Back In The Bedroom (The Wrong Bed #29)(23)

When the doors opened on the fifth floor at his offices, he looked at her.

She looked right back.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“I don’t think so.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as if she was giving him a headache.

Because as he deserved it, she had no sympathy whatsoever.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because you don’t want me to work for you.”

“I do so.”

She laughed.

“Okay,” he said. “So I didn’t at first.”

“Really.” She crossed her arms, too. “What changed your mind?”

“Look, I’m a little off in the mornings.”

“You’re kidding.”

He inhaled deeply as if he needed a cleansing breath, then grabbed her arm again and propelled her off the elevator. He opened the double glass doors for her. Once again they stood in front of the large wooden reception desk.

“Why don’t we start with this?” She tossed her purse down. “Tell me what your problem is.”

“I’m not sure. Seeing you threw me off.” Closing the distance between them, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the pom-pom dangling off the zipper of her sweater, which she’d zipped up to her neck against the morning chill.

He tugged.

“Hey!” She reached up, but it was too late, he’d unzipped her soft, cream-colored sweater all the way down and peeled it open. He stared down at the pale-peach shell she wore beneath. Not at the blouse, but at her exposed neck and throat, which was even more colorful today than it had been Saturday. Dark blue and purple mottled her skin.

Lightly, with a gentle touch, he settled his hand over her throat, his fingers wide. The slightly rough tips glided over her skin. In perfect contrast to the tender touch, his eyes were hot and hard with fury. “Did you see a doctor?”

“I’m okay.”

“Tess—”

For some reason, the way he touched her as if she were a fragile piece of china made her eyes burn when she didn’t want to feel anything for this man, especially not this crazy, inexplicable relief at being with the one person who understood what hell the weekend had held. She stepped back. “Don’t. Don’t you dare go all sweet on me now.”

He pushed the sweater off her shoulders and down her arms. When it had fallen to the floor, he lifted her wrist and looked at the bruising there as well.

From her purse on the reception desk, her cell phone rang. With her free hand she reached for it and looked at the display. “It’s Eddie.”

Reilly grabbed it from her and clicked it on. “What do you want now?” He frowned as he listened. “Just relax, I’m giving her the job. But after this week, I’m switching to another temp agency. Someone who doesn’t interfere with his clients’ lives.” He turned off the phone and tossed it back into her bag, then brought her other wrist up.

“Don’t answer my phone again,” she said, trying to sound strong when his touch made her weak. “It’s rude.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly, playing at being a beta guy for a second. As if there was anything beta about him. His thumb swiped lightly over her skin. “Can you move it without pain?”

“It’s not broken.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“Reilly—” With him touching her, her thoughts had scattered. She couldn’t even muster up a good outrage. She liked his hands on her.

Just as she had before.

Her legs felt a little shaky and her stomach quivered. It startled her to realize she didn’t really have any control over her body’s response to him. “I really think I should go.”

“Are you good at bookkeeping?”

“I’m great at bookkeeping, but—”

“Then stay.”

“I—”

“Stay,” he repeated. He picked up her sweater and hung it on the standing coatrack by the doors. “Come on.”

“Where to?”

He let out a breath that was nearly, but not quite, a laugh. “Not to a servant’s room with nothing but a cot and not through an attic access-way either. Don’t worry, Tess, today will be a cakewalk compared to what we’ve already done together.”

What they’d already done together.

That hung in the air for a moment and, given the way he looked at her from those depthless eyes, he was thinking about it, too.

Then he turned away to show her around. She put those memories out of her mind, thinking she had four long days here to work and it would be nothing but that. Work.

Absolutely, nothing more.





8




REILLY HAD A STAFF ROOM and three offices: one for his office manager, one for the temps he hired and the farthest one for himself. He let Tessa into the temp’s office and tried to ignore the little voice in his head, the one that was berating him for caving in and keeping her there.

Tessa sat at the desk and looked at the computer, which he leaned over her to boot up. Just as he did, his office manager poked her head into the office, having clearly just arrived because she held a steaming Starbucks coffee cup and still wore her sweater.

“You’re late,” he said, watching the computer screen and not noticing that Tessa’s hair smelled like something he wanted to bury his nose in.