Page 55 of Fiery Romance

“Wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Oh, come on now. Who’s going to know?”

“My boss would know.”

Island snorts. “So what? Does he own you? Does he control you?”

“He pays me.”

“And? Money isn’t everything.” She sounds so flippant. “Between you and me, Palinsky, your boss’s habit of moving people around like pawns on a chess board is a giant pain in the butt. If there was an Olympic category for the aching backside, he’d be the Usain Bolt of his generation. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

My eyebrows hike. I pull my lips in to keep from chuckling.

Palinsky coughs desperately. “Miss Hayes…”

“Call me Island—”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Fine, be stubborn if you want. But like Isaid,you can relax. Your boss isn’t here and the police are canvassing the area as we speak. There is no imminent threat.”

“Palinsky?” I growl.

Palinsky chokes. “Yes, sir.”

“Give Island the phone.”

“He wants to speak to you,” Palinsky says.

“Who?” Island responds brightly.

Palinsky doesn’t answer, but that pregnant pause is telling.

Island nervously stammers, “You mean Clay’s… right now? On the phone?”

I grin so hard the muscles in my face start protesting from the lack of use. I wish I could see her face. Are her eyes wide and frightened? Are her full, luscious lips trembling? Or maybe they’re parting in shock?

Why am I feeling jealous of Palinsky all of a sudden? Why do I wish I were in front of her instead of him?

There’s a rustling of cloth and I imagine the phone is transferring hands.

“If I wasn’t such a huge Usain Bolt fan, you’d be in trouble,” I murmur, leaning against the table and crossing my legs at the ankles.

“I regret nothing,” Island says intently. “I haven’t said a word I wouldn’t tell you to your face.”

“Should we test that theory?”

“Any time. Any place, Bolton.”

I close my eyes. Tilt my head back. Feel the knots in my chest loosen one by one. “Your insults are creative. I’ll give you that.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Merely making an observation.”

“I’m holding myself back, boss man. I was the undisputed winner of the ‘Yo Mama’ jokes in middle school. If I take these kid gloves off, I can tear your ego to shreds.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Miss Hayes,” I say, my tone a little deeper than it needs to be.

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