Page 22 of Start With A Slap

She gasped. “I don’t have ‘Daddy issues!’”

“No?” Hands in pockets, he walked toward her as he recounted the facts. “Dear old Dad, noble lawyer for the rank and file, fucks off with hot young paralegal, starts a whole new family cross country, doesn’t call, doesn’t write, doesn’t bother to attend your mum’s funeral... Thenyoubecome a paralegal and marry a noble lawyer for the rank and file. No issues at all?”

She imagined the thickTyler, Ivydossier he’d ordered up and creepily memorized. “They keep attendance records from funerals?”

Seriously invading her personal bubble, he shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

Ivy couldn’t move. Somehow in the midst of all this, he’d backed her into a corner and flattened his palms on the walls at either side of her head, caging her in. He leaned forward, and all she could do was turn her face.

But then he pressed his cheek against hers and said, “Sweet little Ivy. Don’t you know you’re the only one Daddy ever wanted?”

Oh, god...

No, gross!

Sever stepped back, smug. “See?That’sthe mindfuck that would work on you like a charm. But I wouldn’t do that, because I’m not crass, and I don’t cheat.” He went back to his desk, opened a drawer. “Hard work’s what yields the superior result.”

Knees wobbly, she tried to walk and speak like she was completely unaffected. “Says the man whose fireplace starts with the push of a button.”

Sniffing a cigar, he raised a brow and said, “Touché,mon chaton.”

“I’m not your French kitten. And I hate cigars,” she blurted for no good reason.

He smiled to himself, put it away. “Right then. Get everything off your chest for the night? If not, you can pull upa chair and spout out with it whenever a new objection pops to mind.”

With a defeated sigh, she said, “I’m done.”

“Feel better?”

“Actually, I feel kind of sick.”

“You look beautiful.”

She shut her eyes. “Stop.”

“I like the lip gloss. Freshen it up in the car?”

Glaring at him, she said, “It’s all-day shine.” And that was a lie. Whydidshe freshen it up in the car?

He sat back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head. “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

“I’d probably throw up a little,” she said, getting her groove back via levity. “Then I’d kick you in the shins. And then I’d have to disinfect with Lysol, because really, who knows where those lips have been?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret. I haven’t kissed a woman in about...” he mused for a moment, “seven, eight years.”

She covered her surprise with a glib, “So, just men?”

He twitched a brow at her. “Not since boarding school.”

A short burst of laughter escaped from her nose.

“Did I just make you smile, Ivy Tyler?”

Rubbing her freshly glossed lips together, she forced herself expressionless. “You’re right. I should have called. I’m gonna go.”

“Stay. Have dinner with me.”

“No, Sever. I can’t have dinner with you. This... has to stop.”

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