Jill Shalvis - Aussie Rules

“There you are,” she said with a bright smile. “We were just, um, having a discussion.”

In fact, all gazes had swiveled to the “part” they’d been discussing-his crotch.

“G’day,” Bo said, keeping his gaze level on Mel. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, uh, we’re in the middle of a staff meeting. An important staff meeting.”

Rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets, he shot her a smile that wasn’t quite friendly. “And in these staff meetings you always discuss the size of your ex-boyfriends d-”

“We were just warming up with some watercooler talk,” Mel said quickly. “Harmless tradition. Anyway, no one but staff allowed, so you should probably…” She waggled her fingers to suggest he scoot along. “You don’t mind, do you?”

His eyes said that he did, very much, and in them was also a promised retribution, making her wonder at the stupidity of baiting him.

“How about this,” he said calmly. “You give me a minute of your time, or we talk in public, right here at your staff meeting.”

Damn it. He’d do it, too. “I suppose I can give you a minute.” She purposely looked at her watch, sighed, then headed through the lobby toward her office.

Bo followed, of course. She could feel his gaze watching her every move. It wasn’t often that she thought about being feminine, and it sure as hell wasn’t often she wondered if she passed muster, so the normally unconscious movement of walking across the room suddenly became awkward. She felt exceedingly aware that her hair was wild, that she’d thrown on coveralls with little to no concern that they made her look like a short box, that her radio and cell clanked together loudly…

Completely unaware of-or ignoring-her discomfort, Bo leaned in ahead of her and pushed open her office door.

The unexpected gesture of chivalry caught her by surprise, and she tripped over her own two feet as she looked up into his enigmatic gaze.

“In,” he said, lending his hands to the cause, pushing her into her office, not exactly gently, negating the chivalrous gesture he’d just made. He shut the door, then turned to face her as he rolled up his sleeves. “Now,” he said, and locked the door, the sound of it clicking into place, making her pulse skip.

“Uh, there’s really no need to lock it,” she said.

“Right. So your band of merry men can barge in here to save you when you start screaming. No, thank you.”

She reached behind her to grip the desk as she leaned back in a false show of calm and relaxation. Her fingers touched her metal envelope opener and, in reflex, closed over it. “Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, why would you stand around the watercooler discussing the size of your ex’s dick?”

“You’re not my ex.”

“Ah, but you let them think I was. Which means they all think that we’ve had wild, screaming sex.”

“But we haven’t.”

“No.” He smiled, and it wasn’t a nice one. “But we’re going to.”

Her knees wobbled, and it wasn’t exactly in fear. In spite of herself, she craned her neck and eyed the neat desk behind her, picturing him shoving her phone and blotter to the floor, pushing her onto the flat surface, then stepping between her legs to take her fast and hard and well. She cleared her throat. “I am not having sex with you just to make my story of you being my ex real.”

“How about to prove I don’t have a teeny, tiny-”

“Yeah, about that.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, it just popped out of my mouth.”

“You’re not sorry.”

“Okay, not so much, no.”

He looked exasperated. “Why didn’t you tell them why I’m really here? Waiting to talk to Sally?”

Wasn’t that just the question of the day? “Because…” Because it would hurt them to know she’d let them believe they were secure when they weren’t. Because she’d have to watch them wonder whether Sally had really done the things Bo said she’d done. “Because…”

“Because you’re a liar,” he said softly, and took a step toward her. “Because you’ve been lying to them for a long time, haven’t you?”

Another step, and she felt the hard wood of the desk at her hips, and the harder body of Bo Black at her front. The cool steel of the letter opener remained a comforting weight in her palm.

“Because you know if you admit it,” he said, “they’ll stop thinking the sun rises and falls on your shoulders.”

No. She shook her head in denial of that. Having them admire and look up to her was absolutely not why she ran this place for Sally.

She did it because the place was home, the only real home she’d ever had.

Well, okay, on second thought, damn it, yes, and because they looked up to her and admired her. It gave her a sense of worth. Was that really such a crime? Could he really not understand at all?

Of course he couldn’t. He was confident to the point of complete obnoxiousness. He didn’t care what people thought of him, it would never even occur to him to wonder. He’d probably never doubted himself, not once.

“What’s going on in here, Mel?” he asked, gently tapping her temple. “You’ve left me. To think about what else you’re hiding?”

Hard to think, much less talk, with his body so close to hers, and she resented that he probably knew it. “You didn’t by any chance e-mail me the other day, did you?”

His eyes narrowed. “No. Why?”

“Just…wondering.”

“You get a strange e-mail?”

No, just a threatening one.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. His eyes darkened. “Stubborn to a beautiful fault. That’s okay, I’ll figure it out.” Caging her in by putting a hand on either side of her hips, he shifted closer still, forcing her to tip her head back to keep looking into his eyes. “You could just tell me and save us both a lot of time and frustration.”

She tightened her mouth, making him laugh. “No worries, mate. So…back to ex-lovers?”

She licked her lips nervously. “It’s not so unreasonable a story. It’s obvious we’re on edge around each other. We…had a falling out. It was for the best, with you being an ass and all.”

He ran the pad of his finger over the base of her throat, and something warm and delicious and utterly dangerous slid into her belly. If I’m so off-putting,” he murmured, “you’re going to want to work on this, then.”

“On what?”

Again a swipe of his thumb over her wild pulse. “On how bad you want me.”

She slapped his hand away but in a lightning-quick move, he snagged her wrist, and then her other, the one that held the letter opener. He eyed the steel point with curious amusement, then squeezed until it clattered from her fingers to the floor. “You might want to work on that, too. That temper you clearly have smoldering for me.” He tsked. “Dead giveaway on that wanting-me-bad thing.”

“You are delusional.”

“Why?” His gaze met hers. “Are you taken?”

“Taken?”

“Committed.”

“No. Not committed.” Not that she had anything against the idea in theory, but though she’d had lovers here and there over the years, she’d always discovered some fatal flaw and broken things off before anything too serious began. Char called the phenomenon the Anderson Chronicles. Dimi called it pathetic.

Closing the gap between them, Bo pressed his body to hers. Her nipples had gone hard at the beginning of this little discussion, and now they bore into his chest. Could he feel them? She thought maybe by the look on his face that he could.

“So you don’t want me,” he said a little hoarsely. “Not even a little.”

She had to clear her throat to talk. “Not even a little.”

“Prove it,” he whispered, lowering his head so that their mouths were only a fraction apart.