Talking Dirty With the Boss (Talking Dirty#3) Read online

  A weird thrill went through her as Luke was mentioned. Which was entirely ridiculous since the guy was an ass. Who’d given her a blinding orgasm, yes, but then canceled out the entire experience with his extremely insensitive behavior afterward.

  Not only a blinding orgasm, remember? He gave you a kid, too.

  Marisa’s hand clasped hard around the water glass.

  The spotlight came on and the first person came out, a slender blonde in a shimmering red gown, who also happened to be a high-flying lawyer offering free legal services. Not a few men in the crowd seemed keen, unsurprisingly since the woman was pretty hot.

  The women are going to love Luke. He’s hot.

  The thought sat in her head. She wasn’t a possessive sort of woman, especially with a guy she barely knew. And yet…she didn’t like the thought of people—yeah, okay, women—bidding on him. Not at all.

  Marisa scowled, not liking this jealousy either.

  The lawyer’s auction went by quickly, the winning bid a high one, leaving everyone pleased with the deal. Marisa shifted in her seat, looking down at the auction list that sat on everyone’s table. Next up was Luke. Great. Now she was going to have to sit through his being auctioned off to someone—probably a woman. Because with financial skills off the charts and hotness, who wouldn’t want to bid on him?

  You could bid on him.

  Marisa froze. No, that would be stupid. Why would she want to bid on him? She was going to tell him she was pregnant, then she was going to leave and go drown her sorrows in…a nice warm cup of cocoa or something.

  You could use his financial skills.

  Well, yeah, she definitely could. But that would blow her entire savings—if it covered it in the first place.

  Then some other chick’s going to get his “expertise.” And you really don’t want that to happen, do you?

  Well, no but—bah. Would her stupid brain shut up for one freaking second?

  At that moment the spotlight came on and then there was Luke, striding out onto the stage.

  And Marisa’s brain obediently went into lockdown. Because holy God, how was she supposed to think clearly when the guy could have caused Marie Curie to sigh like a teenage girl?

  He stood in the spotlight in his tux, seeming as though he wanted to be anywhere else but there. Yet even so, he was all powerful shoulders, lean hips, and long legs. The light glossed his black hair and highlighted the incredible bone structure of his face. He didn’t smile, his cold gray eyes sweeping over the crowd. His expression was forbidding and yet with a hint of awkwardness, too, which shouldn’t have made him any sexier. But somehow did.

  The MC started into his patter, reeling off Luke’s accomplishments and what he was offering. A six-month financial advice package that sounded amazing.

  As if on cue, Christie’s elbow dug her in the ribs. “You should bid on him,” her friend hissed. “You could use some financial help.”

  Well, obviously. But she was supposed to be using that money to get out of debt, not to buy more things. Money that was going to kick-start her artist dreams.

  So much for those dreams, baby.

  Baby. Ha. Thanks, brain. As though she needed yet another reminder.

  Of course that was the moment Luke’s gaze settled on her. And stayed there.

  Despite the fact that another couple of weeks had passed since they’d met in the pub, the attraction between them was like a power surge, filling the space between them. Distance and time apparently didn’t matter. All that did was the memory of him holding her against the door as he pushed inside her, the pleasure of it making her totally lose her mind.

  Dammit.

  The MC called for bids.

  Christie put her hand up to start it off, bidding fifty bucks. A few other people raised their hands while the MC continued to talk about the package Luke was offering. While Luke himself kept his gaze firmly on her.

  Tiny sparks prickled over Marisa’s skin. Freaking wonderful. So her body hadn’t learned from its mistake.

  She dragged her gaze away from his, taking another reflexive gulp of her water to ease her dry throat.

  Across from her, at another table, a woman put her hand up. Marisa recognized her as a well-known kids’ show presenter. The woman had an avid expression on her face as she stared at Luke, as though she’d seen the dress she’d been lusting after for months suddenly on sale for half price.

