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****
What the hell was he doing? Garrett released Maria’s hands and her arms immediately came down and crossed over her chest, her face held rigidly averted from him, as she turned away so that he was left to study her profile.
It was a beautiful profile, but then he’d known that for every hour of every day for the last four weeks.
But that was no excuse. He’d had beautiful women before so why did she matter so much? Women were expendable. And he’d yet to find one who was worthy of his trust. He’d almost been burned in college. He’d found out quick-fast that when a woman wanted a man’s money, or his future, as had been his case, then said woman could lie like there was no tomorrow.
And he’d been lied to. Once upon a time, in his dark past, a woman had claimed he’d impregnated her, to force his hand. But he hadn’t been that naïve. He’d demanded a DNA test, and of course, she’d been found out.
No, he had no reason to trust women, and certainly not the conniving little femme fatale who stood in front of him now, no matter how angelic she looked.
He’d had her number from the beginning. She’d been a bitch to Courtney, and that kind of attitude didn’t simply disappear . . . although until today, it hadn’t been anywhere on the surface for him to see.
There was no question that he needed to focus on getting her out of his mind . . . he just hadn’t been concentrating hard enough. He’d let the last four weeks pass by, hoping against blind hope that she’d do something that would be so off-putting that his lust for her would evaporate into thin air.
But it hadn’t happened. All she’d been was a model employee, smart, hard working, dependable.
But then that shit earlier today had pushed him over the edge. He took in a breath and tightened his abs. His fault. Touching her this morning had been a mistake. Touching her now had been a monumental screw-up, one he didn’t know if he’d be able to recover from. The feel of her slick, wet heat had almost driven him out of his mind, and it was a damn miracle he’d been able to release her when she’d demanded it. Something had to come to a damn head. And soon. Very soon.
With an amount of effort he couldn’t believe it took, he released her and turned away, pressing the button that would allow the elevator to start moving again.
When the doors opened on the gym-floor level, he held the door and glanced back at her. She was still leaning against the corner, her face ashen, her hands gripping the rails. “Are you coming?”
Antagonism lit her features, a brilliant sparkle of ice shining from her eyes. She stayed exactly where she was, shaking her head and clenching the railing so hard that her knuckles lost color. When she spoke, she spit defiant words out that were meant to hit their mark, “Not with you. Never with you.”
Her meaning hit him solidly in the solar plexus and his temper flared as his cock hardened more fully. He took her words one way only, as a direct challenge. So much for attempting to leave her alone.
Well, then . . . game on, baby.
****
The next morning, Maria sat at her desk somewhat amazed that she’d been able to sleep at all the night before, let alone as much as she had. Garrett was already enclosed in his office as well, she’d heard him banging things around in there not three seconds after she’d arrived at her desk.
Logging on to her computer, she crossed her legs and glanced down at the outfit she’d put on not half an hour ago, a tiny hint of restlessness assailing her. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she trying to cause herself more of a problem than she already had with Garrett? If she was, at the moment at least, she didn’t think she really cared.
His attitude yesterday had seriously pissed her off. She hated that he continually tried to intimidate her with his raging, over-the-top masculinity. His actions were beyond the pale, not cool in the least. So naturally, she’d want to retaliate, right? Just as she had yesterday, when, by his own words, she’d turned it on for him. So, this morning, she’d dressed with a bit more care than usual . . . because if he was going to make her life a living hell, she intended to give back as good as she was getting.
She hadn’t done anything overt with her appearance that anyone should be able to peg right off the bat. It was simple things, really, several of them. She’d started with one of her standard outfits that Garrett had already seen at least a couple of times. The top was a simple blue blouse, but she’d worn a push-up bra underneath it, and she’d left an extra button undone. The skirt came an inch or so above her knees . . . but she’d teamed it with higher heels than she usually wore. She always wore at least a low heel because of her lack of height, but she rarely wore high-heels to work. But she had today. Not platform heels, because those would have been too noticeably different. These were stilettos . . . five inch stilettos. She’d added a double layer of mascara to her almost negligible make-up routine, and since her lashes were long to begin with, the effect was rather dramatic, if she had to say so herself. Other than that, she’d curled the tips of her hair, producing a bit more bounce to taunt him with.
