Talking Dirty With the Boss (Talking Dirty#3)

by Jackie Ashenden

  The sounds from the busy pub, full of the evening crowd, seemed suddenly loud.

  Caleb Steele, ex-All Black and one of Luke’s oldest and best friends—and apart from Joseph, his only friend—raised his eyebrows in surprise. Understandable really, since they were here to talk about Caleb’s skills auction, not about women.

  “Marisa?” his friend said. “Uh, apart from the fact that she’s hot?”

  “So nothing then.”

  “Hey, I didn’t say that.” Caleb leaned his muscular frame back in his seat, brown eyes assessing. “Why d’you want to know? Got an interest there, mate?”

  Luke didn’t. At all. Two weeks after their supply room interlude and he’d—thank God—managed to get back to his normal routine without her screwing around with his concentration. Kind of. Mostly.

  Except when odd things would remind him of the touch of her skin. Or her hair. Or the tight clasp of her body when he was inside—

  “No,” he said firmly. “I don’t.”

  “So what’s with the question?”

  Luke tried to think of a good reason. “I had a…run-in with her at work.”

  “At work? But isn’t she at that magazine of Christie’s?”

  “I own the magazine now.”

  “Oh, that’s right, so you do. So when you say ‘run-in’ you mean… What?”

  “She was using company e-mail for something other than work.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes. “Christ, uptight much?”

  Luke didn’t bother with defensiveness or justification. He didn’t do either these days, as he didn’t bother apologizing for the way he was. He had control of his life and his work in spite of his condition, and that was the way he preferred it.

  “You should have seen the e-mail,” Luke said. “It wasn’t appropriate.”

  Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh really? Why? Rude pictures? Dirty jokes?”

  Luke shifted on his chair. The mere thought of that e-mail should not be making him so uncomfortable. It really shouldn’t.

  “That’s not important,” Luke said tersely. “I had to call her into my office to give her a warning about it.”

  “Whoa, it sounds pretty bloody important if you had to get heavy with her.” His friend leaned forward. “C’mon mate, tell me all about this e-mail.”

  But he didn’t want to share what was in the e-mail. Or in fact anything about their relationship.

  What relationship?

  Yes, exactly. They’d had sex once and that was all the relationship they had.

  “No,” Luke said. “If you don’t know anything just say so.”

  “I don’t know anything.” Caleb raised a finger. “But she’s hot.”

  Hot. Yes, that was true enough. His thoughts drifted again. To the attraction that had ignited between them when he’d kissed her. Intense and vital. So strong…

  “Mate, you’re zoning,” Caleb said. “I need to talk to you about this auction...”

  But the rest of Caleb’s statement kind of faded away as the pub door opened and a group of people walked in, only one of whom he’d expected to see. Joseph, freshly arrived back from his honeymoon, yes. Marisa, currently arm-in-arm with Christie, no. Not under any circumstances.

  He found himself pulling at his jacket again, his fingers searching restlessly for something to straighten as Marisa’s gaze met his. She paled and her jaw tightened, but then she lifted her chin and approached the table where he and Cal were sitting with no apparent hesitation.

  She wore skinny jeans with a wraparound kind of shirt in a silky purple fabric, her golden hair lose all down her back. And despite the fact that he hadn’t seen her for two weeks, that he’d thought that furtive interlude in the office was the end of it, electricity whispered over his skin.

  Bloody. Bastard. Hell. And balls, for good measure.

  He surged to his feet, not realizing what he was doing until it was too late. Until everyone was staring at him. “I’ll get the drinks,” he said curtly. Without waiting for a response, he turned and started heading for the bar.

  Coward.

  No, he wasn’t being a coward. He needed to get the drinks. And give himself a moment to get back in control, try to figure out why the chemistry between him and Marisa Clair continued to burn, because it shouldn’t. As with any of his compulsions, once he’d satisfied the urge, it faded. So why the need for Marisa should still be there, and still be strong, he had no idea.

  He didn’t want her in his head, messing up his schedules. He didn’t want her around at all.

