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“My personal life is none of Stacey’s business. But if Rainie wants to ask me…”
“Okay, but you see, we’ve wasted a bunch of valuable time. I am supposed to be researching you so I can send gifts to the people you care about.”
He frowned. “That’s counterproductive. I’ll buy you anything you want. Why would you use your company’s credit card to buy it when you can have mine?”
“I don’t want anyone’s credit card,” she said, prodding his chest. “And I don’t think I can report back to Stacey that we should send me gifts. I don’t think she’d like that… or believe me. And I’ve already cost you a fortune in coffee. No gifts for a while.”
“I won’t say no, I warned you,” he said, leaning in. “What do you want, baby? What can I do to make you feel good?”
That question could go either way. Except the suggestive light in his drowsy eyes betrayed only one thing was on his mind. Peeking over her shoulder, the conference table was enticing. It might be fun to throw caution to the wind and get dirty right there.
Fantasy. Not reality. Risking her job would be insanity. Though maybe if her bosses saw that, they’d reward her for going to any lengths to please such an important client.
“I have work to do,” she said, stroking the side of his neck. “I’ll come over tonight?”
He nodded. “You want me to send a car?”
“Stop that,” she said, fighting her smile again. “We’re regular Joes… Have you talked to Lance yet?”
“No, and I don’t intend to any time soon.”
“Forgive him sometime.”
“I will just… not yet.”
“Okay,” she said, pulling him down to kiss his cheek. “You be scary boardroom guy and I’ll go Google you.”
“Don’t believe everything you read,” he called to her as she went to open the door.
She glanced back at him once more, appreciating his smile as she showed him her own. Friendship. They could be friends. That wasn’t complicated… not exactly.
23
“What’s all this?” Xander asked as she entered his apartment later that evening.
Dumping the grocery bags on the counter, she began to unpack. “I didn’t know what you’d have in your cabinets.”
“These don’t look like the fun kind of supplies,” he said, peeking into the bags. “You got some toys hidden in here?”
“You really think if we were to have sex for the first time, I’d want toys in our bed?” she asked, gathering up the empty bags to dump them in his hands. “I know what you’re packing in those pants. I can work with it even if you don’t know what to do with it.”
Walking past him, she hid her smile. Damn, hadn’t she told him no flirting? She was bending her own rules.
“I know what to do with it,” he said in her hair above her ear. “Anytime you want me to prove it…”
“And this…” she said, spinning around to present him with a chopping board, “is why we’re cooking together. You deal with the knives, I’ll only hurt myself.”
“What are we making?”
“You don’t like being out of control, do you?” she asked, stripping the onion.
“What gave me away?” he said, putting down the board and showing her the knife he’d chosen. “This is your plan to keep me busy.”
“Dice, dice, dice,” she said, searching the cabinets for what she needed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
As she seasoned the chicken and heated the oil in the pan, she was aware of him there, slicing and dicing. There. Close. Breathing. Thinking. Her shoulders shivered as her gut lightened. Shit.
