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Oh shit, I just said that. Out loud.
Still he didn’t respond. She stared harder at his tie, sure that if she looked at his face, she’d see pure fury and then they’d really be fighting. Think, Trish. Defuse the situation. Do something to distract him from the fact that you’re yelling at him in a completely irrational way. Her mind went blank and she panicked.
Trish dropped the towel.
Cameron’s only response was a sharp intake of breath. She’d already gone too far to take it back now, so she lifted her chin and glared at him. Mortification threatened to take hold and drive her back to the bathroom. What was she doing? He had her so twisted up, she was parading naked in front of him, and she wasn’t even doing it in a sad seduction attempt. No, this fell firmly into the Panic and Make Poor Choices column. “Don’t you dare say anything.”
“Freckles.”
Her whole body clenched at the way he growled the inconspicuous word. She licked her lips. “What?”
“Freckles,” Cameron repeated. He lifted a big hand and hovered a single finger over the center of her chest. “You have freckles everywhere.” He traced a pattern over her breasts, connecting them without touching her.
The air disappeared from the room. Hell, the room itself disappeared. There was only Trish and Cameron and that single inch of space that kept him from touching her. Her body warmed beneath his attention, and he just kept tracing freckles, a look of utter concentration in his dark eyes. As if he had nowhere else to be, nothing else to be doing, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d connected every single freckle on her body.
This could take hours.
Her nipples went tight at the thought. She actually started to lean forward before she caught herself.
It was already too late.
Cameron took a careful step back, and then another, though his gaze never left her body. Each movement was jerky and filled with barely controlled lust. He wanted her. That couldn’t have been clearer. It was equally as clear that he had no intention of touching her again. He bumped into the couch and swung around to face the front door. “You should get dressed.”
Right. Dressed. Because this thing between them couldn’t happen.
Despite the fact he pointedly wasn’t watching her, Trish kept her head up and her shoulders squared as she grabbed the first things she got her hands on—a red flare skirt and a white blouse—and retreated into the bathroom to get dressed. She stared at herself in the mirror for the space of a breath. Yeah, definitely don’t need blush if I’m going to be spending time around Cameron. I keep acting like an idiot, so I’m going to walk around with permanently pink cheeks. Wonderful.
Her life would be so much easier if she could just find another job—preferably in a company run by women so she wouldn’t have to deal with falling into lust with her boss.
This isn’t just to help Aaron and you know it. You need experience to be able to get in for the jobs you really want instead of an unpaid internship or something entrance level. Because, let’s be honest, you couldn’t even get one of those jobs after you graduated. You can’t afford to quit.
She really sucked at pep talks.
Trish found Cameron exactly where she’d left him and she gave a silent sigh. They could be in bed right now, doing fun, filthy things instead of about to have yet another conversation about why he couldn’t want her. She got it. She so got it.
There was nothing for it. If she didn’t do something drastic, he’d sit her down and gruffly reject her over and over again with his words. She’d had quite enough of that for today.
For always, really.
She straightened her shoulders and grabbed her purse from the table. “Shall we?”
“Trish.”
Oh no. It wasn’t a gruff talk she was going to get—it was a gentle one. So much worse. She blasted him with a bright smile. “We’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you think?” She marched out the door and barely waited for him to step into the hall to lock it behind them. Then she was off, charging for the elevator, Cameron’s muttered curse in her ears.
It wasn’t until the elevators closed—shutting them in—that she realized her tactical mistake.
He shifted to face her, not quite blocking the doors, but ensuring she’d have to slide past him to bolt. Cameron slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m not rejecting you.”
Trish stared hard at the numbers ticking down and silently spit out a few curses of her own. Correct choice or not, it sure felt like rejection. She made a blatant—if panicked—offer. He turned away. End of story.
Except it wasn’t the end of the story, because he was still taking up too much space in the previously spacious elevator. Since she couldn’t will the machine to move any faster, she smiled at him. “It’s irrelevant. Message sent and received. It won’t be a problem.” She made a face. “Well, it won’t be a problem again. I guess I should apologize—again.”
