Talking Dirty With the Boss(50)

Blond brows descended. “Hey, what’s up? I was only joking.” This time there wasn’t annoyance or irritation in her face. Only concern and…something else he couldn’t identify. He didn’t much like that, either.

Turning away, he picked up the T-shirt she’d been wearing. His T-shirt. “Nothing.”

There was a brief silence behind him. Then the sound of movement and her arms coming around him, her warm body pressing against his. He wasn’t expecting it, stiffening slightly. “I know the thought of a kid is overwhelming for you, too.” Her arms tightened. “I’m sorry, Luke.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” No one had given him a hug since he’d been a kid. His parents had never been physical people and he hadn’t been able to shake the sense that somehow they blamed him for the way he was. As if he could stop his OCD behavior if he really tried.

“For joking about the baby and for being snarky in general. I’m…” There was a pause. Then she went on. “I’m nervous, I guess. I know you wanted me here because of the baby, yet the baby isn’t coming for a long while so it’s just going to be me around. And I’ll probably drive you crazy and God knows you’ll do the same to me. But…” She stopped again.

He put his hands over hers where they rested on his stomach, the warmth of her at his back. “But what?”

“I guess I’m feeling a bit like a naughty kid caught messing up her parents’ house.”

Her honesty surprised him as it had downstairs. And yet he liked it. Liked it a lot. Slowly he turned around, keeping her arms around him because he liked that, too. Very much.

“I know this is going to be hard,” he replied, staring down into her face. Wanting to tell her more, tell her exactly why it was going to be so hard. But he couldn’t. He still remembered the look on Heather’s face—the first girl he’d ever really connected with—as he’d checked over his car the night of their first date. She’d laughed at him at first. Then she’d gotten impatient. Then annoyed. Then—worst of all—she’d been afraid. Of him and his craziness. He didn’t want to see that look on Marisa’s face. Ever. “I’ve never lived with anyone before and…we’re very different people.”

She frowned, studying him. “This is kind of a big thing for you, isn’t it?”

“Having you here? Yes. I suppose it is.”

Another pause.

“We should probably set some ground rules in that case. So we both don’t end up killing each other.”

A tension he hadn’t realized was there eased. She was smart, this woman. And while she was annoyingly stubborn about some things, she was also willing to concede on others. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “I should have thought of that first.”

Her mouth curved. “You should have. Instead you let the dumb blonde get there instead.”

Dumb blonde? He caught her chin in his hand. “You’re not dumb, Marisa.”

She rolled her eyes but a strip of color stained her cheekbones. “Uh-huh.”

“Is this about what I said to you in the supply room? When I told you that you were pretty and blond and not my type?”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“Like I said, I remember everything.” He stroked her chin with his thumb. “And for what it’s worth I was wrong. It seems you’re very much my type.”

The blush deepened. “So, if I’m your type, I guess that means we’ll be doing something about…uh…this?” Her hand rested lightly on his abdomen before sliding farther down, fingers curling around his steadily hardening erection.

God, it had only been fifteen minutes since they’d last indulged themselves. He couldn’t be wanting her again, could he? Then her fingers tightened more, and oh yeah, he could.

“We could,” he said thickly. “What did you have in mind?”

“A few things. After all, it’s not Monday yet, right?”

Pleasure slid up his spine, stealing all coherent thought. “No. It’s not Monday till tomorrow.”

“Excellent. That means we have plenty of time, then.”

“Stop talking, Marisa. There are much better things you could be doing with that mouth of yours.”

She laughed softly. “Whatever you say, boss.”

…

“So how’s it going?”

Marisa, neck-deep in some meeting notes she had to type up, jumped as Christie plonked herself down on the edge of the desk. “I’m not enjoying this role reversal,” Marisa informed her sourly. “Just so you know.”