste?”

“I’m here to talk to you about the pregnancy and what we’re doing about it, not to eat ice cream.”

She shrugged. “Oh well, your loss.” Putting the spoon in her mouth, she closed her red lips around it. Her eyes fluttered shut as she savored the taste.

There was something feline and sensual about the way she did it that caused an unwelcome tightening in his groin. Okay, so maybe it was better to be here and not alone at his place. She’d made a good call with that. God knew they didn’t need sex making this situation more complicated than it already was.

“Marisa,” he began, wanting to get the conversation back on track. “We should be discussing the baby now.”

“I know, I know.” Her eyes remained closed. “Give me a minute for the sugar to hit.”

Luke shifted irritably on the seat. There were too many things about this place that rubbed him the wrong way, and he couldn’t shut them out. It was going to be difficult to concentrate, especially if she was going to start eating that ice cream, with the same look on her face and making the same sounds as she had the moment he’d kissed her throat in the stationery supply room.

Dammit, don’t go thinking about that again, you fool.

He gritted his teeth, forced the memory away. “Marisa,” he repeated, trying for calm. “I think you and the baby should move in with me.”

Her eyes popped open in shock. “Move in with you? Are you crazy?”

“Not at all. It’s the most logical solution.” He’d gone over it in his head while he’d been doing his discreet checking routine in the car and whichever way he looked at it, having Marisa and the baby move in with him was the best answer. There was simply no other way he’d be able to cope with the kind of compulsions a child would generate.

Besides, he liked having the things that were his close to him. Within his control.

Across the table, Marisa was staring at him as though he’d just dropped in from Mars. She put her spoon down with a clatter and held up a hand in a stop gesture. “Whoa and back up there a damn minute, boy. I’ve only known about this kid for all of four hours. Three of those hours were spent in denial, the last in hysteria. You’ve known half an hour and you’re already ‘let’s move in together, baby’? Have I missed something vital here?”

Luke put his hands on the table. The Formica was sticky underneath his fingertips so he instantly lifted them again. Dammit, this place was hideous. And the salt and pepper shakers down at one end of the table were out of alignment. He gave them a small tweak to give himself a moment to go over the reasoning he’d hoped she’d buy, then he said, “You have money issues. Major ones, correct?”