Page 55 of The Ice Queen in the Corner Office

“You’re afraid of scary movies,” she said, her voice light with barely repressed laughter.

I shook my head, my mouth full. I’d been a bad kid, but I’d put that behind me. I might be cocky and full of shit, but I was straight-edge as hell and I hated to lie. A head shake wasn’t a lie, not really.

Her smile widened. “I think you’re going to have to prove you aren’t afraid. Watch a scary movie with me.”

“Okay,” I said, with every intention of using sex to make her forget all about the idea.

She shoveled in some more food. “Did you ever play those stupid games? My brothers and sisters still play them sometimes, but I always hated them.”

“What games?”

“You know, like truth or dare, or never have I ever.”

I’d always hated those games, too. “Yeah, not a part of my youth I ever want to revisit.”

She sighed. “I can almost picture you as a teenager. I bet you were a preppy rich kid, going to some expensive school where you played every sport you could and charmed all the teachers.”

Damn. Jill was smart, but she was shit at reading people. “And you,” I said. “I bet you dressed well even when you were poor as dirt. You probably aced every class and had only one or two friends, but I bet every guy wanted to get in your pants.”

“Wrong on all counts. I only aced math. The other classes, I had to work hard for my grades. I wore whatever was cheap and easy to clean, and there wasn’t a single guy who was interested in me.”

I shook my head. Shit at reading people.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked.

I stared at her. “Why do you want to know that?”

“I’m trying to get to know you better, isn’t that what you wanted?”

It had been what I’d told her I wanted. Except I’d wanted to get to know her, not the other way around. “I don’t have a favorite color.”

She sighed. “Everyone has a favorite color.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s yours?”

“Blue. The color of the sky on a bright, sunny day.”

“How poetic.” I’d honestly never considered what my favorite color was, and it would be beyond cheesy to say it was the color of her eyes. “Favorite food?”

She grinned, inexplicably happy that I was playing along. “You know my favorite restaurant, of course, but my all-time favorite food is the stuffing my mother makes for Thanksgiving. Lots of veggies and whole wheat bread crumbs.” She rubbed her bare belly and her expression was so unguarded, so comfortable, that something in me relaxed.

“Sounds good,” I said. “Think she’ll make it while you’re here?”

Her smile slipped just a bit. “Favorite movie?”

“The Godfather.”

She widened her eyes in disbelief. “Really?”

“You think I’d lie about my favorite movie?”

“I just thought it would be something more fun. Like The Hangover.”

“Since I’m all about the fun?” I asked, winking at her like her opinion of me didn’t sting. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“The Hunger Games. I like a woman who can kick ass.”

“Favorite kind of music?”

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