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“You’re surprised?”
“The story isn’t over yet. By the time you get to the ending, you might change your mind.”
Her eyes probed his, as though trying to see the denouement behind them. “I really don’t have a choice, do I?”
“No.”
“Okay. In the meantime, what do you think of my suggestion about Roark’s love life?”
“I repeat, Maris, give me time.”
She leaned forward eagerly. “You’ve already changed it, haven’t you? There’s more, isn’t there? Same girl?”
“Why don’t you have your navel pierced?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you’re going to wear hip-riding skirts and shirts that tie at the waist, why don’t you have—”
“I heard you.”
“Then why?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Too bad.”
“The thought of it gives me the willies.”
“A small loop. A tiny diamond stud. It’d be sexy. Er. Sexier.” His eyes moved up from her midsection to her face. “Those glimpses of your belly button are already a major turn-on.”
She squared her shoulders. “Parker, if we’re going to have a professional relationship, you cannot talk to me like that.”
“I can talk to you any damn way I please.”
She gave a stubborn shake of her head. “Not if you want to work with me, you can’t.”
“You’re free to go.”
But she stayed seated on the crate, as he’d known she would. As he’d hoped she would.
Thunder rumbled and rain pelted the roof, but the racket only emphasized the strained silence between them. Parker rolled his chair closer to her until his knees were only inches from hers. “What did you tell your husband?”
“About what?”
“Being here. I assume you called him.”
“I did. I left word that things were going well.”
“Left word?”
“With his secretary.”
“He doesn’t have a cell phone? See, he strikes me as the kind of guy who would have one of those damn things practically glued to his ear.”
“He was having lunch with the editor of our electronic publishing division. I didn’t want to interrupt them. I’ll call him later.”
“As you’re going to bed?”
