Page 13 of The Sweetmate
I force my voice to remain steady. “We’ll sleep.”
“Together?”
“No,” I gasp. No wonder this guy has a reputation as a playboy. He’s shameless.
“I’d feel lonely in that big bed all by myself. I’ll just take the couch, if you don’t mind.”
“Are you used to having company in bed with you?”Where did that come from?Of course he is. I’m being completely unprofessional. I shouldn’t care. My tone comes out harsher than necessary and far too judgmental when I say,“Maybe that’s why you’re in this mess and needing a constant babysitter.”
“A cockblocker, you mean?”
“Whatever you want to call it, Mr. Riis.”
He laughs. “We’re back to Mr. Riis. And with that tone, you sound like you’re sending someone to sleep on the couch.”
I growl in frustration. “I’m too tired for this. Tomorrow you can take the bed, deal?”
“Will you still be in it?”
“Do you want a sexual harassment lawsuit?”
“Maybe I want to make sure you won’t still be in it. Can’t a guy communicate and ensure we have a clear understanding?”
He’s insufferable. I raise my chin and clip out, “Good night.” Spinning on my heels, I take off toward the bedroom.
His voice is low and far too seductive as he calls out to my retreating back, “Good night, Lisa.”
***
After a restless night’s sleep, I drag myself to the bathroom to attempt to create the illusion of a professional. There’s not enough makeup to hide the tiredness in my eyes. The entire night, I was hyperaware of the person lying on the couch outside my door. Every time I closed my eyes, I thought about his flirty smile, his seductive voice telling me good night and saying my name—my name—like a dirty word. Why isthisthe guy who triggers flutters in my stomach? He’s forbidden in every aspect of the word. That’s why I must keep my boundaries in place and my guard up, even more than usual.
I’m not awake enough for such internal conflict, yet as I enter the kitchen to find a blond Adonis in boxers and an apron,cracking an egg into a mixing bowl, my heart kicks into high gear and I am fully aroused.Alert—I’m conscious.
“Good morning! Eggs sound good?”
“Um…sure.”
“Scrambled? Sunny-side? Poached? Omelet?”
Fertilized.
I’ve got to get some air. “Want me to go get us some coffees?”
“Already made espressos. I also whipped up some creamer. If you like cold foam, it’ll only take a minute to make you some.”
Of course he did.“You make your own creamer?”
He turns his head and blinks at me. “Yes. Not to be cocky, but I like my stuff better. I know what’s in it, and it’s healthier.”
That’s fair.
“Have a seat,” he says. “Give me your order.”
“I’m supposed to be helping you, remember? Shouldn’tIbe…gettingyoubreakfast and coffee?”
“Nonsense. Your wish is my command, milady. Allow me to serve you.
That should sound cheesy, not hot.