  …

  Marisa sat in her chair and tried not to pay any attention to Luke. A bit difficult with his silver eyes staring at her with uncomfortable intensity from over the table.

  How bloody typical that he should be here. She and Christie were supposed to be having a girls’ evening, the first one since Christie’s return from honeymoon. But then Chris had decided to invite Joseph because apparently they were surgically attached at the hip. Joseph who was on his way to meeting up with Caleb and—ugh—Luke.

  Viewing it as a test made it more bearable. They had to get along in a social context after all, and that first meeting was always going to be awkward.

  She hadn’t quite realized quite how awkward it was going to be until she’d laid eyes on him. Sitting at the table, all dark and scowly and broody and hot. In a suit—she was sure when he took off his suit at night, there was another one underneath it—with his tie knotted tight and his shirt all buttoned up. Making her want to…

  Ahem. Straight and narrow. No more hot lusty-pants. Carpe diem, et cetera.

  “Oooh,” Christie said to Joseph as some loud, thrashy song came on over the jukebox. “Come on, husband. I wanna dance.”

  Much to Marisa’s annoyance, Christie dragged Joseph up from the table to have a jump around on the dance floor. And then, to make matters worse, Caleb got a phone call, which entailed him having to leave the pub for somewhere quieter. Which left her and Luke sitting at the table by themselves.

  So awkward.

  Silence reigned for what was probably a millennium. Marisa busied herself with her phone, checking for any texts she hadn’t replied to. Refreshing her e-mail in-box. Having another game of Angry Birds.

  “So,” Luke said stiffly. “How are things?”

  She decided that staring at him would be a bad idea, keeping her eyes on the screen and firing a big red bird at a particularly smug-looking pig. “Things are just dandy.”

  Another silence.

  Luke cleared his throat. “And you’re keeping well?”

  Keeping well? Seriously? She risked a glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Hmmm. Has that stick up your butt gotten longer in the past two weeks by any chance?”

  He scowled at her. “I’m trying to be polite.”

  Well, actually, he was. And kudos to him. He wouldn’t be liking this situation any more than she was. “Yes,” she said, making an effort. “I’m keeping well. Thank you for asking.”

  Luke adjusted the coaster underneath his beer glass. “And…ah…nothing’s changed?”

  “What do you mean, nothing’s changed?”

  He shifted around in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Since we…met.”

  Oh boy. If he hadn’t been so bloody annoying, his discomfort would have been rather adorable. Endearing even. And she couldn’t resist a small tweak. “Since we screwed up against the door in my office’s stationery supply room? You mean that?”

  His jaw had gone tight. “Yes.”

  Marisa turned off her game and gave him her full attention. “And I presume you’re talking about the state of my menstrual cycle?”

  “Yes.” The word was clipped.

  She gave him a smile that she hoped was sickly sweet. “Ah, well, in that case you’ll be pleased to know that the state of my uterus is at present unoccupied.”

  Dull color stained his cheekbones. Oh, she was bad. So bad. But then he’d made her feel ten inches tall two weeks ago. Turnabout was a
bitch.

  “I meant what I said, you know,” he said flatly. “I’ll support you in whatever—”

  “Hey, I know what you said. I was there, remember?”

  Luke held her gaze, unnervingly focused. “I do remember. I remember every single second.”

  And for a moment the memory of those burning, intense moments pulsed between them, pulling at them like a compass needle toward magnetic north.

  Desire spread lazy wings inside her.

  Don’t go there, girl. You’re supposed to be good now.

  Marisa wrenched her gaze away, heat prickling all over her skin. “You really need to stop looking at me. It’s not helping.”

  Another taut silence.

  “I thought it would have gone by now,” he murmured.

  She didn’t need to ask what he was talking about. “Yeah, me too.”

  Neither of them said anything.

  Luke got to his feet. “I’ll go. I think that’s best.”

  Yes. Yes it was. So why was she…disappointed? “Okay, then,” she said. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  “Keep me posted, won’t you?”

  “About what?”

