Talking Dirty With the Boss: A Talking Dirty Novel (Entangled Indulgence) (7 page)

As if the words had broken some kind of spell, she frowned. Then slapped away his hands. “Relax. I’ve got it covered.”

The cold gripping him wouldn’t let go. “What do you mean you’ve got it covered?”

She shrugged. “I’m on the Pill. It’ll be fine.”

“There’s still a chance of pregnancy.”

“It’ll be fine, Luke. Chill.”

Luke gripped her chin, tipped her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I will not ‘chill.’ There can be no children, do you understand?”

Marisa jerked away, a flash of anger crossing her face. “Of course I understand. Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot.” She fussed with her hair. “I don’t want kids any more than you do, okay?”

That didn’t help. This whole incident had unsettled him. The loss of control. The intensity of his desire. The fact that he still wanted her, even now.

The fact that you’re in a stationery supply room in your own bloody building with one of your employees…

Christ. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“So now that we’ve dealt with our chemistry,” he said tersely, “we shouldn’t need to see each other again. Are we clear?”

A moment of silence passed and he realized that perhaps that wasn’t the most sympathetic of things to have said.

She eyed him. “Wow, you really need to work on your post-sex manner. Are you always this charming to your lovers?”

“We’re not lovers, Marisa. We had sex up against a door. That’s it.”

“Oh great, tell it like it is.”

“Well, that
is
what it is. We’re not friends. We’re only two people who have some intense physical chemistry and did something about it.” He checked his clothing, smoothing his tie with fingers that really shouldn’t be shaking and yet were. “Don’t get me wrong, it was very pleasurable. But I’m still the head of this company and you’re still my employee, and this can’t happen again. Especially with someone like you.”

She froze. “What do you mean ‘someone like me’?”

Luke pulled free a long blond strand of hair from his sleeve. “A pretty, blond, and very junior PA. Who isn’t really my type.”

A spark of anger glowed in Marisa’s eyes. “Pretty and blond? Junior? You make me sound like a freaking child, Luke.”

Too late he realized that had been the wrong thing to say. “All I meant is that you’re a minor staff member in comparison to—”

The spark of anger became a conflagration, her eyes blue as a gas flame. “A minor staff member? Way to make me feel good about my job, you insensitive jerk!”

He frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really? Then what the hell did you mean?”

“Stop putting words into my mouth. I meant that the power disparity—”

“Hey, you know what? I don’t care what you meant.” She stood with her arms crossed, obviously furious. “I’m just a pretty blonde you screwed, right? Why should it matter to you how I feel about it?”

It was a good question. And the answer—he was disturbed to discover—was that it did matter.

“Marisa—”

“Get out.”

“Marisa—” he tried again.

She threw up her hands. “Actually, what am I doing telling you to get out?” Stepping away from the door, she grasped the handle, preparing to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to soften his voice, annoyed with himself that he’d said the wrong things and upset her. He didn’t set out to hurt people, but being comforting or understanding had always been hard for him. His parents hadn’t given him much of either and he hadn’t had much practice since. “I’m not….good with people.”

“Now there’s a shock.”

“Please, if you’re pregnant, I need to know.”

“Oh, why? Going to do the decent thing and marry the blond bimbo?”

“No, but I take my responsibilities seriously. Whatever else you think about me.”

“I don’t care what your responsibilities are. Thank you for reminding me of what I should have remembered before you walked in here: to stay away from pompous, self-righteous asses like you.” She pulled open the door. “See you later, asshole.”

Then she shut it in his face.

…

Marisa lurched from the supply room and headed straight for the ladies’ room opposite. Then spotted something white on the floor. Oh, God, her stupid panties. Cursing, she picked them up on her way into the bathroom, her heart ricocheting around inside her chest like a pinball.

Luckily, she had the entire room to herself.

With shaking hands she smoothed her clothes, put on her underwear, and repinned her hair. Peering into the mirror, she grabbed a tissue from the dispenser and dabbed at the lipstick smears around her mouth from where Luke had kissed her.

Pretty and blond. Minor staff member. Not my type...

She tried to swallow her hurt and her anger. Failed. Tried to think about why the hell she was so hurt and angry in the first place, when all that incident in the supply room had been about was putting their chemistry behind them.

She wasn’t supposed to care about it or about Luke McNamara’s stupid opinions.

But for some reason she did. And it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

Marisa swiped at the red mark on her neck left by Luke’s mouth and scowled.

The things he said and the way he said them made her feel young and stupid and insignificant. Like she was still that naive little girl who’d fallen for a married man, not seeing what he was until it was too late.

And though she obviously wasn’t falling in love with Luke—hell no—she’d lost it in the supply room. Revealed herself too much. Given him a little piece of herself. A piece he didn’t bloody deserve.

Jesus, what a mess, and it was her own stupid fault. Again.

