Page 35 of The Bossy One

I caught it, confused, until I remembered I’d told him I was cold. This time he sat next to me, since Catie had used his absence as an opportunity to sprawl out on the other half of the couch.

It was amazing how much space a wiggly six-year-old could take up.

I pulled the sweatshirt on, since the alternative was confessing that I was thinking dirty thoughts about my boss.

The sweatshirt was loose and big in a way that made me feel…delicate. Sheltered. Worse, it smelled like Declan, which was some combination of fresh soap, aftershave, and something I couldn’t identify. If I’d been alone, I might have done something really embarrassing, like sniff the fabric, just to figure out what that third scent was.

I supposed I could understand why, if you wanted casual sex, you’d go for someone like Declan. What I couldn’t wrap my brain around was, how did you walk away from a man like Declan, once you’d had him?

Or was he always the one to walk away from you?

Declan leaned over and murmured in my ear. “Bet you ten euro the cat did it.” His low, rough voice sent a delicious chill running over my skin.

It also made me realize I’d completely lost the plot of the movie.

“No bet,” I bluffed. “It’s obviously the cat.”

“Shhh!!!” Catie ordered. “Stop talking.”

Declan and I exchanged a chastened look, though Declan didn’t look particularly sorry. I felt like the good student who’d been lured into talking during class by the bad boy.

We managed to stay silent for about an hour, when I noticed a faint snoring sound and realized Catie had conked out.

I nudged Declan. “She’s out. I can put her to bed, if you’ve got things to do.”

Declan flashed me a smile. “And miss finding out who stole the bottle cap?”

“You said it was the cat,” I reminded him.

“The cat got alibied a half hour ago. You’re not paying attention to this at all, are you?” Declan said.

I crossed my arms and settled deeper into the couch. “I might have other things on my mind,” I admitted.

“Like?”

As if I was going to answer that.

Instead, I said, “Thanks for the sweatshirt.”

“It was as much for my benefit as yours,” he said.

“What?”

“That tank top. It…never-mind.” He leaned forward, stretching. “You’re right, we should call it a night.” He turned off the movie, gently scooped up Catie, and carried her upstairs.

I watched them go, feeling a rush of affection mixing with something dangerously more complicated.

I flopped back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, reluctantly admitting to myself that I had the hots for Declan.

This is not a problem, I told myself.As long as he doesn’t find out. And as long as it doesn’t go further than occasionally admiring his arms. And his voice. And his brain.

“Nope,” I said to myself, cutting off that train of thought. “Don’t go there.”

This wouldn’t be a problem. It couldn’t be.

11

DECLAN

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