  An uncomfortable sensation twisted in the pit of Marisa’s stomach. A sensation that only got worse when the stupid woman kept raising her hand, bidding on Luke again and again.

  Beside her, Christie muttered, “I bet it’s not just Luke’s financial package she’s after.”

  Gee, thanks for that, St. John. So what I need to hear right now.

  Marisa bit down on the words before they escaped and incriminated her. She’d promised Luke she wouldn’t tell anyone and she hadn’t. Besides, if she didn’t talk about it, maybe it didn’t happen, right?

  The woman across from her put her hand up yet again. The skank.

  Marisa narrowed her gaze at her, the uncomfortable sensation twisting and turning. What if the woman won? What if it wasn’t only financial advice she wanted? What if she found Luke as sexy as Marisa did? What if Luke fancied her, too? Which of course he would since he apparently didn’t go for more than two weeks without a woman and it had been weeks since the supply-room incident. If so, would he lose control and take her up against a door as well? And get her pregnant?

  No freaking way.

  Marisa put her hand up, ignoring Christie’s squeak and Jude’s shocked gasp. Up on stage, Luke’s steely gaze narrowed. The MC said something but Marisa barely heard. Across from her the kids’ show presenter frowned and put in another bid.

  Marisa kept her hand up. No, that woman wasn’t going to get her sticky mitts on Luke. Not if she had anything to do with it. She was carrying his baby, for God’s sake.

  Yet somehow the stupid presenter woman didn’t seem to be picking up on Marisa’s “don’t go there, girl” vibes. She kept on bidding, which meant Marisa kept having to bid over the top of her. The MC made several idiot comments about women fighting over a man that made Marisa want to spit.

  But she was going to win this thing if it killed her.

  “Uh, Mar? Do you have that kind of money?” Christie asked at one stage.

  “Yeah, sure,” she replied, not really taking in what her friend was saying. Because the truth of the matter was that she’d kind of lost track of the bids. Even that this whole auction thing meant shelling out money. Money that she didn’t have. Which made it vitally important she win Luke.

  In fact it wasn’t until the MC banged his gavel and pointed at her and said, “Sold!” that she realized. When he announced the winning amount, she was grateful she was already sitting down.

  So not only had she blown her entire savings, she’d blown all her earnings for the next six months, too. Spent money she did not have on a man she did not want, purely because she was jealous. And pregnant. And obviously crazy-pants.

  “Mar,” Christie was saying urgently. “Do you know what you just did?”

  But Marisa barely heard her. Up on stage Luke shot her a glance loaded with anger and something else she couldn’t define. Then he turned and strode off the stage, a thunderous expression on his face.

  Oh God, this was mad. What had she done?

  “I totally didn’t mean to do that,” she said faintly to everyone within hearing distance.

  Christie caught at her arm but Marisa was suddenly filled with the urgent need to get out. Go find Luke and tell him it was all a terrible mistake. That she’d been in shock the whole evening after peeing on that wretched stick and—

  Marisa pushed her chair back abruptly.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Christie’s voice was filled with concern.

  “The ladies’,” Marisa muttered. “I won’t be a sec.”

  The faces at the tables passed in a blur as she walked toward
the exit. Behind her, music was playing and the MC announced Caleb.

  Marisa kept walking. She had to find Luke. She had to tell him she hadn’t meant to bid on him and didn’t have the money to pay for him.

  Then she’d have to tell him about the baby.

  Nausea churned in her gut, but she pushed it down.

  In the corridor outside the theater, she asked a staff member for directions backstage and he, recognizing her as an auction winner, guided her down another few corridors to the greenroom.

  Luke’s tall figure was the only one in there. He was standing in the middle of the room, his attention on his ubiquitous phone. Then the door shut and he glanced up and saw her.

  And her stomach dropped away, her mouth drying. How the hell was she going to broach this?

  “I’m sorry,” she burst out. “I made a mistake.”

  Luke put his phone into his jacket pocket. “Winning the auction, you mean?”

