Talking Dirty With the Boss: A Talking Dirty Novel (Entangled Indulgence) (18 page)

Bloody man. Insane, crazy man.

Luke didn’t speak for the rest of the journey and she wasn’t able to, too busy trying not to get her running mascara from ruining the dress. In the rearview mirror the driver kept staring at them, which didn’t help.

“Congratulations,” the guy said at the end of the journey, and Luke actually smiled at him.

God. It was true, he
was
insane.

Clutching his handkerchief firmly, Marisa let herself be led through the front gate of his house.

“Luke, for God’s sake. The driver—”

“I’m sorry about the taxi. I didn’t want to be anxious about the drive. Come with me.”

So she had no choice but to shut up as he led her around the side of the house and down a small path along the cliff top, to where a small flat space had been cleared. And where a little studio stood with big windows facing the view over the harbor.

“What’s this?” she asked, finding it difficult to speak.

“Go and look inside,” he said.

So she did, cautiously pushing open the door. And her heart dropped away.

There was a long bench set up with a whole lot of equipment around the walls. Familiar equipment. A kiln. A wet belt sander. A sandblaster. A special saw for cutting glass. All the things needed in a glass studio.

Then everything began to run, more ridiculous tears filling her eyes so she could hardly see. She could sense him step up behind her, a tall warm presence at her back.

“I know I don’t have much to offer you, Marisa Clair,” he said quietly. “The OCD makes me hell to live with and that’s not ever going to change. My parents hated it and God knows a lot of other people did, too. But I thought…if I could give you a shot at fulfilling your dreams, then maybe you might consider giving me a shot at fulfilling mine.”

She didn’t turn, the tears running down her face, the sodden hankie making absolutely no impression on them. “I thought you said it was better that I go,” she said thickly. “I thought you didn’t want me to see you like that.”

His hands on her shoulders, his touch so warm. Turning her around to face him. She didn’t want to, but he took her chin in his fingers, holding her so she couldn’t look away.

“I thought so, too. But I was wrong, Marisa. Yes, the OCD is hard to live with and I hate that you had to see me when it was at its worst but…living without you is even worse than that. Living without you is impossible.”

She blinked again but the tears wouldn’t stop. “It won’t work. You know it won’t. How can I be enough to help you with—”

“No, I don’t know it won’t work. I can accept that managing the OCD won’t make it go away. I can accept that it will always be there. But I can’t accept not having you. I want everything. I want you to have your dreams and I want me to have mine. I want you in my life. You and our child. You’re enough. You’re more than enough, and if you need proof then I’ll do whatever I have to do to show you.”

Her throat closed up, the emotions inside her so intense she couldn’t force out the words. He’d put her first. Put her dreams within reach. And yet now that the moment was here, all she felt was fear.

Luke frowned, then took the hankie out of her nerveless fingers and wiped away the tears on her face. “Princesses shouldn’t cry,” he murmured.

And somehow the silly little statement made something shift inside her and all the words came flooding out. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “What if I stuff this up? I’ve screwed up so many other things in my life…”

“You need to trust yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You should. You’re an amazing woman, Marisa Clair. You showed me there’s more to life than the day-to-day. Than management and control. You showed me I could want more. You showed me that I could have a dream if I wanted one. And loving you gave me the courage to reach for it.” He looked down into her eyes. “There’s so much more to you than a pretty face.”

She swallowed. “But what if there isn’t? What if I can’t do this? What if all I’ll ever be is a silly, naive failed model who got taken advantage of then dumped?”

Luke released her chin and reached into his pocket. Took something out. Then he held it up. Her necklace. Gently he laid it around her neck and did up the catch. “You kept that bead for a reason, Marisa. And it’s not only to remind you of your father. It’s to remind yourself of what you can do. Your father could have made you a whole string of pretty necklaces but he didn’t, did he? He got you to make your own because he believed you could.” He touched the bead at her throat. “So there’s your start.” His hand fell away and to her consternation, he took a step back. “The studio is yours. You can use it whenever you want, no strings.” Then he began to turn, to walk away.

“Wait,” she managed to choke out, her voice gone all thick and syrupy. “Where are you going?”

He paused. “Back to work. I wanted to tell you those things. Give you the studio. What you do with them is up to you.”

“But…but what about you?”

“What about me? I told you what I wanted, but that choice is yours. You need to choose for yourself, Marisa.” And quite suddenly, he gave her a faint smile. “I know you’re afraid. But for what it’s worth, I believe in you, too.” Then he turned away again, walking away from her. Walking out through the studio door.

Marisa stood there, rooted to the spot, watching him leave.

Choose for herself. Reach for her dreams, not let her fear of failing hold her back.

That’s what she’d done, wasn’t it? That’s why years had passed and she was still in the same place, drowning in debt, telling herself she was moving forward but not making any progress. Because she’d always been too afraid. Too afraid to trust that she could do it.

The story of her whole freaking life.

But Luke wasn’t afraid, was he? He’d come back for her. Come back to tell her how he felt. Given her a glimpse of what he thought she could be.

I believe in you.

There had been only two men who had ever believed in her. One was dead, and she’d let the other one walk out that door. Because like her dreams, she was too scared to reach for him.

