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st.”
“Everyone hates the dentist.” She flipped through the notes she’d taken when she’d spoken with the Realtor. “There’s a four-bedroom in the Queen Anne district. A five-bedroom on Mercer Island, which I’m t [ch old isn’t all that far from where you live now. And a stunning six-thousand-square-foot home in Kirkland.”
“Fine. Is that it?”
“No. I think you should look at a condo on Second Avenue. I know you said you didn’t like the noise downtown, but you really need to see it.”
“No.” Click.
She waited a half hour and called. “I brought some grapes. Do you want some? They’re really fresh and delish.”
Click.
She waited an hour and then: “What does it mean to fall head over heels? If you fall, shouldn’t it be heels over head?”
He swore so loudly it sounded like he was in the room. “I’m going to kill you,” he said from the doorway.
Chelsea jumped and spun around in her chair. “Crap!” She clutched a handful of Pucci dress above her heart.
“I swear to God, I will strangle you with my bare hands if you call me with bullshit just one more time.” He looked like he meant it too. His eyes were squinty yet shooting fire at the same time. He wore jeans for a change with his white T-shirt. A pack of smokes rolled up in one sleeve would have completed the look.
She slid her fingers to the side of her throat and felt her racing pulse. “You scared me to death.”
“I’m not that lucky.” He gave her a hard stare for several moments, one that she was sure he’d used on his hockey adversaries. One that she was sure worked. “I’m expecting a call on the house phone in about fifteen minutes. It’s my agent. Don’t pick it up.” He walked away, and his voice trailed behind him. “And for the love of God, don’t call my cell.”
She wisely bit her tongue. She reminded herself that she wanted this job. Needed it. For the rest of the day, she kept herself busy. She scheduled an appointment for an appraiser to come look at Mark’s house next week, right after the cleaning crew left.
At three, the real estate agent called Chelsea’s phone. A house in Bellevue had just been put on the market within the past hour. It wasn’t even listed yet, but she was sure once it was, it would go fast. Probably before Monday. After Chelsea hung up with the agent, she stared at the cell in her hand. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want be strangled…but if she didn’t tell him about the house, she wasn’t doing her job. And the new listing wasn’t a “bullshit” call. She took a deep breath and dialed fast. It rang somewhere in the house but he didn’t pick up. She dialed again and followed “American Woman” around the stairs and toward the back of the house.
She found Mark asleep in the leisure room. Once again, the sound on the television was turned way down and he lay on the wide chaise asleep. She stood near the doorway and called his name. “Mr. Bressler.”
He didn’t stir and she moved toward him. His right hand was resting on his chest, and he wasn’t wearing his splint. “Mr. Bressler.” He scratched his chest through his T-shirt but still didn’t wake up. She leaned over and touched his arm. “Mr. Br [ &#essler. I need to talk to you.”
Slowly his lids lifted and he looked up at her. Confusion knitted his brow and he asked in a voice all rough and smoky from sleep, “Why are you dressed again?”
Chelsea froze with her hand on his shoulder. “Huh?”
“That’s okay.” A beautiful, sweet smile curved his lips. He looked at her as if he was actually pleased to see her—as opposed to how he’d looked at her earlier—ready to kill. Seeing his smile reach his eyes, she could almost forgive him anything.
“I need to talk to you, Mr. Bressler.”
“And I need to talk to you.” He reached for her. One second she was looking down at him, and in the next, she was on the chaise next to him, looking up into his face.
The wind left her lungs with a soft oomf. “Mr. Bressler!”
He gazed down at her from beneath heavy lids. “Don’t you think it’s time you call me Mark? Especially after all the things you let me do to you?”
“What things?”
He chuckled and lowered his face. “This,” he said just above her mouth. “Here.” His lips slipped across her cheek and he whispered into her ear. “Everywhere.”
They hadn’t done this. She’d remember if he kissed her. Especially “everywhere.” She raised her hand to his shoulder to push him away. Beneath her palm, his hard muscles bunched and turned rock-hard.
“Yes,” he whispered against the side of her neck. “Touch me again.”
Again? His soft breath caressed her skin and spread warmth across her chest. He kissed her just below her ear, and it felt good. Nice. Like slow, lazy sex on a hot summer day. Definitely something she shouldn’t be feeling for her employer. “I thought you didn’t like me very much.”
“I like you too much.” He opened his wet mouth against the side of her neck and softly sucked her skin.
