Chapter Fifteen

 

Upside #15: The only thing you have to overthink is whether or not you can get away with that dress. The key: whether or not your mother will take one look at you and ask you if you’re pregnant.

 

Every time someone walked past my office, I flinched. I kept the door ajar so I wouldn’t be shocked when Jake arrived, but ever since he’d left my house and I’d had my bath—in which I’d thought so much I solved world hunger and the homeless crisis, thank you very much—I’d been on edge thinking about what would happen when I saw him.

If we were now boss and employee, did I have to call him Mr. Creed? Would he now call me Melanie all the time? Would it be awkward when we sat across the desk from each other?

Oh, Jesus. Of course, it would be awkward. I knew what he tasted like, for the love of God. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he kissed.

If I thought my crush was a schoolgirl one before, I’d obviously forgotten what it was like to be in high school.

What the hell was I doing? The only way this would be comfortable was if we didn’t work together. But equally, I refused to leave my job because of a man.

I had to grow a pair. I had to stop thinking of him the way I was.

If only it were that easy. He was as close to perfect as a guy could get. Which meant he either had a very small penis or a problem with ingrowing toenails. Maybe he couldn’t read or he had an uncomfortably close relationship with a female relative.

There had to be something wrong with him. Nobody, and I mean nobody, could kiss that well, be that good looking, and be as much of a gentleman as Jacob Creed was, without having something wrong with them.

It was that simple.

Like me. I was arguably rather pretty. I was successful, I could cook, and I was a bit of a green-thumbed girl. It was a shame about my clumsiness, or Jane Austen would have married me off by now.

My mother would have married me off by now if I hadn’t smashed Davy Boudreau’s mama’s favorite vase at a party. In my defense, I warned her I couldn’t dance.

I also warned my mother I wasn’t cut out for the high-society in this city, which she really should have known when the man hired to teach me to dance quit because I kept stepping on his toes.

It was a miracle I could cook without burning so much as my finger, really.

I unscrewed the cap on my water bottle and looked out of the window as I took a drink. There was a stack of paperwork sitting on my desk, but all I could think about was what was wrong with Jacob Creed.

That charming smile had to hide something. The devil wore many disguises, according to my grandma.

Then again, she also thought chickens were the devil’s minions, so her logic was questionable.

“Hey.”

I spat out half my water and choked on the other half.

Jake sighed. “You’re right. I’m the common denominator here. Try not to choke to death on my account, yeah?”

I thumped my chest and put the bottle on the desk. Waving my hand to tell him to shut up, I managed to get rid of the horrible tickle in my throat.

“You didn’t hear me coming? Lillie stopped me to warn me you’ve been like a nervous beetle all morning.” Jake pushed the door fully shut and put a white paper bag on the desk. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I was thinking about my grandma and her feelings about chickens,” I said slowly, reaching for the cap to put back on the bottle. “Don’t ask.”

He raised one eyebrow, a la The Rock style. Questioning, confused expression and everything. “Part of me tells me I shouldn’t, but honestly, I do have questions.”

I waved him away. “It’s too early for that.” I turned back to the mound of paperwork when a couple of envelopes caught my eye. “Oh, by the way,” I said, reaching for them. “You had mail this morning.”

“Thanks.” He took them from me and glanced at them. “I’ll open those in a minute. I didn’t eat yet.” He opened the white bag and pulled out several smaller bags with the top folded over. “Here. This one is yours.”

Tentatively, I took the bag from him. “Aren’t we supposed to be not-friends?”

“Yes.” He picked up the other bags and held them up. “I’m being a good boss and bought donuts and pastries for everyone. I’m going to put them in the staff area now.”

I blinked at him as he left, leaving one single bag on the desk behind him.

I couldn’t say for sure, but that sounded an awful lot like someone was bending the rules.

And God, the donuts were still hot.

I pulled one out and bit into it. It was an explosion of sugar and gooey goodness on my tongue—and on the paperwork I was supposed to be working on. Rolling my eyes at my own stupidity, but also thanking my lucky stars that was the most mess I’d made today, I wiped it off onto the floor and set the half-eaten donut on top of the paper bag.

Well, it was the most mess I’d made if you didn’t count the water, and I didn’t. It was water. If water was a mess, the Earth needed a real damn good clean up.

Damn. I could have done with that line as a kid.

