Page 17 of Dr. Bad Boy

“Gareth made me chocolate chip cookies. Come over and save me from myself.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I expected tears, you know.”

I hesitate. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

I hang up without answering him.

Max just looks at me. “Complicated death plans?” He hands over a paper plate and I find myself taking it. “Who was that?”

I sigh. “None of your business.”

His eyes flash for a second before he glances away, looking at the food. “I’m starving.” My stomach growls in agreement, and he nods, but he still doesn’t look at me. “You are too. Dig in.”

I’m reaching for the bread even as I try to argue. “We need to talk about work.”

“I’d rather talk about the amazing, not-a-mistake sex we had, but fine. Let’s discuss my corporation while you eat.”

I think he’s just playing me, but since I’m going to bill him for every second I can, I give him a full briefing. He surprises me by actually paying attention and asking smart questions. After I devour my first piece of bread and some cheese, I grab a legal pad and start making notes. Eventually I relax and lean back in my chair, crossing my legs, and my high heel slips off. It skitters across the floor and Max picks it up.

For a second, I think he might try and put it back on my foot, and my breath stops in my chest, but he just sets it on the floor near enough for me to slide it back on.

And then he asks me about filing fees, and we’re back on track.

It’s not quite a comfortable conversation, but it’s professional and that’s what I asked of him.

But it only lasts so long, because frankly, his business isn’t that complicated and we’ve only just begun the work we’re going to do. I can’t in good conscience stretch the work talk longer than the length of time it takes us to eat. And Max is completely aware of that.

He packs away the leftovers, then rolls his lower lip between his teeth. I’m annoyingly captivated by the way his beard frames that mouth. I wonder what it would feel like against my skin.

He gives me a firm look. “Now we talk about what I want to talk about.”

Oh no. I shake my head. “We can’t.”

“We have to.”

“Why?” The tension climbs up between my shoulder blades again and I cross my arms once more. “What good will it do?”

“I want another night.”

“Red.” The safeword bursts out of my mouth before I’m even conscious of having thought it.

It stops him, though. He nods, acknowledging what I’ve just said. But his glower says we aren’t quite done yet. “This isn’t a scene.”

I throw my hands in the air. “I know that. But it’s my life, and you’re stomping all over it, so fucking take a hint, Max.Red.”

He leans back in his chair, his lips pulled tight, but he stops talking. My heart is pounding in my chest, a mile a minute. Yes, that was the best night of my life. Yes, I can’t stop thinking about it.

But this is my career we’re talking about.

I’ll throw down whatever I have to in order to maintain some healthy boundaries and create distance between us.

Even if it hurts.

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