Page 22 of Reckless Promises

“I don’t work in my pajamas. It’s unprofessional.”

“It’s seven-thirty.”

“I’ve been up for three hours.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“I’m aware.”

“And this is your home.”

“It’s myhouse,” I correct her. “And just because I live here doesn’t mean my business stops when I walk in the door. Something you should probably think about next time you leave the room in lingerie.”

Odette grinds her teeth, and Darci nudges Peyton, who quietly walks around Odette to leave the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to eat, Ms. Bardot?” Darci asks, not immediately following Peyton.

Odette shakes her head. “Not right now.”

“Very well.” She rolls her shoulders back, seeming as annoyed as I am that Odette still refuses to eat. “Mr. Cross, please call me if I can get you anything.”

I nod as she leaves the room, and Odette waits until the kitchen door closes behind her to step further inside.

“You’re up early,” I say, once more grabbing my phone and skimming through it.

At least if I stare at the screen, I won’t notice the slit in her robe that shows off one thigh with each step.

“And you’re so observant.” Odette walks over to the counter and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring herself a cup.

No cream.

No sugar.

Black and steaming hot.

“Occupational hazard,” I tell her. “I notice everything.”

She nods, humming, as she comes to sit across from me, pinning me with her hypnotic eyes.

Odette doesn’t look a day over twenty-one, and in the morning light, she’s practically glowing.

“So no breakfast?”

She shrugs, blowing on her hot coffee. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Or dinner?”

She rolls her shoulders back. “I wasn’t hungry.”

I don’t believe it, but she seems determined to put up a fight.

“How’s your dress?” I change the subject, not that her mood will get much better if I bring up the wedding we’re both dreading tonight.

“Like you care.” Odette leans back, taking a sip of her coffee, flinching when it burns her tongue.

“How about I pretend to care for your sake?” I force a smile that gets me one of her pretty little glares.

“How sweet of you,” she bites back. “In that case, I hate it.”

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