Her Secret Affair

He tossed the papers aside. “Do it.”

She seemed surprised. “Just like that? No quibbling over details?”

“We’ve been at least a week longer at this than I would have liked,” he drawled meaningfully.

She immediately bounced up to her feet and began stuffing the papers into the briefcase. “Fine. We’ll be here tomorrow.”

He recognized a bolt when he saw it and sat forward abruptly, clamping a hand around her wrist. “Sit down.”

He meant it as an order, and she took it that way, slowly sinking down into her chair, the briefcase balanced on the corner of his desk.

“I fail to see what else we have to talk about,” she said crisply, her gaze targeted on her lap.

He almost laughed at that. Instead, he got up and walked around his chair to the end of the desk. He parked himself on the corner and folded his arms, intending to be firm. “You know perfectly well what we have to talk about.”

She said nothing.

“I’m not going to let you pretend it didn’t happen,” he told her patiently. She lifted her chin, neither answering him nor looking at him. He sighed and leaned forward, spelling it out. “We kissed. We were interrupted. You ran, and now you’re avoiding me. I want to know why.” She looked down but didn’t say a word. He straightened and folded his arms again, insisting, “It wasn’t because you didn’t enjoy it. That much I do know.”

Finally a response. She glared at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you were as heated up as I was.” She looked away again. “You liked it as much as I did,” he insisted doggedly. “So what is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” she said with a shrug. “I just prefer not to repeat the experience.”

“Why?”

“Why should I?”

He chuckled mirthlessly at that. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I melted your underwear.” She shot him an affronted look. “Mine was smoking, too,” he assured her bluntly, noting the flare of satisfaction in her eyes, “which adds up to plenty of reason to repeat the experience as far as I’m concerned.”

“It means just the opposite to me,” she said, smoothing her hands down the narrow wood arms of the chair, “because I never get involved with clients.”

“Until now,” he corrected coaxingly.

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she snapped.

He went down on his haunches beside her chair. “Is it someone else? Are you involved with someone else?”

She bit her lip, looked down, then admitted, “No.”

“So it’s strictly a business decision?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’ll have to cancel your contract.”

She immediately launched to her feet. “You can’t do that!”

He rose smoothly and brought his hands to his hips. “The contract that cannot be broken has never been devised.”

“I’ll sue you!”

“Before or after we make love?” he returned smoothly.

She glared at him and folded her arms. “I do not indulge in casual affairs.”

“Good, because this is a long way from a casual attraction.”

“I’m certainly not interested in anything serious, either!”

“Look,” he said bluntly, a little desperate now, “I’m not rushing you to the altar, I’m just trying to get you into bed!”

She went immediately frosty. “I don’t sleep around.”

“I don’t want you to sleep around,” he retorted. “I want you to sleep with me!”

She grabbed up her briefcase and began stuffing renderings into it. “That’s not going to happen.”

He leaned close and said softly into her ear, “No? You really have no inclination to explore this thing between us, this incredible attraction?”

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