I’m on thin ice above dangerous waters.
“Gold…then….I guess,” I whisper. Every word leaves my mouth sharply, slicing my tongue on their way out.
“Deep azure?” Malcolm’s smile stretches, and he fixes his gaze on his monitor, typing something in. “With a low back, so my fingers can graze the bare skin of your spine?”
I flinch. “Please. No.”
“A ravishing cerulean, then?”
“Gold.As pale as possible.”
“With a scandalous cut?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Ah.” He covers his infuriating smile. “I see. You intend to make me suffer untilourwedding day.”
My eye twitches. “Sufferwhatexactly?”
“A modest lover.”
My attention hooks firmly on the scarf circling his throat.Modestis not the first thing that comes to mind when I consider what I’ve already done to him in this “relationship.”
And it surely can’t be what comes to mind for him either as his hand lowers from his stubble to his Adam’s apple, tugging fabric out of the way so his thumbnail can skate across the angry marks on his neck. He lifts his chin, baring the bruises. Eyes heavy-lidded, he watches me. Once I’m uncertain whether or not I can bear it any longer, he says, “Pale gold.” His hand falls to his keyboard. “I appreciate your sacrifice. I’ll send you a few design options soon, and you can pick whichever is the most tolerable.”
I force air into my body. And desperately change the subject. “So your brother’s getting married?”
“He is.” Malcolm keeps his focus on his computer screen. “It’s a secret, though, so please don’t go around telling anyone. Be certain the invitations reflect its discreet nature.”
“Understood.” Not telling secrets is part of my job description as the Swallow brothers’ executive assistant anyway. “Congratulations to him. Whoever he’s marrying is a very lucky woman.”
Malcolm freezes. Agonizingly slow, he turns his focus to me. “What?”
I stare at him. “Did I say something wrong?” I’m nearly positive my comment was classic and tired, a tried-and-true script for after having heard about someone’s impending nuptials.
“You believe that the woman ending up with my brother islucky?”
Threads of confusion weave into the air around me. “Is she…not?”
“She is. Of course she is.” Malcolm plants his palms on his desk and rises, leaning toward me. “Ivy’s wonderful. I know that. She knows that.Youaren’t supposed to know that.”
I have no idea what’s going on. “Am I not supposed to know that because he’s a little bit grumpy?”
“Little bit?” Malcolm whispers. “Where, pray tell, do you go about deciding he’s only alittle bitgrumpy?”
I deflate. I dunno, man. He doesn’t smile much, but he also doesn’t make me jump through hoops for him. He’s the definition of professional with me. I appreciate that. “Maybe I’m confusing grumpy with professional.”
Malcolm’s eye twitches.
For my own safety, I take half a step back. “What…?”
“The man I cannot get to wear appropriate business attire to the officeeveris…professionalto you?” He falls into his chair, leans back, and cages his mouth in his fingers. “Quick question.”
I shift my weight, bracing for hisquick question.
“Do youlikeIvy?”
“He’s a tolerable boss.”