  Luke paused, looked her in the eye. “About the state of your uterus, what else?”

  She blinked at him, momentarily disconcerted. Dear God, was Mr. Uptight actually making a joke? She nearly smiled. “Touché. And sure. If you want uterus updates, you got it.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Not every day, you understand?”

  Marisa almost pulled a face. Damn the man. How had he guessed the naughty little thought that had crossed her mind? “Fine. Once a week, then?”

  “No, just inform me when…” He hesitated.

  “When I’m surfing the red wave?”

  His mouth tightened. “When you get your period, I was going to say.”

  This time she did smile, sitting back in her chair and giving him a little clap. “Well done. You said the P-word.” Would he blush again? She hoped so.

  But he didn’t. “I don’t find it embarrassing. I was only trying to spare you.”

  How…charming of him. “Well, that’s sweet of you, but don’t bother. I don’t embarrass easily.”

  Luke glared. Not moving an inch.

  Oh, Lord, what was it now? “I thought you were going.”

  “I am.” Another pause. “Shall I see you at this auction thing of Caleb’s?”

  “What? You want a uterus update there, too?”

  He stood so tall and stiff. Like a plank of wood. “If you haven’t had your period by then, yes, I wouldn’t mind.”

  Marisa sighed. “Sure.”

  “Good.” Luke turned toward the pub doors. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  And oddly enough, for the merest second, Marisa almost found herself looking forward to it, too.

  ***

  Marisa dropped the pregnancy test kit on top of her bathroom vanity and stared at it as if it was a bomb about to go off.

  She had fifteen minutes before Christie and Joseph picked her up to take her to Caleb’s bachelor auction. Which gave her plenty of time to take this wretched test.

  If she wanted to, of course. Because she didn’t have to since she wasn’t pregnant.

  Definitely, absolutely not pregnant.

  Stupid period was late, that’s all it was. Nothing more.

  The lateness of the period had meant Luke sending her an e-mail the day before, asking her whether she was okay and whether anything had changed. Which had only drawn attention to the lack of period that was usually as regular as clockwork. She’d told him—tersely, it had to be said—that it would probably come tomorrow.

  But now it was tomorrow and her period still hadn’t come. And that meant she really needed to check, to make extra, doubly, positively certain she wasn’t pregnant.

  So she could tell Luke he had nothing to worry about and neither did she. Then they’d be able to close the door on this stupid, embarrassing physical infatuation with each other.

  Which she would not be sad about. At all.

  She swallowed and picked up the test. Great. Peeing on a stick. Could her evening get any better?

  It didn’t take long. Unfortunately. And ten minutes later, she found herself staring at the double pink lines that indicated how misplaced her attitude to the whole condom breaking episode had been.

  Pregnant. Definitely, absolutely freaking pregnant.

  Marisa sat down on the side of the bath, her knees weak with shock, her fingers icy cold.

  Shit. And damn. And hell. And all the other bloody swear words in the history of creation.

  First peeing on a stick, then pregnancy. There were no words to encompass how awesome this evening was. None at all.

  And she couldn’t even combat the shock with a healthy glass of wine. Or escape to a club. Shopping for pretty dresses was now way off the agenda, and going to late-night parties would soon become the stuff of legend.

  Not that she’d been doing so much of that lately since she’d been in good-girl mode. Saving her butt off in preparation for clearing her credit card debt and bank loans. She hadn’t gone shopping or out partying. She’d been staying home and scouring the web for art classes instead. Planning her new, long-put-off career as an artist…

  A career that she would have to put on hold yet again.

  WTG, girl. So much for seizing the day.

  A buzz came from the vanity where she’d left her little red silk evening purse. Pushing back the wall of panic hell-bent on crashing down over the top her, Marisa got up and took her phone out of the purse. There was a text from Christie on the screen.

  Dude, we’re outside. Get your butt down here.

  Oh crap. Now she was going to have go out and see people. Interact as though nothing had happened. Because she couldn’t tell anyone. What would she say, anyway?

