Talking Dirty With the Boss (Talking Dirty#3) Page 4

  So why are you still tweaking his tie?

  Good question. Pity it wasn’t one she could answer.

  Marisa drummed one red-painted nail on her desk. What was it about Luke she couldn’t leave alone? There was something about him that made her want to tease him, provoke him. Despite all the warning bells going off in her head telling her it would be a bad idea

  Ah, dammit, what else was new? She’d ignored all the warnings with Alistair, too. Deliberately ignored them because she hadn’t wanted to see the truth.

  She sighed and switched off her computer without replying.

  Sometime it would be nice to see if she could get through a whole day without sabotaging herself.

  Chapter Three

  “Luke? Your nine thirty is here.”

  Luke looked away from the screen with the stock market prices unreeling on it, and checked the other monitor, where his current schedule was displayed.

  Not that he needed to check. He knew exactly who he was meeting at nine thirty.

  Marisa Clair.

  So, she’d actually turned up. And on time, too. He’d half expected her not to since she’d already made it clear she wasn’t the kind of woman who did what she was told.

  He sat back in his chair, satisfaction unwinding through him, not to mention a very unwelcome burst of anticipation. Neither of which he should be feeling.

  This was a work-related matter. About the use of company e-mail. He had to remember that and not think of underwear of any kind. Or kisses. Or lipstick on his shirt…

  Gritting his teeth, Luke made a minute adjustment to the knot of his tie, made sure the cuffs of his shirt were a touch clear of his jacket. Then he pressed the intercom button. “Send her in please, Lisa.”

  A minute later, his office door opened and a petite blond woman walked in. She appeared…different from the woman he remembered from the wedding. Then, she’d nearly been falling out of her green silk bridesmaid’s dress, tawny gold curls trailing coyly over her shoulder, like a pinup from a men’s magazine. Today, though, those gold curls were pulled up on top of her head in a neat-as-a-pin bun, and instead of a green dress, she wore a plain black pencil skirt with a red blouse.

  The combination should have made her look businesslike and professional, but it didn’t. It made her look illegal.

  Heat pooled in his groin. The fit of her skirt was exact, outlining every contour, as did the red cotton of her blouse as it pulled tight across her full breasts. The color matched her lipstick, drawing attention to the perfect shape of her mouth. And the way she walked in those sky-high black stiletto shoes… There was something inherently sensual about her that appealed to the primitive male inside him.

  Damn. Why was that? And why the hell did it have to be her?

  He’d been hoping that his inexplicable attraction to her, that insane chemistry that had sparked between them at Christie and Joseph’s wedding, had been a fluke. Something entirely situational. But apparently not.

  How bloody irritating. Still, irritating or otherwise, one thing was for sure: he wasn’t going to forget himself as he had that night. Today he would remain in control of himself and of the situation.

  He’d allow himself fifteen minutes to give her his thoughts on her behavior, see that it wouldn’t keep happening, then get rid of her. Once he’d dealt with her, he could meet with the Gibson Group managers knowing he was on top of things. Totally in command of his company. Totally in command of himself. As any normal CEO would.

  That should be easy, shouldn’t it?

  Marisa halted in front of his desk. She had one button of her blouse undone and he found his gaze resting on the necklace around her neck, a thin silver chain with a little misshapen blue glass bead threaded through it. A strange kind of necklace to have only one bead, and a very oddly shaped bead at that. Also, the blue glass should be resting in the hollow of her throat and wasn’t. It was ever so slightly off-center. His fingers itched, desperate to put it straight.

  She gave a delicate cough and raised a perfectly arched brow. “Ahem. I believe I’m allowed to have one button undone without it becoming ‘revealing.’ If that’s what was bothering you.”

  And he realized he’d been staring. For at least a full twenty seconds without saying a word.

  Goddammit. He had a schedule to get through. He should not be standing around gawking at women.

  “No, of course it wasn’t,” he said coolly, getting to his feet and gesturing toward one of the chairs behind her. “Please sit down.”