I managed to get through several bits of the paperwork—and the donut—before Jake made it back to the office. If I was being honest, he looked pretty damn smug and proud of himself.

He grinned ear-to-ear, and there was something overly endearing about the way his eyes sparkled. Hell, he was even whistling.

Why was he whistling?

“Why are you whistling? And can you please stop?” I pressed against my ear to get rid of the lingering ring from the awful noise.

Jake grinned at me. “I’m in a good mood, and I happen to whistle a lot when that happens.”

“You either just bribed your staff with baked goods or you gave them them so you could get around buying me donuts.”

“Someone thinks a lot of herself this morning.”

“Someone sees through your bullshit.”

He snorted and sat down. “I can neither deny or confirm your accusations.”

“You’re so full of shit. It’s not even been twenty-four hours, and you’re already breaking all your rules.”

He leaned back in his hair, a smug smile on his face. “And you were supposed to be the strong one, but you’re covered in powdered sugar.”

“Look.” I rested my elbow on the table and pointed my pen at him. “If you hand me donuts, I’m going to eat them. That means I’m weak where donuts are concerned, not where you are.”

“You once told me donuts are the way to your heart.”

“That has nothing to do with this.”

His eyes sparkled. “I literally just bought my way into your heart.”

I stared at him. “That’s literally the worst line I’ve ever heard in my life, and my friends run hook-up and dating websites. Chloe has a page of bad pick up lines on her website.”

Jake winced, rubbing his hand down his face. “Yeah, it sounded a lot smoother in my head. Can we try that again?”

“No!” I laughed, slamming my pen down. “My God. You’re a weak, weak man! We have a deal, and no matter what you say, we’re sticking to it. No kissing, no being friends, and…” I glanced at the donut bag.

“You were about to tell me not to buy donuts again, weren’t you?”

“I believe I already asked that.”

“I can stop if you really want me to.”

“Woah, woah. Let’s not be too hasty in making that decision now.” I paused. “You really should continue in the interest of boss-employee relations.”

He raised his eyebrows, lips pulling into a sexy little smirk like the one I saw the very first night we met. “There are a lot of things we can do in the interest of boss-employee relations, but since almost all of them start with kissing, you’ve vetoed that.”

“You did a veto, too!”

“I was being a gentleman.”

“Oh, so our conversation yesterday was a waste of both our time? Well, thank God for that. I love meaningless conversations with people who don’t listen to me.”

“Hey, spitfire. I listened to you. Every word.”

I glared at him. “You forgot the part where we’re not friends and not kissing!” I finished on a hiss.

Jake paused, his gaze flitting across my face before he glanced down at where I’d picked the pen back up and was squeezing it tightly. “I don’t know,” he started. “This is an awful lot like not friends, and definitely not even close to kissing.”

I threw my pen at him.

He was quick. His hand shot out, and he snatched the pen from the air before it could make contact with him. “Your aim is dreadful.”

“Good. It’s probably friends with your self-control!”

He looked like he was going to say something, but instead, he burst out laughing. I glared at him while he laughed at me, seemingly not caring he was winding me up more and more by the minute.

I crossed my arms over my chest and kept staring at him. Unfortunately for me, the longer I did it, the harder he laughed.

“You’re right,” he finally said. “My self-control is dreadful. And it doesn’t help when your top button is undone.”

I jerked my head down, and damn it, he was right. The stupid thing must have worked its way free while I was working. I quickly did it back up and then placed my hand there just in case.

“That’s not an excuse for your weakness,” I told him. “You haven’t even tried.”

“I don’t want to try.”

“So, you’re going to spend our working hours trying to seduce me while I have to resist you? Won’t that be bad for your ego?”

His eyebrows raised again. “Who said it was limited to just our working hours?”

I sat back and, flicking my pen against the desk, said, “I don’t know if you’re messing with me or if you’re serious. Or if you’re just testing me to see if I’ll give in or not.”

“Well, if you give in, I’m gonna give in, so you can nix that last one.”

“Oh, well, that narrows it down,” I said dryly. “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned. The same grin that always sent butterflies through me. This time, it sent a shiver down my spine. “Look, the reason I buy you donuts is because if food is the way to your heart, I’m screwed. I can’t cook.”

I stilled.

Oh, my God.

That was it.

“Why are you looking at me like I just kicked your puppy?” Jake asked.

I met his gaze. “You can’t cook?”

