Page 24 of Teasing Her Grumpy Boss

He stepped back towards her as she sat on the edge of the table. ‘I wasn’t the one screaming the house down.’

Now that was below the belt. She looked away from the rippling muscles on show and swallowed back the desire, Let icy anger trickle in.

‘Come on. You were all over me.’

Well, of course she was. He was a god. He had the body of an Olympian and the technique of a master. She’d been weak just by looking and conquered with the first kiss. She had to pull back now because he was never going to be reciprocating her kind of stupidity.

Once only. No analysis.

He took her silence in the way she intended. ‘Never again?’

She shook her head.

‘We’ve satisfied your curiosity and once was enough?’

She nodded.

He took another step forward and ran his finger from her neck to her breast—and she couldn’t control the tremor. ‘How long has it been?’

Oh, so he thought that was relevant? She refused to look at him. Maybe it was. Maybe that was why she felt so in danger of emotional investment. Honestly, she’d been without for so long even she could hardly remember.

‘That long, huh?’ A little laugh escaped him—whisker of humanity. That it was amusement at her expense made her mad. He ran his finger over her tightly shut lips, teasing them. ‘You know, you’re not so good with manners, Lucy. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to mind your ‘p’s and ‘q’s?’

She threw him a vile look. His smile faded and the mask of indifference that took its place was much better than hers had been—probably because it was genuine.

‘So we haven’t broken through your bravado layer. Maybe we never will. Whatever.’

He strolled from the pool table with casual ease. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

He collected his scattered clothing along the way.

She stood up and stared after him. Deflated. Well, she’d done it. Had she been hoping for more of an argument from him? Or wanting him to say, ‘No, babe, that was fantastic we’ve got to do it again’? At least offer some clue to his thoughts? He was shut up tighter than a twenty-year-old jar of pickled peppers. She watched as he pulled on his boxers, then felt irritated as a feeling of loss hit her when his body was hidden from her again.

He pulled on the trousers but held his sodden shirt in his hand. ‘We’ll share a cab.’

Panic surged as a new threat occurred to her. ‘No, that’s okay I can walk.’

‘No. It’s late. You’re tired.’

‘It’s almost light out. I’ll be fine.’

‘No argument. Get your jacket.’ Now he was doing the gentleman act? Terrible timing.

‘No, Daniel, I’m fine.’

‘Okay, I’ll get it for you.’

‘Daniel!’

He didn’t listen. She hurried after him, stress giving her speed. She knew the job would be over the minute he saw her stuff there. He walked straight into the back room. Stopped. Saw her pack and violin case. Saw her sleeping bag on the two-seater sofa-unrolled with her sweatshirt rolled into a makeshift pillow at the head. He stared at it, then at her. ‘What the hell is going on?’

She didn’t have any clothes on—save her cowgirl boots. She didn’t have a home to go to. She’d just slept with her boss and then rejected him. She was in such a mess. It was so typical. She could always count on her innate ability to stuff things up.

‘What’s your address, Lucy?’

‘Daniel, I—’

‘Street address. Now.’

---