  “Thank you.” She did so, giving him an amused smile in the process. As if she knew exactly what he was thinking. A woman fully cognizant of her beauty and its effect on men. It would have annoyed him if he hadn’t noticed the faint blush of color on her cheekbones.

  Interesting. Was that in response to him? It disturbed him to realize that he was very satisfied by that idea.

  Marisa gave a little wiggle in the chair, a movement that shot his blood pressure up another notch, smoothed her skirt, then clasped her hands around one knee. She cocked her head, eyeing him from beneath the most ridiculously long lashes he’d ever seen.

  “So,” she said in a smoky, husky voice. “What happened to us keeping our distance from each other, then?”

  He came around the side of the desk, then leaned back against it. Folded his arms. “I could ask you the same question.”

  “What? With the e-mails? I was just having fun, Luke. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Her attention shifted, rather pointedly, down to his groin. “And speaking of knickers… Gray again today?”

  Irritation, annoyance, and desire gathered inside him. The same emotions he’d had the night of the wedding. An uneasy, unstable mix.

  A combustible mix…

  He shifted against the desk, uncomfortable. No, he had to keep this professional. There were rules, after all, rules he had to follow because without rules there was no order. Order meant normality and that’s what he wanted. What he’d always wanted.

  Dammit. Perhaps he should have gotten HR to deal with this after all.

  Ignoring her dig about his underwear, he gave her a steady stare. “Your behavior, Marisa, is questionable. As is your judgment. Care to explain yourself?”

  Her eyes widened. “What is this, the principal’s office? Will you get out your strap and spank me if I say no?”

  Tempting. Very tempting…

  Luke gave the primitive male side of his brain a mental kicking. “You think this is a joke? It’s not. If I’d let HR handle this you could be looking at a dismissal.”

  “Wow, how amazingly generous of you. So why didn’t you let HR handle it?”

  “Because we have a personal connection through Christie and Joseph. And I don’t want this matter to adversely affect my friendship with them.”

  She released her knees, leaned back in the chair, and put her hands on the arms. Recrossed her legs. The movement pulled the fabric of her clothing tighter to her body and he found he couldn’t stop staring at her.

  She was exquisite. All delicious curves and smoldering sensuality. There was nothing quiet or understated about her. Nothing contained or restrained…

  Why did he find that so unbelievably attractive? What the hell was wrong with him? She was his employee and he could not cross that line. He could not break that rule. And yet, he’d hadn’t experienced chemistry like this before. Hadn’t ever let himself experience it. But this woman seemed to be burning through all his defenses. God, all the things she made him want to do…

  No. No. He did not want to do any of them.

  Luke’s jaw tightened. He pulled at the cuffs of his shirt as Marisa eyed him.

  “I’m not sure either of them would care but hey, I suppose I shouldn’t complain,” she said. “I still don’t see the need to get heavy over a few e-mails, though. It wasn’t like I was selling corporate secrets or anything.” Her mouth turned up. “Unless the color of my knickers is a corporate secret.”

  And of c
ourse as soon as she said the words, his gaze reflexively dropped to her skirt as if he could see underneath it.

  Soft white thighs. Red thong. Or maybe it’s a black one. Black lace…

  Silently Luke ground his teeth, double-checking the knot of his tie. This was crazy. He needed to say what he had to say, then get her out of here. Right the hell out.

  “You were in breach of company e-mail policy,” he said curtly. “And you ignored my repeated warnings to stop.”

  She waved an airy hand. “I mean, really. I sent you a few naughty e-mails. It’s not like I killed anyone.”

  He scowled at her, not liking her attitude one bit. “There are rules, Marisa. I take them very seriously and you’ve already broken two of them once. This is an issue of professionalism. Regardless of how we know each other outside work, I’m your boss and—”

  “We don’t know each other outside work. Your best friend married my best friend. That’s the extent of our relationship.”

  “Stop sending me e-mails.”

  She gave him a sultry glance. “Oooh, you’re hot when you’re all growly.”

