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“For heaven’s sake, sit down,” she said, irritated.
He took the seat next to her on the couch.
“What are you going on about?” he asked mildly.
She turned to him, realizing too late that now she was nearly sitting on top of him. “I… what…” she stammered, and he smiled.
Fed up with him, with herself, and the whole situation, she took a deep breath. “Peter Walsh, does he work for you?” she asked.
“Yes, he does.”
Zoe frowned. “Whose idea was it to offer me the job in London?”
“Mine.”
Exasperated, Zoe stared at Dale. He didn’t even look worried or ashamed or guilty.
“Why?” she demanded. “At the time I told you I didn’t want to work with you, why did you get me a job in London?”
“I didn’t get it for you. You were merely offered the job. You could have turned it down,” he said as if it was the most logical thing in the world.
“Dale, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you do that? I don’t understand. What—”
And then he kissed her.
*
He hadn’t plannedthe kiss. But that was the only way he could think of to stop her from asking so many damn questions. Hell, he didn’t know why he did anything when she was around—why he was here, why he’d dropped off a very beautiful and willing woman without even so much as kissing her, why all he could think of was to get here. To be here. With Zoe. Trying to explain something he didn’t understand himself was impossible.
Her lips opened in a surprise gasp, and he pulled her closer, his tongue seeking entrance to the wet depths of her mouth. He swallowed the groan from deep within her throat and teased her tongue with his.
“This is such a bad idea,” she murmured against his lips but didn’t pull away.
“I know,” he agreed huskily and intensified the kiss. Right now, he didn’t want to talk, to think, because what was happening between him and Zoe was way beyond anything that could be discussed, dissected, or understood. It just was.
The velvety texture of her skin egged him on to explore what he knew to be underneath the tight-fitting dress she wore. Restlessly, his hands molded her body to his while he searched for the zipper at the back of her dress. He slowly began to lower it.
“Dale.” She gasped and lifted her head.
His hand on the zipper froze. Passion had darkened the blue of her eyes. She put a hand out and touched his mouth.
“What is this?” she whispered, frowning. “This… thing between us? I don’t even like you.”
He combed back her hair, noticed his fingers were unsteady. He tried to smile, but he didn’t think it was working.
“I… don’t know. All I know is that I want you with a need I don’t understand. There is nothing logical about this—hell, you’re not even my type. You’re too… distracting.” He grimaced, and she lifted an eyebrow and tried to move back. But he held on tightly. “But I want you. That is all I know now.”
Her gaze roamed over his face and he groaned. “You’re not helping if you look at me like that.” He growled and kissed her.
He lifted his head a fraction. “At this point I can still walk away, but I don’t know about five seconds from now.”
*
Zoe tried torationalize the situation, but her usually neat and orderly brain had stopped working altogether. He wanted her, and for once in her life, she was not going to overthink a situation.
She went with her instincts. “I don’t want you to go,” she said and got up.
She bent her hand backwards and slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress. Dale’s eyes never left hers.