  “Hey, did you know I banged the boss and the condom broke and now I’m pregnant? Funny, huh?”

  Marisa put a hand over her eyes, overwhelmed for a second.

  You stupid idiot. You can’t tell anyone. Not yet, at least.

  But she’d have to tell Luke, wouldn’t she? And she’d have to tell him tonight.

  The cold grip of fear tightened long fingers around her heart as her phone buzzed again. Probably another text from Christie wondering where she was.

  Her hand dropped. No, she couldn’t give in to the panic or the fear. She had to pull herself together and deal with this….somehow.

  Like telling Luke?

  Marisa let out a breath, then picked up the pregnancy test stick and put it in her purse.

  Yeah. Like telling Luke.

  Half an hour later, Christie glanced at the full glass of wine in front of Marisa, and gave her a concerned frown. “Are you okay, Mar?”

  Marisa stopped fiddling with her napkin and glanced at Christie, who was sitting beside her. “Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  The old art deco cinema was buzzing with the noise of the crowd, all here for Caleb’s fund-raising auction. Lots of couture and tuxes, famous faces and diamonds, the hum of conversation almost overwhelming the background music that was playing.

  The first lot of people and their skills had been auctioned off already—Joseph and his six-month mentorship included—and now they were all waiting for the second half to start.

  The second half that included Caleb.

  And Luke.

  Marisa made a reflexive grab toward her wineglass as panic threatened again, only stopping herself at the last second. She’d tried to find him to talk to him about the pregnancy as soon as she’d gotten to the theater, but by the time they’d arrived, all the bachelors and bachelorettes being auctioned had already been taken backstage. She was going to have to find him after the auction had finished.

  Christie noticed the move and gave the wineglass a meaningful glance. “Hmmm. Well, your glass is full for a start. Which isn’t like you.”

  “I don’t feel like wine tonight.”

&nbs
p; Her best friend’s brows lowered. “Hey, you’re not okay, are you?”

  “Why? Because I don’t want some wine?”

  “It’s not just the wine. You seem a little pale, too.”

  Marisa bit back the snappish words that threatened to spill out. Because it wasn’t Christie’s fault that this had happened. Oh no, it was all hers. Hers and Luke’s. Instead she said, “I’m fine, St. John. Really.” Purposefully using Christie’s maiden name—Marisa’s old nickname for her friend—to show her how fine she was.

  “Mar.”

  “I thought we’d agreed you’d always be St. John to me?” They’d both decided, after Christie had married Joseph and dropped the St. John, that “Ashton” didn’t quite have the same ring to it.

  “Sure. When you tell me the truth about what’s going on with you.”

  Marisa fiddled with her napkin again. “Y’know, I’m not liking this more assertive side to you.”

  “Hey, I learned from a master.” Christie grinned. “Aka you.”

  Kind of made sense now why Christie had always been so peeved at her whenever Marisa had tried to extract Joseph gossip, back when her friend and the tech billionaire had first hooked up. Now Marisa knew what it was like to be poked and prodded like a shellfish being opened with a knife. Hideous.

  She reached for the wineglass again, then quickly made a grab for her water instead. Had Christie noticed the second slip? But a glance at her friend showed her that Christie’s attention had skipped her and was now on her sister-in-law, Judith, who’d taken the seat on Marisa’s other side. Jude was rather pale, her blue eyes shadowed underneath her black bangs.

  After Joseph and Christie’s wedding, Marisa had had a night out with her, drinking wine, eating takeout, and dissing men. Then they’d both gone to a club and spent the night dancing and getting drunk. A good time was had by all, in other words.

  But Jude didn’t appear happy now, and although Marisa didn’t know the details, that girls’ night out had told her enough to be sure her current pallor had something to do with Caleb.

  Boy, did men suck.

  Marisa raised the water glass to her mouth and took a drink as the music started to play and the lights dimmed, signaling the second half of the auction getting under way.

  The MC came on and gave another little spiel about the charity, then ramped up the patter about the skills/people who were about to be auctioned off tonight.