  Luke found his fingers clutching the desk he was leaning against. Clutching hard. Mainly to stop himself from reaching for the provocative woman in front of him. But whether to strangle her or stroke her, he couldn’t tell.

  Marisa smiled. As though she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Exactly. “You seem…bothered. Am I getting to you?”

  Oh yes, she was. She burrowed under his skin like a burr. With her wide blue eyes and her golden hair. The blouse pulled too tight across the roundness of her breasts. Her slender legs and little feet. The blue bead on her necklace. The bead he wanted to touch. To center. Brush his fingers against the smooth golden skin of her throat…

  Her throat moved, a convulsive swallow, and he glanced up at her face, a predator’s instinct rising inside him. Her eyes were wide. The flush on her cheekbones deepening.

  And there it was, that electricity sparking between them, scorching.

  Her pupils dilated. And for a second her practiced, flirtatious front dropped, revealing another woman. A shocked and unsettled and not at all practiced woman.

  Satisfaction gripped him. Good. So he could unsettle her, get under her skin the way she was getting under his.

  Luke pushed away from the desk, no thought at all in his head but the need to gain the upper hand for a change. Take back the control. She didn’t move, didn’t tear her gaze from his as he came closer. Her hands were white-knuckled on the arms of the chair, but her chin had lifted in a determined way.

  He stopped. “I’m going to give you an ultimatum, Marisa,” he said softly. “Either you stop sending me e-mails or”—he paused for effect—”you let me see what color your underwear really is.”

  …

  Marisa blinked at him. Well, that was unexpected. It was true that she’d been messing with him from the moment she’d walked into his office. From the second they’d locked gazes and she’d seen the intriguing mix of irritation and desire in the depths of his eyes.

  She couldn’t help it. He was so uptight. So perfectly put together. As he’d been at the wedding, all buttoned-up and expertly coiffed. His suit immaculate, his tie just so, his shirt crisp. And all she’d wanted to do was pull that tie, unbutton his jacket, tangle her fingers in his hair, put lipstick on his collar.

  She knew she shouldn’t mess with chemistry like this, especially after what had gone down with Alistair. Most especially when what was between her and Luke was stronger than that.

  But then she’d always been a little naughty.

  “Hmmm, choices, choices.” She hoped her voice sounded normal, was afraid it didn’t.

  Luke raised a brow. “Well? What’s it to be?”

  It should have been an easy decision, since flashing her undies wasn’t a big deal. And yet for some reason, she was strangely reluctant to show Luke. The look in his eyes was so…focused. And the electricity between them so volatile. As though anything could make it explode.

  Yet she knew what that raised brow meant. It was a dare. A challenge. She knew it as well as he did. And he was expecting her to balk.

  Well, he would be mistaken.

  “Sorry, no can do on the e-mails,” she said. “Which means you, lucky boy, get a flash.”

  His impressive jawline hardened but the expression in his eyes turned molten, making all the air rush out of her lungs. “Go on, then. I’m waiting.”

  She swallowed, hoping she didn’t appear as shaken as she actually was. “Turn around.”

  “Turn around?” he repeated

  She batted her eyelashes at him. “Pretty please. Or you don’t get to see.”

  For a second she really thought he wouldn’t, but then, muttering a curse, he abruptly turned around, presenting her with his wide, muscular back.

  Quickly, she slid off the chair and reached up under her skirt, pushing down her panties, wiggling until they came down around her ankles and she stepped out of them. And sighed. She’d dressed this morning with the intent to look totally professional, not to mention utterly sexy—while remaining within company dress codes naturally—but she’d never dreamed Luke Cyborg McNamara would call her bluff and want to see her panties. All her sexy ones were in the wash so she’d pulled out something sensible and cotton and comfortable from her drawer. Plain white. With bunnies.

  “You can turn back now,” she said.

  He did so, his unamused gaze raking her from head to foot. Marisa pasted on her sauciest smile and stepped up close to him. “Put out your hand.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard.”