  “Yeah.” She realized she was twisting the silk purse in her hands and that if she wasn’t careful, the beads would fall off. So she stopped. “I came to tell you that…perhaps you could run the auction again because I…” She faltered. “I can’t pay.”

  Dark brows lowered. “Then why did you bid? You shouldn’t have if you didn’t have the money.”

  “I know, I know. I got...carried away.”

  His gaze didn’t let up, studying her face before continuing down over the little red silk dress she’d wedged herself into. The one that had made her feel sexy and beautiful when she’d first put it on this evening. The one that felt tight and uncomfortable after two pink lines had appeared on that bloody stick.

  And suddenly Luke was striding toward her and she wanted to back away but her legs wouldn’t work. Her mouth opened to protest but by then it was too late. He touched her, an arm around her waist, and she thought he was going to kiss her. Part of her was trembling at the thought.

  But he didn’t. He eased her over into a nearby chair and it wasn’t until she’d sat down that she realized she was on the verge of falling over.

  “You’ve gone pale,” Luke said, examining her as if she was a piece of machinery that wasn’t working properly. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m…fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” He stood in front of her chair, staring narrowly down at her. “You look like you’re in shock.”

  “Well of course I’m in shock, idiot. I paid a ridiculous amount of money for…for you.”

  His frown deepened. “That’s not why you’re pale.”

  Marisa swallowed. There would be no procrastinating around Luke McNamara clearly. “No, it’s not.”

  He folded his arms. “I’m guessing you didn’t get your period after all.”

  “Um…” Marisa felt as if he could see right inside her, like an X-ray. She swallowed again, suddenly unable to speak.

  The lines of his face hardened. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  Chapter Six

  It had been obvious from the moment she’d walked into the greenroom. Marisa Clair, pale and nervous? There could only be one reason. And now the expression on her face confirmed it.

  He should be panicking right about now, or at least be in some kind of intense shock. Especially considering the icy cold that had seeped into his bones when he’d discovered the broken condom. After the possibility that Marisa might be pregnant had almost made him lose it.

  But now that possibility was a reality, it wasn’t panic that surged through him. No, the adrenaline humming through his veins was more like… Actually, he wasn’t sure precisely what it was. It reminded him of those first moments behind the wheel of a new sports car. And the strange combination of fear, anticipation, and satisfaction that would go through him. Fear of the unknown, anticipation of the speed, and the satisfaction of having something he’d always wanted…

  Luke shook away the thoughts. Now was not the time for navel-gazing. Now was the time to be dealing with Marisa’s bombshell.

  She was opening the little purse she held clutched in her hands, fumbling around inside it, then held out a white stick and thrust it at him. “Of course I’m pregnant. Here’s proof if you want it.”

  He didn’t, but he found himself taking the stick anyway, noting the telltale pink lines.

  “Don’t worry. I washed it.” Marisa’s tone was acid, anger lurking in her blue eyes, a flush along her cheekbones. She was in that red silk dress he’d noticed from the stage. The one that hugged her delicious hourglass figure and made him remember things he’d tried hard not to remember for the past four weeks. Difficult when you had a photographic memory.

  Not difficult. Try impossible.

  Excellent, so he was thinking of sex at a time like this. Perfect. Another instance of why keeping away from Marisa Clair was a good idea.

  Luke straightened and put the stick in his back pocket since after that dig he could hardly give it back to her. “I don’t need proof,” he said. “I knew the moment you walked in the door.”

  She pushed herself sharply out of the chair. “Oh great. So the past few hours I’ve spent angsting about how to tell you were all for nothing. I should have displayed my pale self to you earlier and saved myself the worry, not to mention the money.”

  Her hands were gripping her purse hard. The sequins on it sparkled in the light, glittering against her white knuckles. Her eyes were full of anger but beneath it he could sense her shock and panic. And no wonder—a bomb had exploded in their lives.

