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“So, I am now? Good to know.”
“Look…” Lexi took a step back, putting some much needed space between them. Much needed on her end. One day, and one day soon, she’d be stepping towards him, not away. “I’m not going to back out on this because of those kids. They obviously need me here. Whatever you are as a boss, you’re definitely the world’s worst uncle. They need someone to intervene. That’s the only reason I’m here. The. Only. Reason. We should have as little contact as possible, because I do find you obnoxious and I’d rather not say anything else, considering you’re my boss and it’s only going to get us into trouble. Plus, my mom taught me right. She told me if I didn’t have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all.”
“How very diplomatic of you. Well then, if you don’t want to talk to me, let me tell you that your room is down the hall, second door after the kids’ room.”
“Great.”
Lexi turned on her heel, heading in the exact opposite direction. Of course, Curtis trailed after her. She wasn’t wearing perfume or any scent that he could pick out, which made sense seeing as she came right from work and unlike him, she respected the scent free policy. He couldn’t exactly peg what it was. He figured it was just her, the scent of her skin and her clothing, her shampoo, her deodorant. It was intoxicating as fuck whatever it was. Heady. Female. It went straight to his dick and his already blue balls turned another shade bluer. If someone tied an elastic band around them, there would probably be less damage done.
“Where are you going? Your room is the other direction.”
She didn’t turn. Didn’t give him the slightest indication that she’d heard until they were standing in the kitchen and she was rummaging around in the bottom cupboards.
“I’m looking for something to clean your stupid wall with. You know, because a little poop is world ending for you. Don’t even bother responding back to that. I already know that you would never stoop to get your hands dirty.”
“Sounds like more assumptions.”
She straightened, her baby blues on fire, doing crazy things to his insides. Fuck the elastic bands around his nuts, they were suddenly up in his stomach.
“Well, if I’m wrong, then tell me now and I’ll give you the pleasure of cleaning it up.”
Curtis almost winced. She wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t going to give her the pleasure of letting her know that though, so he grinned back, giving her the classic James smirk that never failed to irritate anyone who wasn’t melting all over the floor at seeing it. Lexi definitely wasn’t in the latter category. She did indeed have a vagina and most beings with one weren’t immune to his charm. Then again, she wasn’t most beings. There wasn’t anyone on the planet like her, he was sure. He’d spent three years, ever since he damn well hired her, waiting for the right time. Or a time that was rightish. He was pretty sure it was finally happening. She was in his house. She was so freaking close. He wasn’t going to fuck this up. He’d wear her down and he’d make it fast.
“Pleasure’s all yours this time since you’re so keen on it. The cleaning crap is in the pantry over there. Not under the sink.” He pointed at the glassed-in door at the far end of the kitchen before he turned on his heel and walked out chuckling just loudly enough that he knew she heard it.
Lexi wasn’t the kind of woman who was easily won over with bullshit like flowers and chocolates. No. Lexi Wellington was much more complicated. She was the kind who had to hate someone before that feeling morphed into something else. Clearly, she wanted to spar. He was only too happy to step into the ring with her.
CHAPTER 5
Lexi
When Lexi was a kid, she used to get in trouble for exaggerating all the time. Her teachers, her parents, even her brother and her sister all got sick of her wild stories. She was bored a lot of the time and she made up stories to entertain herself. Okay, some of them were fibs too. She used to use one particular expression all the time. That she hated or loved something with the passion of a thousand burning suns. It wasn’t a special phrase. Lots of people used it. Probably still did.
The point was, lying in yet another monstrous king bed with sheets that were too soft and slippery probably because they had a massive thread count and because the house was just the right temperature even though it was July and hot as heck outside, she loathed Curtis James with the passion of a thousand burning suns. Heck, a thousand didn’t even begin to cover it. More like a million. Or a billion. One sun for each of his dollars. Fuck, that might be two billion suns or more. She didn’t actually know. She’d never actually looked up how much James was worth.