  Slowly, he extended his hand. Marisa took it, turned it palm up, and deposited her white cotton bunny panties into his hand.

  Luke blinked and glanced down at the item of clothing.

  “There,” she said in an unsteady voice. “Now you know what color my panties are.”

  “Bunnies.”

  “Yeah. You got a problem with bunnies?”

  She didn’t know what she expected him to do. Drop them on the floor? Fling them in her face? Turn around and walk away? But he didn’t do anything of the kind.

  Instead his fingers closed around the fabric at the same time he reached out with his other hand and caught her behind the neck. Pulled her in close. Marisa’s mouth opened in shock, her hands instinctively pressing against the warm, hard wall of his chest as he bent his head and kissed her.

  The searing warmth of his mouth was like a lightning strike, making her toes curl inside her high stilettos. Sending 10,000 volts straight through her, wiping her brain completely of thought. She gasped, her fingers clutching the cotton of his shirt, holding on tight, as the kiss turned hungry, demanding.

  So, so good.

  He tasted like the best red wine, rich and full and decadent. Oh good Lord above, she could get drunk on him. Become completely intoxicated by his taste, the heat of his powerful body against hers. By the dominant way he held her, his fingers gripping the back of her neck as though he never intended letting her go. And she didn’t want to be let go. She wanted to stay here, kissing him, because it had been years since a man had overwhelmed her senses so totally. Taken away the control so completely.

  “Luke?” The tinny sounding voice of Luke’s PA came over the intercom. “Your nine forty-five is here.”

  Luke muttered a curse and suddenly she was free, both of them standing there panting, staring at each other in shock.

  Oh hell, what had happened? Men didn’t usually take the upper hand with her—her sexy, confident manner intimidated them too easily and she preferred it that way. She didn’t want a guy getting close. Especially when there was major chemistry going on, because she distrusted the hell out of that, too.

  But not only had she let Luke have the upper hand, she’d totally lost herself in his kiss. In him.

  Kissing the boss? Not a good move.

  Oh shit. There was that, too. Not to mention the gossip she�
�d heard about his tendency to burn through women. As if she needed to be getting hot and heavy with another Alistair clone.

  “That,” he said hoarsely, “was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  She struggled to breathe. “Damn right it won’t.”

  “Ever.”

  “I’m not arguing.”

  “Good.” He raised one hand, smoothed his hair, pulled at his jacket, adjusted his tie.

  Within seconds he was as cool and untouchable as ever. Except for the lipstick on his mouth. She decided not to tell him about that.

  “Here.” Luke held his hand out. “You can have your panties back now.”

  A simmering anger gathered inside her, for reasons she couldn’t work out. He was so…perfect. After a kiss that had shattered her, he stood there as though he’d been carved out of ice.

  “You can keep them,” she snapped. That would be funny. See what Mr. Uptight would do with a pair of bunny panties in his pristine office.

  He blinked, still standing there awkwardly with his hand extended. Ha. Served him right. Abruptly, he scowled at her. “What about the e-mails? Are you going to stop sending them?

  “Fine. All right. I will.” God, how she hated giving in. Then again, she wasn’t that much of an idiot to keep provoking him.

  Something in his gaze flared. “Good,” he said tersely. And balled up her panties and stuck them in his pocket.

  Okay, so she hadn’t expected him to put them there.

  Marisa opened her mouth. Shut it.

  “Now,” Luke said. “I have a meeting. So run along.”

  The simmering anger sharpened at the arrogance in his tone. It reminded her of Alistair and the patronizing way he used to talk to her. Like she was a sweet, pretty girl without a brain in her head. Like she was a child to be indulged. And she’d never protested because she’d loved him. Because she’d been a naive idiot.

  Well, she wasn’t a naive idiot now.

  “Honey,” Marisa said sweetly, caressing the endearment to annoy the crap out of him, “no one tells me what to do like that. Ask me nicely to leave and perhaps I’ll let you get back to your little meeting.”