Page 24 of The Christmas Wife

"What?"

"This entire self-denial thing you have going on… It’s cute…" he tilts his head, "but it can get wearying after a while, for both of us."

I stare, trying to keep pace with his thoughts.

"It is?"

He nods, "And we don’t want that."

My head spins; my skin heats further.Why the hell is it so warm inside?

"I… I think I need to go."

I turn to leave, reach the door, when he calls out.

"A million pounds.”

I pause, then turn, "Excuse me?"

He’s standing in front of the chair. "You heard me." He props his palms on his hips. "I know how much in debt you are."

"My business is doing well." My heart begins to race; sweat dampens my palms.Dammit, why the hell does this guy make me nervous?"In fact, that’s why I am here, to recuperate from the stress —"

"No doubt, caused by the college loans you carry. Not to mention, the ones you took out to finance your fledgling little business."

Argh, did he just call my thriving enterprise 'little,' which it is, but what the hell gives him the right to come across all condescending like that?"And you know all this...how?"

"Do you deny it?" he asks.

Do it. Don’t give him the satisfaction of finding out how right he is.I open my mouth, shut it again. Damn it, but I can’t tell a white lie. Not even to save my arse. Which might be more literal than I realize. A giggle bubbles up.

He frowns. "If you did make a success of your business?—"

I open my mouth to protest.

He holds up his hand to stop me, "—which is dependent on your business acumen as much as on your ability to be a cook?—"

"I’m a pastry chef, you knob."

"Cook." He closes the distance between us, "Even then, you’ll be paying off your loans for the next twenty years."

My pulse rate ratchets up.Shit,those numbers… Not that I wasn’t aware of them. I prefer not to think about it, that’s all. I mean, sure, I could look on the negative and the fact that I’ll be paying off the loans forever… But I’ve been confident I could turn the corner at some point. What’s the other option? Not take risks, work a nine-to-five… Nothing wrong with that. It’s not for me, that’s all.

"So?" I sniff.

"So, you’ll work back-breaking, long hours, behind a stove?—"

"An oven, you prick."

"If you keep alluding to that part of me, I’ll have to assume you’ve been thinking of it."

"No, I haven’t."

He grins.Bastard.My cheeks heat. So, fine, I’ve been thinking about that particular attribute of his nonstop since I sucked on him, like my own private lollypop.Gah!So? Hey, it was a bloody good blowjob too, thank you very much.

"As I was saying," he drums his fingers on his chest, "you’ll waste away your best years, working non-stop, trying to pay off the loans. Before you know it, you’ll be forty and single, not having had the time to find a man?—"

"I don’t need one," I snarl.

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