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His uneven stride did nothing to slow the pace as he marched her, none too gently, into Phil’s office and slammed the door.
‘Now, let’s have it,’ he said, his voice low as her back butted the carved pine. He propped one hand above her head, caging her in. ‘I want to know what made you react like that.’
Outrage blinded her. ‘How dare you haul me about like that!’ She slapped her palms against his chest, pushed hard. He didn’t budge. ‘And I’m never sleeping with …’
His lips came down. Hard, fast, insistent. And the protest got stuck in her throat. Right alongside the resistance.
She gasped. Strong fingers angled her head to deepen the kiss and molten heat shot up from her core. Her hands flexed in the soft cotton of his T-shirt as the sure strokes spread the wildfire.
Her breath gushed out as he lifted his head, moisture flooding between her thighs but doing nothing to put out the fire. One large palm settled on her hip, steadying her.
‘Never say never, Maddy. Not to me. Not when you don’t mean it.’
‘But I do mean it,’ she stammered, but the denial sounded false, even to her.
The rough, callused pad of his thumb touched her cheekbone. She could hear the thunder of her own heartbeat, feel her pulse pummelling her neck as he traced the line of her jaw, pressed the flutter in her throat. ‘No you don’t,’ he murmured.
She looked away, feeling the outline of his arousal against her belly. Her sex ached and tightened, ready to receive him. She realised vaguely she wasn’t revolted by him. Her boss. But hideously turned on.
Shame mingled with longing, the unstoppable rush of response a betrayal. Of that little girl who had sworn to despise all the women in her father’s life—so she wouldn’t have to despise him.
‘What happened? Tell me,’ he coaxed.
‘I have ethics, that’s all,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think it’s right.’ She couldn’t tell him. It would leave her vulnerable. Like that frightened child with the evidence of something she’d tried so hard to deny branded on her memory for ever.
‘That wasn’t ethics.’ He lifted her face. ‘I’d say it was more like a phobia. You were physically sick.’
Tears clogged her throat at the concern in his voice.
‘I wasn’t sick. It wasn’t that bad. I’m just tired and I hadn’t had breakfast and …’ Her pathetic attempt to explain away what he had seen trailed into silence as he continued to study her, knowledge and understanding in his steely gaze. ‘Can’t you just forget it?’ she asked.
‘No, I can’t.’ He huffed out a laugh. ‘I don’t want to fire you, but I will, if that’s the only way I can make love to you again without you throwing up all over me.’
She heard the wry amusement in his tone—and the note of arrogance.
‘Who said we were going to make love again? When did I agree to that? Or don’t I get a say?’ The adamant statement sounded fairly ridiculous after the kiss they’d shared. But she didn’t care.
He sent her a sceptical look. ‘How about we manage one problem at a time here?’
‘Excuse me, my choice of sexual partners is not a prob …’
‘Why can’t you talk about it?’ he interrupted. ‘Was it that bad?’ The tender tone cut the lecture off in mid-flow.
She sighed. ‘No, it wasn’t bad. Just embarrassing.’ Maybe reason would deflect him. ‘Honestly, Rye. It’s not that big a deal. It’s silly.’
‘Humour me.’
‘Oh, for …’ She bit back the curse. He looked more stubborn than ever.
She stared over Rye’s shoulder at the wide surf-battered beach through Phil’s office window—and felt cornered. It seemed the more she held out, the more tenacious he became. Maybe if she got it over with he’d lose interest and let her be.
‘All right. But, I warn you, it’s an incredibly boring story.’ She took a shuddering breath.
Tell him quickly, with as little emotion as possible.
‘When I was thirteen, I went to see my dad at his office. It was his birthday and I’d brought him a present. My mother had kicked him out of the house. Again. Two days before. So he was staying at a hotel. Anyway …’ She fumbled to a halt.
Stop reciting your life story. He’s not that interested.