She sighed and chucked the tissue in the bin, then stared at herself in the mirror. The blue-eyed china doll she saw each day stared back. Sometimes she hated that face. It had gotten her beauty pageant titles and modeling contracts, but it had also gotten her Alistair and the debt situation she was now in.

He’d been an up-and-coming photographer, charming with a hint of bad boy, and had burst into her sheltered life like a whirlwind, sweeping her off her feet. He’d taken her to London and New York, gotten her high-profile modeling jobs, introduced her to famous people, called her his muse. She’d worshipped the ground he walked on, not noticing that he treated her like a child. Gratefully paying for all his expenses and waving away his “I’ll pay you back” promises. Believing him when he said all his money was tied up investments and he didn’t have cash “right now.” Like she’d believed him when he told her he loved her.

Until it had all blown up in her face.

They’d been in LA when his cell phone had rung and she’d found herself speaking to his wife. A wife she didn’t know he had. A wife he’d been trying to hide their affair from by making Marisa pay for everything to keep the expenses secret.

Heartbroken, she’d told Alistair it was over and left him, only to arrive back in New Zealand to find he’d bad-mouthed her to everyone in the business so that she couldn’t get another modeling job. Word was, he was bitter she’d been the one to end it.

It had all been years ago, but she’d never forgotten. Hadn’t quite managed to put the humiliation of knowing how badly she’d been conned behind her. How she’d given herself totally to someone, only to have that flung back in her face.

She wouldn’t be so stupid again.

Gently, Marisa touched the blue bead around her neck, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

“Carpe diem, Marisa. Do you know that that means? It means ‘seize the day.’ Get out there and grab those dreams. Don’t let them escape.”

She let out a breath, released the bead, her father’s voice echoing in her head.

She’d been putting those art dreams of hers on hold for too long. Letting the past with Alistair hold her back. Letting herself get distracted by men and parties and shopping.

The time for that was over. No more self-sabotage. No more mistakes. And definitely no more hot lusty-pants with men who didn’t appreciate her.

She had stuff to do. Dreams to put in motion.

Time to carpe that effing diem.

Chapter Five

“What do you know about Marisa?” Luke had been sitting on the question all evening and he couldn’t stop from asking it a second longer.

The sounds from the busy pub, full of the evening crowd, seemed suddenly loud.

Caleb Steele, ex-All Black and one of Luke’s oldest and best friends—and apart from Joseph, his only friend—raised his eyebrows in surprise. Understandable really, since they were here to talk about Caleb’s skills auction, not about women.

“Marisa?” his friend said. “Uh, apart from the fact that she’s hot?”

“So nothing then.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that.” Caleb leaned his muscular frame back in his seat, brown eyes assessing. “Why d’you want to know? Got an interest there, mate?”

Luke didn’t. At all. Two weeks after their supply room interlude and he’d—thank God—managed to get back to his normal routine without her screwing around with his concentration. Kind of. Mostly.

Except when odd things would remind him of the touch of her skin. Or her hair. Or the tight clasp of her body when he was inside—

“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t.”

“So what’s with the question?”

Luke tried to think of a good reason. “I had a…run-in with her at work.”

“At work? But isn’t she at that magazine of Christie’s?”

“I own the magazine now.”

“Oh, that’s right, so you do. So when you say ‘run-in’ you mean… What?”

“She was using company e-mail for something other than work.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Christ, uptight much?”

Luke didn’t bother with defensiveness or justification. He didn’t do either these days, as he didn’t bother apologizing for the way he was. He had control of his life and his work in spite of his condition, and that was the way he preferred it.

“You should have seen the e-mail,” Luke said. “It wasn’t appropriate.”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh really? Why? Rude pictures? Dirty jokes?”

Luke shifted on his chair. The mere thought of that e-mail should not be making him so uncomfortable. It really shouldn’t.

“That’s not important,” Luke said tersely. “I had to call her into my office to give her a warning about it.”

“Whoa, it sounds pretty bloody important if you had to get heavy with her.” His friend leaned forward. “C’mon mate, tell me all about this e-mail.”

But he didn’t want to share what was in the e-mail. Or in fact anything about their relationship.

What relationship?

Yes, exactly. They’d had sex once and that was all the relationship they had.

“No,” Luke said. “If you don’t know anything just say so.”

“I don’t know anything.” Caleb raised a finger. “But she’s hot.”

Hot. Yes, that was true enough. His thoughts drifted again. To the attraction that had ignited between them when he’d kissed her. Intense and vital. So strong…

“Mate, you’re zoning,” Caleb said. “I need to talk to you about this auction...”

But the rest of Caleb’s statement kind of faded away as the pub door opened and a group of people walked in, only one of whom he’d expected to see. Joseph, freshly arrived back from his honeymoon, yes. Marisa, currently arm-in-arm with Christie, no. Not under any circumstances.

