Page 6 of Broken Rules
He was right! She wasn’t supposed to be there. And if Joe hadn’t been such an asshole, she never would have felt justified in using his place without asking.
Damn Joe!
The man shifted on the bed, angling his body toward her. “I’m never wrong, which forces me to ask—does your boss know you’re staying here?”
“Yes,” she said too quickly.
“You’re lying again. He doesn’t know you’re here, which meansyouactually broke into his house.”
She sat straighter and glared at him over the tufted duvet. “Ihave a key.”
“Did he give it to you?”
Her self-righteous scowl faltered. Her gaze dropped. “No.”
He lifted his shoulders. “So then, I think it’s fair to say that we both broke into your boss’s house.”
The duvet fell away from her face as she covered her mouth with her hand. He was right. She had stolen her boss’s key and his alarm code and entered his home, knowing he never would have given her permission. If he found out, would he fire her? The gravity of what she’d done suddenly hit her like a blow to the gut. The knots in her stomach tightened. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Let’s just calm down. There’s no need for that.” He stood up, circled around to the other side of the bed and grabbed the bottle of wine from the nightstand. “Shall we have a drink?”
“A drink? What is this, a social call now?” Her hands released their death grip on the blanket. “What’s going on?”
Without a word, he filled the glass on the table and offered it to her.
She’d never been so confused. “You can’t expect me to take that?”
He set the glass down. “Feel free to change your mind.” Then he crossed to one of two overstuffed chairs near the balcony and sat down. She held her breath as she strained in the dim light to watch his fingers begin to lift his mask. The moonlight revealed a smooth chiseled jaw and strong chin, then full lips. She waited for more, for his nose, to see the shape of his eyes, but his hand dropped away. A moment later, he brought the bottle to his uncovered lips and took a healthy swig. Then he looked at her, watching her like a casual observer. “Come out of hiding. You’re not Bambi and I’m not the Big Bad Wolf.”
“Don’t you mean Little Red Riding Hood?”
A slow sideways smile curved his lips. “Doesn’t she kill the wolf?”
She nodded.
“Then no, I don’t mean Little Red Riding Hood. Come on,” he urged her, patting the chair next to his. “Relax a little. You’re making me feel guilty.”
“You are guilty.”
“We’ve already established that we’re both guilty.” He stood up, walked over to the table, picked up the glass, and crossed to where she sat on the floor and slid down next to her.
Now, she was pinned against the wall. There was no place to go. He was so close. She breathed in his clean, musky scent.
“Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not even going to rob your boss anymore.”
That caught her attention. She licked her lips, suddenly wanting that glass of wine more than anything...well, actually, she would have preferred something much harder. “Why not?”
“Your finger prints are all over this place now. If I carried out the job, you could be blamed.”
He was right.
More confused than ever, she took the glass from his hand and downed the lot. “That’s very considerate for a thief.”
“I’m always considerate.”
Wiping her hand across her chin to catch the dribble, she remembered the gun on the bureau.
Maybe she could make a play for the weapon.