  Luckily, he was good at taking charge of a situation when everyone else was reeling from the damage. He’d had to do that a lot in his business life, and it was part of the reason his company was so successful. He kept his head, stayed in control.

  “Sit down,” he ordered. “Take a few deep breaths.”

  Marisa blinked. “I’m sorry, but that sounds a lot like you’re telling me to calm down.”

  “I am telling you to calm down. Panicking won’t help.”

  “Panicking?” Marisa’s eyes went wide. “I’m not panicking! I’m ecstatic! Because what’s not to like about my life? I’m pregnant to a cyborg guy I don’t like. Who’s also my boss. Who I spent money I don’t have on in a dumb auction. Money I was going to use to be artist and get a glass studio and take a glass art course and carpe bloody diem! And now you’re going to have to tell me how I can borrow more stupid money so I can pay the stupid charity because I bought stupid you!” She took a heaving breath. “Oh my freaking God! If this is how royally I can screw up my own life, what the hell kind of mum am I going to be? I’ll probably end up like my bloody mother, a failed beauty queen living out her dreams through her children!”

  The flood of words abruptly ended as Marisa took a step back and collapsed onto the chair, covering her face with her hands. She was so small and vulnerable, her shoulders shaking. Which probably meant she was crying.

  The mother of your child. And she’s crying.

  In the normal scheme of things, he helped people out by making logical decisions and taking action, not by giving out comfort. His parents hadn’t been the touchy-feely type and neither was he. But a weird possessiveness had gripped him. Yes, she was his now. His responsibility. And she was hurting. Which meant he had to do something for her.

  Luke moved closer to her and awkwardly patted one shoulder. “There, there.”

  After a second, the shaking stopped and Marisa lifted her head. Her mascara was running, her cheeks were shiny with tears, and her eyes were red-rimmed. Pain shifted inside him, a pain he didn’t understand.

  “Did you pat me?” she demanded.

  From the look on her face perhaps touching her had been wrong. “You were crying,” he said stiffly. “I was trying to offer comfort.”

  “By patting me and saying ‘there, there’?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” He tried to resist the urge to pull at his jacket. “I was only trying to help.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “You’re not very g
ood with people are you, McNamara?”

  It was the truth, but somehow he didn’t much like her pointing that out. “I did tell you that, remember? Numbers are easier to work with, admittedly.”

  “So this baby thing doesn’t bother you at all?”

  “Of course it bothers me.” But not quite in the way he was expecting.

  “It doesn’t seem like it.”

  He couldn’t quite explain his feelings to her because he wasn’t sure of them himself. So all he said was, “Because panicking or getting angry or railing against fate won’t help. Or change the situation.”

  “You were pretty pissed off about the possibility of pregnancy at the time, if I recall.” Her voice deepened into a pretty fair imitation of his own. “‘There will be no children’ is what you said, I think.”

  “I wasn’t pissed off,” he said, uncomfortable with the memory and most especially the part where he’d shoved her up against a door, in an office, and screwed the daylights out of her. “I was merely emphatic. But I fail to see how that’s relevant to what’s happening now.”

  “It’s relevant because you’re acting like a bloody robot and, to be honest, it’s freaking me out.”

  “So you’d prefer me to scream and shout at you? Demand proof that you were taking the Pill? Demand a list of your lovers and a paternity test so I know it’s my baby?”

  She went pale, a flash of something he couldn’t interpret crossing her face. “It’s your baby. And if you demand any of that crap, you’ll get a stiletto somewhere painful.”

  Luke’s jaw tightened. This was not going at all well, and he sensed that his logical explanation as to the reasons why having a paternity test was a good idea would not be received in the spirit in which it was intended. In fact, every word he said only seemed to distress her more, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Despite her sassy, bad-girl exterior, there were little flashes of vulnerability there that always seemed to bring him up short. Bunny panties, for example. The sound of surrender she’d made when he’d pushed inside her. The way she’d melted in his arms as if she’d been waiting for him for years and now he was finally here…