She studies our hands as I link our fingers together.
“Call me crazy,” I say. “But I think I might like you too.”
CHAPTER NINE
BECK
I toss my stress ball against the wall and then catch it. I do it again and again and again.
What should this heroine’s career goals be?
She could be a doctor.
Toss ball. Catch.
A chef.
Toss ball. Catch.
An athlete.
Toss ball and—
“What the ever-loving hell are you doing in here?”
The ball smacks me in the forehead as I dodge out of my chair at the outburst that just came through my office door.
Calla is standing in the doorway, her light hair a curly mess as it falls over her shoulders, framing her face.
She’s got on a pair of polka dot pajama shorts and a tank top that cuts off at her belly button, showing the smallest amount of skin to tease a guy just right.
Slowly, a grin takes over my lips. If I recall on the night we got married, she reminded me multiple times how my sly grin makes her want to crawl into my lap.
I know the moment her eyes land on my mouth. She switches her stance, crosses the opposite leg in front of the other, and glares at me.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Do you now?”
She nods. “Mm-hmm. It’s not going to work.”
I tilt my head. “No?”
Her expression switches like a light switch from annoyed to flirtatious.
“Well,” she steps into my office. “Unless…”
I swallow. She’s calling my bluff. Except it isn’t really a bluff. Yes, we are married. Yes, we have kissed, but the rest of it? Not so much.
She runs her finger over my collarbone and then stands behind me to whisper in my ear, “We are married, after all. Shouldn’t we get the reward for that tiny fact?”
I lick my lips and close my eyes. An image of all the things I want to do to her flash through my mind. On my desk, on the floor, in this chair, up against the wall… the list goes on.
“We are.” I clear my throat.
I reach for her leg, but she backs up.
“Too bad I don’t like you.”