He found himself pulling at his jacket again, his fingers searching restlessly for something to straighten as Marisa’s gaze met his. She paled and her jaw tightened, but then she lifted her chin and approached the table where he and Cal were sitting with no apparent hesitation.

She wore skinny jeans with a wraparound kind of shirt in a silky purple fabric, her golden hair lose all down her back. And despite the fact that he hadn’t seen her for two weeks, that he’d thought that furtive interlude in the office was the end of it, electricity whispered over his skin.

Bloody. Bastard. Hell
. And balls, for good measure.

He surged to his feet, not realizing what he was doing until it was too late. Until everyone was staring at him. “I’ll get the drinks,” he said curtly. Without waiting for a response, he turned and started heading for the bar.

Coward.

No, he wasn’t being a coward. He needed to get the drinks. And give himself a moment to get back in control, try to figure out why the chemistry between him and Marisa Clair continued to burn, because it shouldn’t. As with any of his compulsions, once he’d satisfied the urge, it faded. So why the need for Marisa should still be there, and still be strong, he had no idea.

He didn’t want her in his head, messing up his schedules. He didn’t want her around at all.

…

Marisa sat in her chair and tried not to pay any attention to Luke. A bit difficult with his silver eyes staring at her with uncomfortable intensity from over the table.

How bloody typical that he should be here. She and Christie were supposed to be having a girls’ evening, the first one since Christie’s return from honeymoon. But then Chris had decided to invite Joseph because apparently they were surgically attached at the hip. Joseph who was on his way to meeting up with Caleb and—ugh—Luke.

Viewing it as a test made it more bearable. They had to get along in a social context after all, and that first meeting was always going to be awkward.

She hadn’t quite realized
quite
how awkward it was going to be until she’d laid eyes on him. Sitting at the table, all dark and scowly and broody and hot. In a suit—she was sure when he took off his suit at night, there was another one underneath it—with his tie knotted tight and his shirt all buttoned up. Making her want to…

Ahem. Straight and narrow. No more hot lusty-pants. Carpe diem, et cetera.

“Oooh,” Christie said to Joseph as some loud, thrashy song came on over the jukebox. “Come on, husband. I wanna dance.”

Much to Marisa’s annoyance, Christie dragged Joseph up from the table to have a jump around on the dance floor. And then, to make matters worse, Caleb got a phone call, which entailed him having to leave the pub for somewhere quieter. Which left her and Luke sitting at the table by themselves.

So awkward.

Silence reigned for what was probably a millennium. Marisa busied herself with her phone, checking for any texts she hadn’t replied to. Refreshing her e-mail in-box. Having another game of
Angry Birds
.

“So,” Luke said stiffly. “How are things?”

She decided that staring at him would be a bad idea, keeping her eyes on the screen and firing a big red bird at a particularly smug-looking pig. “Things are just dandy.”

Another silence.

Luke cleared his throat. “And you’re keeping well?”

Keeping well? Seriously?
She risked a glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Hmmm. Has that stick up your butt gotten longer in the past two weeks by any chance?”

He scowled at her. “I’m trying to be polite.”

Well, actually, he was. And kudos to him. He wouldn’t be liking this situation any more than she was. “Yes,” she said, making an effort. “I’m keeping well. Thank you for asking.”

Luke adjusted the coaster underneath his beer glass. “And…ah…nothing’s changed?”

“What do you mean, nothing’s changed?”

He shifted around in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Since we…met.”

Oh boy. If he hadn’t been so bloody annoying, his discomfort would have been rather adorable. Endearing even. And she couldn’t resist a small tweak. “Since we screwed up against the door in my office’s stationery supply room? You mean that?”

His jaw had gone tight. “Yes.”

Marisa turned off her game and gave him her full attention. “And I presume you’re talking about the state of my menstrual cycle?”

“Yes.” The word was clipped.

She gave him a smile that she hoped was sickly sweet. “Ah, well, in that case you’ll be pleased to know that the state of my uterus is at present unoccupied.”

Dull color stained his cheekbones. Oh, she was bad. So bad. But then he’d made her feel ten inches tall two weeks ago. Turnabout was a bitch.

“I meant what I said, you know,” he said flatly. “I’ll support you in whatever—”

“Hey, I know what you said. I was there, remember?”

Luke held her gaze, unnervingly focused. “I do remember. I remember every single second.”

And for a moment the memory of those burning, intense moments pulsed between them, pulling at them like a compass needle toward magnetic north.

Desire spread lazy wings inside her.

Don’t go there, girl. You’re supposed to be good now.

Marisa wrenched her gaze away, heat prickling all over her skin. “You really need to stop looking at me. It’s not helping.”

Another taut silence.