Realization burst like a bucket of ice water all over her.

She couldn’t let him leave. All the dreams in the world wouldn’t mean a thing if Luke wasn’t there to help her reach for them.

Her hands gripped her skirts, bunching them up. Then she ran out of the door in a flurry of tulle in time to see him disappearing around the corner of the house.

“Luke! Wait!” And she ran after him, skidding on the grass in her stupid high heels, treading on the skirts. Fabric ripped, but she didn’t care. The only thing she was more afraid of now was that he’d somehow disappear and she wouldn’t see him again. “Luke!”

But he hadn’t disappeared. He was standing by the front gate ready to go out. He paused and turned to her. And she didn’t stop running because suddenly she couldn’t bear to spend another second without his arms around her.

Marisa flung herself at him and he opened his arms and gathered her into them, lifting her up.

And she found his mouth and kissed him hard, her fingers in his perfectly coiffed hair, ruffling him up. Making him hers. Because he
was
hers.

When she finally lifted her mouth to take a breath, he lowered her to the ground, his expression taut. “Please tell me that wasn’t a good-bye kiss,” he said roughly. “Because I—”

Marisa put a finger over his mouth, stopping him. “No, it wasn’t. It was an ‘I love you and I don’t ever want to leave you’ kiss.”

The taut expression in his face eased. He curled his fingers around her wrist, tugging her finger away. “Marisa, you better be sure. I know you want the studio but—”

“I don’t care about the studio. I mean, I love what you did for me. But I could have all the studios in the freaking world and I still wouldn’t set foot in them if you weren’t there to believe in me.”

His fingers curled tighter around her, not painful but holding on. As though he wasn’t going to let her go. “You know what you’re getting with me. You’ve seen the worst. How I can get sometimes. I’m a crazy man. If you can’t handle it…”

“You’re not crazy. Oh my God, so
not
crazy. And I can handle it. Your schedules and your rules. Your OCD. We’ll handle it together. We love each other, right? We’ll make it work.” Funny how, in this moment, she finally understood what Christie had been trying to tell her.

Luke lifted her hand, kissed her palm. “Tell me, princess. I have to check.”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. She knew. “I love you, Luke McNamara. And I love how kind you are. How romantic you are. How caring you are. And though your logic drives me round the bend, I love how you make me see things from a different angle. And you know what? I even love your OCD because I know you check on me because you care. Because I’m important to you.”

The look in his eyes flared. “Marisa… Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“To be sure, right?”

“Yes.”

Checking behaviors. But this time she had a good idea how to help. Reaching up, she pulled his head down and kissed him.

Which solved the problem nicely.

Epilogue

Dear Boss Man,

Guess what color my panties are this morning.

Yours sincerely,

The saucy pregnant lady sitting on your sofa.

Marisa, are you bored again?

Luke McNamara

CEO, McNamara Financial

How did you know? BTW, I love that you still keep your signature line when you’re e-mailing me.

Of course. Why would I take it out? And go and read a book. Or watch that stack of DVDs I got you. Or work on that mixed media assignment that, need I remind you, is due in two weeks.

Luke McNamara

CEO, McNamara Financial

Bah. I have an extension on my assignment. And I do not want to read a book! And I’ve watched all the movies!

Already?

Luke McNamara

CEO, McNamara Financial

Yes. I really want to get out into my studio and finish that piece for the gallery but I can’t. My feet hurt too much. Oh hey, how did the big announcement go at work?

It was fine. They were congratulatory about the engagement. Do you need a foot rub?

Luke McNamara

CEO, McNamara Financial

Of course they were. Who doesn’t love a wedding? I’ll have to get on to the invites soon, I guess. And as for the foot rub, I can wait till you get home. Could use a back rub, too. My back is killing me. This pregnancy thing is way overrated.

Your back?

Luke McNamara

CEO, McNamara Financial

Yeah…actually it’s starting to get annoying.

Princess. Is it time?

Luke McNamara

CEO, McNamara Financial

I don’t think so. It’s only a sore back. Little peanut isn’t due for another—what? Three days?

Don’t move. I’ll be home in five.

Luke McNamara

CEO, McNamara Financial

About the Author

Jackie has been writing fiction since she was eleven years old. Mild-mannered fantasy/SF/pseudo-literary writer by day, obsessive romance writer by night, she used to balance her writing with the more serious job of librarianship until a chance meeting with another romance writer prompted her to throw off the shackles of her day job and devote herself to the true love of her heart—writing romance. She particularly likes to write emotional stories with alpha heroes who’ve just gotten the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines.

She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, two kids, two cats, and some guppies (possibly dead guppies by the time you read this). When she’s not torturing alpha males and their stroppy heroines, she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, posting random crap on her blog, or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband.

You can find Jackie at www.jackieashenden.com or follow her on Twitter @JackieAshenden

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to my wonderful editor Libby Murphy—you make all my books so much better.

Thanks also to Maisey Yates for all the encouragement and hand-holding, and for loving Luke as much as I did.

And to Mum and TD for their kid-wrangling skills while I was trying to manage deadlines. Couldn’t do it without you.

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