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“Jesus.” His arm dropped to his side and he tipped back his head as if seeking divine intervention. “I did not lie.”
“You said you were working when you weren’t. That’s a lie.”
“I don’t recall ever actually telling you that I was working.”
“Harker.” She wasn’t in the mood for his verbal games.
“Okay. I may have said it. I don’t remember but I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes, and that you won’t do it again.”
“Fine. Are we good?”
“Is there anything else that you’ve lied to me about? If there is, now is the time to tell me.” She braced herself, hoping she could handle whatever he confessed.
“You actually believe that the time to tell you other shit that’ll make you mad is when you’re already pissed at me?” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand women. The only good time to admit a lie is when you’re caught.”
“So you have lied to me.”
“No. Not that I remember.”
“You lie so much you don’t remember?” She had no idea how she was going to live with a man like that.
“No, but maybe one day I said I liked your perfume and didn’t.”
“You don’t like my perfume?”
“That’s not the point.” His jaw clenched and that muscle in his cheek started dancing.
“I think it is. I don’t want you gagging when I come near you.”
“I love how you smell.” He sat next to her. “Especially your pussy when you’re aroused. It’s musky and—”
“Go sit in your chair.” She pushed his shoulder because if he stayed there talking like that she was going to climb onto his lap and ride him like a racehorse.
“I like it over here better.” He leaned against the back of the couch. “It’s much more comfortable.” He stretched out his arm and pulled her against his side.
“Stop it.” She tried not to laugh but a playful Harker was her weakness. “I mean it. Go back to your seat so we can finish this discussion.”
“Good god. The conversation that never ends.” He got up and dropped back down on his chair.
“Which perfume?”
He stared at her as if she’d grown another head.
“I want to know. Which perfume didn’t you like?” She needed to throw it out. She didn’t want him ever not liking how she smelled.
“I don’t know. It was something you got from your mom for Christmas.”
“Vanilla Cream? You don’t like that?” She loved that scent. It made her think of baking and the holidays.
“Not really. Makes you smell like one of the foster homes that I lived in. The lady baked all the time but us fosters couldn’t have any of the treats. They were for her real kids.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Her heart tore in two at what he’d gone through. She’d done research on him before she’d accepted the job offer. There’d been one or two lines in an article about how he’d grown up in foster care. There’d been nothing about his experiences and he never spoke about it. “I won’t wear it again.”
“It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t make me gag or anything.”
“It is a big deal. It makes you sad and I won’t wear it again. I have other perfume.” She hesitated. “I wish you’d said something to me.”
