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“Fucking a team of baseball players,” she supplied sweetly, hoping that would crack the glaze of exhaustion in his eyes.
Bingo.
“So sorry to interrupt. Is the team waiting for you or did you sufficiently wear them out?” His saccharine tone made her hackles rise, as per usual when talking to him.
“Jeez, just get in here already,” she muttered, holding the door wide. It was pouring out and unseasonably chilly to boot. She wasn’t about to have a stodgy, hypothermic CEO on her conscience. It was overloaded enough already.
He aimed right for her living room. “I assure you this won’t take long, assuming you’re feeling cooperative.”
She took her time joining him on the couch. He’d been to her home plenty of times to visit her in-house design studio, but it was still weird to see him in her space so late at night. The shadows did attractive things to his granite jaw and silver-tinged eyes. Gray was such a flat color to describe them, especially when they flared upon glimpsing the thigh she accidentally-on-purpose flashed as she sat down. There was no hiding her legs in this getup, but she couldn’t help shifting a bit to show them off to maximum advantage.
“What I’m feeling right now is tired.” And maybe a little horny, a state not helped by the interest on his face. “So if this is about the magazine—”
“It’s not.” He didn’t quite meet her eyes. No, his gaze drifted back to her thighs and stayed there. They were good thighs, toned from years of yoga. Still, that didn’t account for his sudden fixation. Maybe last night had affected him after all.
She snapped her fingers and his head whipped up. For an instant, he looked as surprised as she felt. “Yoo-hoo, eyes up here. I was eye-fucked enough last night at the gala.”
“And otherwise, from your claims.”
Alas, she hadn’t screwed any baseball players, let alone a team of them. “As fascinating as discussing my sex life is, CEO, maybe we can move on? I don’t want to shock you too much.”
His lips twisted into a half smile. He didn’t look as if he could manage more. No wonder, if he’d really been working all day. “You’d be surprised at what I’ve done.”
Flipping her loose curls over one shoulder, she gave him an easy smile. Keeping Cory Santangelo off-kilter was one of her greatest joys in life, even when her brain wanted to pound out of her skull via her ears. Spending time at the group home had a tendency to give her a whopper of a headache, and today had been no exception. “I have to admit I’m curious. What’s up with the urgency? And the stuff about the newspaper and online?”
Deciding to see what he’d had to say in her voice mail, she leaned over to grab her phone off the side table, but he touched her knee and she grew still. For once, Cory seemed ill at ease. He rubbed the back of his neck, further messing up his typically perfect hair. She liked the messy look on him. With that little growth of dark stubble, he might as well have just crawled out of bed.
Nope, not going there.
“I have a proposition for yo
u, and it can’t wait.” Before she could tell him to get on with it already, he popped the locks on the briefcase she hadn’t even noticed he was carrying and withdrew the newspaper. He snapped it open, folded it, and held it out to her. “Center column,” he said in a flat, clipped voice.
She grabbed the paper, scanned the page, and died. Metaphorically speaking.
Cory was kissing her. Touching her. Making her moan. And it was captured in black and white for all the world to see.
“Why—what—” She tried to breathe. “What the hell is this? How did this happen?”
“Paparazzi,” he said simply, as if he were discussing the weather.
“Why aren’t you flipping out?” She fumbled for the starfish necklace around her neck. Right then it felt like a choker, cutting off all her air. “Aren’t you embarrassed?”
“Of being spotted in a compromising position? Why, yes, it’s not ideal.”
The man was insane. Certifiable. “Not ideal? Every person in town thinks that you hate me. Now they all know that we—that we—”
“Relax,” he said in a patient tone that made her want to hurt him. “As unfortunate as this is, the situation can be turned to our advantage.” He let out a dry laugh. “Believe me, I had plenty of time to figure this out during all the hours I couldn’t reach you today.”
His complacency was really starting to piss her off. Especially since she was beginning to worry what it would mean for her. “Spill it, Santangelo. What’s your spin?”
“My parents are moving next month. To Arizona,” he added, as if she didn’t already know this. They’d only discussed it half a dozen times. “Work’s been exceptionally busy, which is part of why I hired you for Simply Home—”
“You hired me because I’m the best.”
“Be that as it may, we do have a consultant we work with at the store, and she could’ve handled the staging for the magazine if necessary. I could’ve brought on a separate layout designer to put together the photos and articles before we sent it to the printer.”
“Why would you do that? My handling everything is more efficient. Streamlined.”
