Talking Dirty With the Boss(51)

Her friend shrugged, unrepentant. “Now you know how irritating it is. So come on, tell me all the gossip.”

Marisa sighed, glancing toward Ben’s closed office door. She’d arrived late again this morning—Luke’s fault. Like it had been his fault all the other times she’d been late this week.

That first night they’d spent laying a few ground rules about how they were going to live together without killing each other. Marisa was allowed to sprawl out in the guest rooms that Luke had set aside for her, as long she left all other rooms the way she’d found them. It was kind of weird how anal he was about tidiness but she didn’t argue. It was his house, after all.

As they’d also agreed, the sex had to be over by Monday morning, which meant she’d gone to bed that night by herself. Only she hadn’t been able to sleep. Finally, she’d gotten up to get herself a glass of water and found a disturbed and agitated Luke wandering around the kitchen. They’d taken one look at each other and that had been that—no more sleeping alone, the rules adjusted to allow for Marisa’s presence in Luke’s pristine room.

Of course, that had meant keeping everything on the down-low when it came to work. Luke had been uncomfortable about it but he hadn’t been able to argue, what with their chemistry wreaking havoc each time they got close to each other. They had to deal with it somehow, and this was the best way.

It also meant that no one could know about the pregnancy or about her living with him, either, at least not until after the usual twelve-week mark.

Not that she was complaining. At all. She only wished she didn’t have to get up so early each day. A week on from her pregnancy diagnosis and the infamous first trimester weariness was beginning to kick in, though not, thank God, the nausea.

“I’m fine. Luke’s fine. The baby’s fine. Happy?”

“No.” Christie narrowed her gaze. “You seem tired.”

“Of course I’m tired. I’m pregnant.” And sleeping with an incredibly sexy man who can’t get enough of me.

Christie nibbled on her lip. “How’s living with Luke going?”

Marisa cast another surreptitious glance around for any suspicious eavesdroppers. “Actually, it’s going surprisingly well.”

And it was.

She loved his house, for a start. A modern, architecturally designed series of boxes set into the cliff top, with massive views over Auckland’s blue harbor and the green of the islands in the gulf beyond. As she’d suspected, Luke’s tastes ran to minimalism, which meant white walls, dark carpet, and no art on the walls. Yet what he had instead were large windows and their views, and lots of light and sun, making the whole place seem airy.

Disappointingly there were no bonsais or Zen gardens, but there were lots and lots of books. And though he didn’t have art on the walls, he had abstract sculptures in pleasing, organic forms here and there. She also liked the heated lap pool, even if he didn’t have a Jacuzzi. The lack of which was more than made up for by the massive spa bath in the rooms he’d set aside for her.

“Surprisingly well, huh?” Christie gave her a measuring look.

“Yes. Surprisingly.” If “surprisingly well” meant having a lot of sex. “Are we done here?”

“Details. You normally inundate me with details. But I’m not hearing any now. This is intriguing.”

Marisa gritted her teeth. Then said quietly, “Okay, you got me. So we’re sleeping together. A lot. On any surface that happens to be handy at the time. The dining room table, the kitchen counter, the car, the—”

“Hey, I didn’t say I wanted details, okay?” Christie said hurriedly, flapping her hands. “In fact, I’m more than happy not to hear them.”

“You did ask.”

Her friend folded her arms and scowled. “Can we leave the intricacies of your sex life till later? What I’m most intrigued about is that you have one. Especially when you told me that you and Luke wouldn’t be having any kind of relationship.”

“Fine, so we’re in a sexual relationship. But that’s all it is. And while we’re on the subject, could you keep your voice down? We have to keep it secret. Those stupid rules and all that.”

Christie’s eyes widened. “A sexual relationship? That’s ‘all’ it is? You know how lame that sounds?”

“It’s only sex, St. John.”

Are you sure? Can it ever be only sex, when the sex you’re having is with the father of the baby you’re currently pregnant with?

Marisa ignored that thought. She couldn’t think about anything more. About anything deeper. About the way her heart beat faster whenever Luke walked into the room. Whenever he looked at her. Whenever he touched her. A quickening of her pulse that had nothing to do with sex…