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At least until she showed up at the office to work.
Instead, Cameron stalked around her couch and used a single finger to pry open the Chinese-food container. Full. Not even a bite missing. “You skipped dinner.”
“Not on purpose.”
He glanced over, but she’d set her mouth in a firm line that told him no more information would be forthcoming. All evidence pointed to her sitting down to eat dinner and then falling asleep on the couch. Missing dinner. Missing breakfast. If he turned around and left now, no doubt she’d get ready and rush straight to the office and not eat until lunch, which put a full twenty-four hours between meals.
Unacceptable.
He sat on the couch and pointed at the bathroom. “Get ready. We’re going to have a late breakfast before we go back to the office.” Since there were no paint cans in evidence, she’d actually listened to his order, which was something at least. “We’ll get the paint you want on the way. After you eat.”
Trish’s eyes sparked, but she got it under control almost immediately. She gave him a sweet smile that did nothing to mask the anger written in every line of her body. “Sure thing. I’ll do my best not to slip on a bar of soap and bash my head against the tile. You know, because I’m so klutzy.” She stalked to the bathroom and shut the door with a resounding snick.
Only then did Cameron relax back into the couch. They’d gone past the point of should this morning. He’d crossed the line coming here, but he wasn’t sorry. Trish was okay, and that was all that mattered. She wouldn’t be late again, and even if she wouldn’t tell him what really happened last night, he had to be satisfied with that.
In the bathroom, the water turned on and Cameron groaned. Maybe leaving Trish to her own devices was the smarter option. Because, right now, all he could do was imagine her stepping beneath the spray, to mentally follow the cascade of water down her shoulders, her breasts, to her stomach and then lower yet. He wanted to follow that path with his mouth, to taste her and tease her and bring her to the edge over and over again until he finally tipped her into oblivion.
He just flat-out wanted her.
CHAPTER SIX
TRISH REALIZED HER mistake the second she stepped out of the shower. In her huff to get out of the room before she said something truly unkind to Cameron, she hadn’t grabbed clothes. She wrapped a towel around herself and considered her options. Screaming at Cameron to close his eyes was tempting, but her stubborn streak kicked in and wouldn’t let her.
He’d decided to burst into her apartment and then command her to have breakfast with him. Oh, she knew he’d only shown up because he was worried, and he’d decided on breakfast for the same reason. It didn’t matter. The man didn’t have a subtle bone in his body, but he should damn well try to talk to her like she had a brain in her head.
Or, rather, like she wasn’t about to trip over some piece of furniture like she was starring in some old-school slapstick comedy.
Trish wiped down the foggy mirror and stared at her reflection. You know why you’re pissed, and it’s not because Cameron was worried about you. It might even have been kind of nice to bask in his concern if it wasn’t attached to so many conflicting emotions.
Cameron saw her as Aaron’s little sister. Emphasis on little.
He wanted her—she hadn’t missed those signals—but he’d just as obviously written her off as untouchable. That should be a good thing. He was her boss, as she had to keep reminding herself. He was off-limits.
That didn’t stop her from wanting to force him to acknowledge that he wanted her.
You’re acting like a crazy person. Get ready in here. Walk to your closet like you totally aren’t bothered by a really sexy man sitting on your couch and watching you do it. Retrieve clothes. Retreat to bathroom and get dressed.
It really was that simple.
Trish took a deep breath. She could do this. She’d faked her way out of awkward situations before, and she’d fake it out of this one, too. That settled, she quickly did her makeup and worked some product into her curls. Then there was nothing to do but open the door.
She paused to ensure her towel was wrapped firmly around her body and straightened her spine. I can do this. It’s ten feet. It’ll be fine.
She opened the door and nearly ran into Cameron. Trish brought herself up short a bare inch from his chest and let loose a squeak of surprise. “Cameron!” Just as quickly, surprise morphed into frustration. She glared at his deep gray tie. “Damn it, Cameron. I didn’t fall in the shower. That was a joke. You don’t have to kick down the door and rescue me from some magical injury. You really need to relax, you know that? Have a beer, smoke a joint, meditate, do something because you jumping up my ass every time I turn around is going to get old fast.”