“I thought it would have gone by now,” he murmured.

She didn’t need to ask what he was talking about. “Yeah, me too.”

Neither of them said anything.

Luke got to his feet. “I’ll go. I think that’s best.”

Yes. Yes it was. So why was she…disappointed? “Okay, then,” she said. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Keep me posted, won’t you?”

“About what?”

Luke paused, looked her in the eye. “About the state of your uterus, what else?”

She blinked at him, momentarily disconcerted. Dear God, was Mr. Uptight actually making a joke? She nearly smiled. “Touché. And sure. If you want uterus updates, you got it.”

His gaze narrowed. “Not every day, you understand?”

Marisa almost pulled a face. Damn the man. How had he guessed the naughty little thought that had crossed her mind? “Fine. Once a week, then?”

“No, just inform me when…” He hesitated.

“When I’m surfing the red wave?”

His mouth tightened. “When you get your period, I was going to say.”

This time she did smile, sitting back in her chair and giving him a little clap. “Well done. You said the P-word.” Would he blush again? She hoped so.

But he didn’t. “I don’t find it embarrassing. I was only trying to spare you.”

How…charming of him. “Well, that’s sweet of you, but don’t bother. I don’t embarrass easily.”

Luke glared. Not moving an inch.

Oh, Lord, what was it now? “I thought you were going.”

“I am.” Another pause. “Shall I see you at this auction thing of Caleb’s?”

“What? You want a uterus update there, too?”

He stood so tall and stiff. Like a plank of wood. “If you haven’t had your period by then, yes, I wouldn’t mind.”

Marisa sighed. “Sure.”

“Good.” Luke turned toward the pub doors. “I’ll look forward to it.”

And oddly enough, for the merest second, Marisa almost found herself looking forward to it, too.

***

Marisa dropped the pregnancy test kit on top of her bathroom vanity and stared at it as if it was a bomb about to go off.

She had fifteen minutes before Christie and Joseph picked her up to take her to Caleb’s bachelor auction. Which gave her plenty of time to take this wretched test.

If she wanted to, of course. Because she didn’t have to since she wasn’t pregnant.

Definitely, absolutely
not
pregnant.

Stupid period was late, that’s all it was. Nothing more.

The lateness of the period had meant Luke sending her an e-mail the day before, asking her whether she was okay and whether anything had changed. Which had only drawn attention to the lack of period that was usually as regular as clockwork. She’d told him—tersely, it had to be said—that it would probably come tomorrow.

But now it was tomorrow and her period still hadn’t come. And that meant she really needed to check, to make extra, doubly, positively certain she wasn’t pregnant.

So she could tell Luke he had nothing to worry about and neither did she. Then they’d be able to close the door on this stupid, embarrassing physical infatuation with each other.

Which she would not be sad about. At all.

She swallowed and picked up the test. Great. Peeing on a stick. Could her evening get any better?

It didn’t take long. Unfortunately. And ten minutes later, she found herself staring at the double pink lines that indicated how misplaced her attitude to the whole condom breaking episode had been.

Pregnant. Definitely, absolutely freaking pregnant.

Marisa sat down on the side of the bath, her knees weak with shock, her fingers icy cold.

Shit. And damn. And hell. And all the other bloody swear words in the history of creation.

First peeing on a stick, then pregnancy. There were no words to encompass how awesome this evening was. None at all.

And she couldn’t even combat the shock with a healthy glass of wine. Or escape to a club. Shopping for pretty dresses was now way off the agenda, and going to late-night parties would soon become the stuff of legend.

Not that she’d been doing so much of that lately since she’d been in good-girl mode. Saving her butt off in preparation for clearing her credit card debt and bank loans. She hadn’t gone shopping or out partying. She’d been staying home and scouring the web for art classes instead. Planning her new, long-put-off career as an artist…

A career that she would have to put on hold yet again.

WTG, girl. So much for seizing the day.

A buzz came from the vanity where she’d left her little red silk evening purse. Pushing back the wall of panic hell-bent on crashing down over the top her, Marisa got up and took her phone out of the purse. There was a text from Christie on the screen.

Dude, we’re outside. Get your butt down here.

Oh crap. Now she was going to have go out and see people. Interact as though nothing had happened. Because she couldn’t tell anyone. What would she say, anyway?

“Hey, did you know I banged the boss and the condom broke and now I’m pregnant? Funny, huh?”

Marisa put a hand over her eyes, overwhelmed for a second.

You stupid idiot. You can’t tell anyone. Not yet, at least.

But she’d have to tell Luke, wouldn’t she? And she’d have to tell him tonight.

The cold grip of fear tightened long fingers around her heart as her phone buzzed again. Probably another text from Christie wondering where she was.

Her hand dropped. No, she couldn’t give in to the panic or the fear. She had to pull herself together and deal with this….somehow.