Talking Dirty With the Boss(41)

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she leaned forward, holding out the bit of croissant. “Go on. Eat it. I dare you to.”

“What are we, children? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But she said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow. And just like that something kicked in, a part of himself he kept tightly in check, locked away. The part that liked speed, that liked the thrill, that liked adventure. The part that had nothing whatsoever to do with his OCD.

And he found himself reaching out and grabbing her wrist, bringing her hand close so he could take the pastry in his mouth. It was crisp and crunchy and sweet with honey.

Her eyes widened and that bad-boy part of himself loved that he’d surprised her. So he went further, indulging himself in the impulse he’d had earlier, licking one of her fingers. She went still and he heard her breath catch. He took the finger into his mouth, sucking gently, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin underneath the honey.

“Luke,” she murmured, the sound sharply bitten off as he nipped the end of her finger lightly with his teeth. Her eyes had gone dark, her lovely face flushed. She was staring at his mouth and for a second there was nothing between them: no OCD, no baby, no questions about the future. Only desire and desperation.

“Stop.” Her voice was thick and breathy. “We can’t do this, okay? I can’t do this. Not again.”

And she pulled her hand away from his.

Of course she was right. But that was no help to the hunger raging through his veins. Or to the sense that somehow he’d slipped again. Jesus, this woman was a bucket of salt on a snowdrift when it came to his control. She melted right through it.

“Now you know why I use a knife and fork,” he said curtly.

She was staring down at her plate. “And now you know why I can’t move in with you. You and me alone? It’s disaster.”

“I can manage it.”

“Yeah, and we both keep saying that, and yet look what happens.”

“Nothing happened, Marisa. We pulled back.”

“And what about next time?”

“There won’t be a next time. Stop pushing me and we’ll be fine.”

She let out a breath. “I haven’t made any decisions yet, Luke.”

“Well, you have to.” Otherwise the alternative would be him being here, every morning and every night because he wouldn’t be able to deal with the rest of his routines until he’d made sure she was okay. And if that happened then he didn’t know how he was going to explain it to her in a way that wouldn’t look like he was completely mad.

Marisa leaned back in her seat, raised a hand to her mouth, and nibbled on a fingernail. “So…say I did move in. What’s in it for me?”

He didn’t blink at the question. If this was like business—and it sort of was—then that was a logical thing for the other party to ask. “You’ll get your own suite of rooms. I have a housekeeper who keeps everything clean and to my liking. She also cooks on occasion. And like I said, you can have this rent-free.”

“Yeah, about that. Rent-free is nice of you, McNamara, but it’s too much like freeloading for me.”

“I haven’t finished.” He’d formulated another plan this morning. One that should appeal to her need for independence. And rightly so. Everyone should have financial independence and security that was all theirs. “The living expenses you pay now, you’ll continue to pay, but they’ll go into an account that I’ll manage for you. I do a lot of what they call high-risk trading, which means I can probably triple your money in a short space of time. So that by the time the baby is born, you should have enough to repay any existing debts plus a tidy lump sum to put toward the glass studio you wanted.”

She didn’t say anything, continuing to nibble on her fingernail, blue eyes watchful. “I’m keeping my job, then. Otherwise I won’t have any money to pay those living expenses.”

Luke shifted. If she kept her job, they’d be working together, and that was going to contravene the rules about workplace relationships. Rules he’d put into place himself. Then again, technically they weren’t in a relationship. Not a sexual one, at any rate.

“I could pay off your debts for you,” he said, still not happy about it.

But Marisa was adamant. “I pay my own way, Luke. And if you start pulling crap like paying for me, I’m not moving in.”

Stalemate. God, how he hated compromising. But there wasn’t much else he could do.

Oh, he could fire her from her job and pay her debts for her, but then she’d never move in with him. “Fine. How about this? Move in with me for a month. A trial run. We’ll keep our hands off each other, which means we’re not breaking the rules at work and you get to keep your position at Total Tech. Once a month’s over, we can see where we go from there.”