I have said that out loud.
I have saidunexpected nudityto my half-naked boss while touching his chest.
If the floor opens up now, I will not fight it.
For one heartbeat, something moves at the corner of his mouth.
Not a smile.
Jordan Richmond does not smile. He permits the idea of a smile to briefly approach the property line, then sends it away.
But still.
He almost smiled.
Then his face locks down again.
He steps back, taking his heat with him. My hands fall uselessly to my sides. He keeps one fist clenched around the towel at his hip.
“Out, Miss Mullen.”
“Yes.” I turn too quickly, then stop myself before the rug can finish the job. “Yes. Going. Very good plan.”
I make it three steps.
“Natalie.”
My name in his voice stops me cold.
Not Miss Mullen.
Natalie.
I look back before I can talk myself out of it.
He is still standing there in nothing but that towel, water dripping slowly from his hair to his chest. His eyes move over my face, my hands, my dress, then back to my eyes.
“Go outside and get some air. Looks like you need it.”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me.”
The nerve of this man.
The absolute, towel-wearing nerve.
“I will.”
I lift one hand in what I hope is a professional gesture and not a surrender flag. “Contracts are on your desk.”
“I know.”
Right.
He knows.
Because I said that.
