Page 27 of Some Like It Deadly
“Richard.” She tilted her head and her voice took on that coaxing note, the one she used to manage him so well in the office. “I’m fine. It’s a scratch. No bone damage, nothing a couple of stitches and a big Band-Aid couldn’t fix.”
“As soon as they discharge you, I’ll take you back to my place for a couple of days. You can rest.” He gave in to one urge and tucked some loose strands of her hair behind her ear.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“I don’t care. You shouldn’t be driving.” He walked right over her objections. “I have a huge house, plenty of guest rooms, and an excellent security system. We can get some work done, if you insist.”
“I have an apartment.” She frowned at him.
“I don’t care.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. She was okay.
It might take him a little while to really believe it, though.
“Richard, it’s a bad idea.” And he didn’t wonder what she meant.
“Do you remember what I said about no harm, no foul?” This close he could count the flecks of gold in her eyes.
“Yes. We work together and it would be inappropriate.” Her nostrils flared and her gaze never left his. She was as aware of him as he was of her.
“I changed my mind.” And he leaned in closer, nose barely brushing hers. He kept his actions slow and deliberate. If she wanted to push him away, he’d go. Her soft sigh brushed his cheek and he smiled—he knew capitulation when he heard it and closed the remaining distance to press his lips to hers.
He’d meant to only sample her lips, a sweet, chaste kiss—a promise for later. She’d been shot. But the electric contact lit a chemical reaction and, when her mouth parted beneath his, he deepened the kiss, seeking and gaining entry with his tongue. Her palm came into contact with his chest, but instead of pushing him away, she curled her fingers into his shirt and dragged him closer. Then her tongue dueled furiously with his.
The world fell away and lust rushed in to fill all the places heated by his anger. He gripped the bed to keep from exploringher curves. With regret, he broke the kiss slowly and was pleased to find her breathing as ragged as his own. “We have a problem,” he told her, but he didn’t care one whit.
“I think so.” She swallowed and her gaze clashed with his. Red flushed her cheeks and her eyes were bright. “It goes against all the rules.”
“You know what I’ve learned over the years?” He traced the slick line of her mouth with his gaze.
“What?”
“When the rules don’t work, change them.” His heart jackhammered against his ribs, but he narrowed the divide between them, then whispered. “Are you willing to negotiate a rule change with me?”
She bit her lower lip and the innocence in the action stabbed at him. This self-possessed, composed, wildly competent and intelligent woman bit her lip like a girl far less sure of her confidence. Stunned by her reaction, he eased back. Her lashes swept down and then up again. “This is dangerous territory.”
Understanding her reluctance and caution, he nodded. He’d shared it, and whether it was the security detail following him, the gunshots fired at them, seeing the blood trickling down her arm or some leftover unresolved remnant from his near fatal car crash a few months before, Richard didn’t want to keep playing it safe.
Not anymore.
“So was creek dogging,” he pointed out.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “Are you warning me that kissing you will be a lot like creek dogging?”
“Doing insanely foolish things for the thrill of it?” he replied, and kissed the sassy corner of her mouth. “Hell yes.”
Interestingly enough,she refused to argue with him while Armand’s security drove them to her apartment until they were both inside and their escort outside. “This is ridiculous.” She touched the sling on her arm. “It’s a scratch. I can stay here and be in the office first thing Monday morning—or even tomorrow morning.”
“No.” He disagreed and found it extremely easy to tell her so. Glancing around her apartment was enlightening and he fought the urge to explore. It was small, but comfortable. The two-bedroom was in a twenty story building just fifteen minutes from his office. He wanted to kick himself for how often they ended the work day more than an hour away from her apartment, yet she’d never complained. “You want me to go pack for you?”
“Richard, I don’t need to come and stay at your house. It’s a thoughtful offer, but I’m good. Really.” She set her purse down on the white oak, Queen Anne table. The number of dings and scratches in the wood cried out it was an old family piece and likely hauled for sentimental value. It matched nothing else in the room full of muted earth tones brightened by jewel tone accents and neat, orderly simplicity. A Kindle sat on the arm of the sofa, and books were scattered on the shelves. His palms itched to go and see what types of books she liked to read. He had the ridiculous urge to know everything about her.
“You’ve still got the adrenaline going from the attack and probably a little bit of shock—not to mention the local anesthetic they used before they stitched you up. Tomorrow will be more uncomfortable. At my place, I can look after you, make sure you take your meds and you can sit and soak up the sun. It’s a win-win.” He sidled over to her and grinned. “Turnabout’s fair play. You’ve been looking after me since your first day in the office and I know you weren’t fooled about how tired I was.”
“That’s different,” she argued. Instead of going toward her bedroom, she headed for her tiny kitchen. Despite the slender length of it, a large window filled the space with light. Popping the fridge open, she extracted a bottle of water.
Richard reached over and unscrewed the top for her. “No, it’s not. The only difference is you didn’t know me, you walked into a hellacious job and you didn’t complain—not once—about the amount of work it took to catch me back up. In the office at seven and not out again until ten or eleven at night. I don’t think you’ve had a day off since you started.”
“But I got to watch you play golf and eviscerate a douchebag.” She grinned and took a drink of her water. He’d acted purely on impulse the day he’d picked her up for that game. She hadn’t needed to be there, but she’d tagged along and walked the entire course, standing in the sun and been pawed by the “actor” brother-in-law. No, he hadn’t needed her there. He’dwantedher there.