“I can’t cook,” he replied slowly, fidgeting. “Why?”

“Oh my God. That’s what’s wrong with you.”

He blinked at me, confusion clouding his eyes. “I’m so confused.”

I clapped my hand over my mouth. I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. That thought was supposed to stay firmly inside my head.

Oh no.

“The fact I can’t cook means there’s something wrong with me?”

I met his eyes. Thankfully, he was halfway between confusion and all-out amusement. “I, um, never mind. Oh, look at that. It’s my lunch break.”

“It’s ten-thirty.”

“Brunch break! Same thing!” I got up and grabbed my purse.

The single flaw in my plan was that he was between me and the door.

Fine. Not the single plan, but the major one.

Jake stood, sending the chair flying back to the wall, and blocked my path to the door. “Tell me what you mean.”

I mimed zipping my lips.

“Mellie.”

I shook my head, clutching my purse to my stomach to put a barrier stronger than thin air between us.

“Melanie…” His voice took on a rougher, darker edge, and his eyes hardened, too. But not in a scary way. A weirdly sexy way.

I swallowed and took a step back. “I can take my brunch at lunch.”

He grabbed me before I had a chance to escape back around to my side of the desk. In one swift movement, he snatched my purse from me, throwing it onto his chair, then spun me so my ass bumped into the desk.

Leaning forward, he planted his hands either side of me on the desk.

I was trapped.

We both knew it.

And so did the boom-boom-boom beat of my heart as it went wild.

“Tell me what you mean by what you said,” he said in a low voice, his face only inches from mine.

Well, I’d fucked up this much, so what was a little more honesty?

“I, um…” I reached up and pushed my hair from my face before I clasped my hands against my lower stomach. Making sure not to look him in the eye, I picked a spot on the wall behind him and said, “I was thinking earlier that something had to be wrong with you, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Because, um, well…” Spit it out, woman, God. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but—”

“How can I not take this the wrong way?”

“You’re not letting me finish!”

He looked at me flatly. “Spitfire, you haven’t even started explaining yet.”

The man…had a point.

Damn it.

I hated it when that happened.

“Okay, fine.” I huffed out a breath and retrained my gaze on that spot on the wall. “It works like this. You’re handsome—”

“Am I, now?”

“—You’re successful.”

“Working on it.”

“And you’re incredibly humble,” I added dryly, snapping my gaze to him. “Shut up and let me finish.”

His lips tugged to the side. “Now, she looks at me. Go again. From the top. I’m enjoying this.”

I licked my lips, bit back a smartass retort, and started again. “You’re handsome. You’re successful. You’re a gentleman. And as far as kissing goes, you’re not too bad at it. So, there had to be something wrong with you, and now I know. You can’t cook. That’s your negative.”

He stared at me for a moment. “All I hear from that is that you’ve been thinking about me when I’m not around.”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it.

Closed it.

Did anyone need help finding Nemo? I was apparently a new breed of fish with this mouth.

“You’re not denying it.” He grinned.

“I literally just admitted I was,” I finally managed to get out. “But, there you go. There’s your explanation. Can you let me go now, please?”

He put one finger against my lips but quickly returned his hand to the desk so I couldn’t move. “Is not being able to cook a bad thing? Can you cook?”

“Of course, I can cook. I’m not carrying an extra ten pounds on my ass from starving, am I?” I rolled my eyes. “How do you eat if you can’t cook?”

“Take-out.”

“You live off take-out?”

“If you want to be judgmental, the reason you have an extra ten pounds on your ass is because your daily breakfast is donuts.”

“Why you—” I stopped. This was another one of those situations where you couldn’t argue with the truth. “I hate it when you’re right.”

He blinked in shock. “Holy shit. I thought you’d go right for the balls for that asshole comment.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “It’s true. Although the yoga probably balances it out at this point.” At least, that’s what I was telling myself. “I can’t believe you live off take-out. Or that you’re still trapping me against this desk.”

“You’re lucky that trapping you is all I’m doing, spitfire.” A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. “And I don’t live off take-out. Only mostly. Sometimes, I’m a real adult who eats in restaurants.”

“Or you could learn to cook.”

“I make mean scrambled eggs.”

“My eight-year-old cousin can make scrambled eggs.” I raised my eyebrows. “You’re not convincing me, Jake.”

He sighed, dropping his head to the side. “Then, teach me.”

“Oh no. No. I’m not falling for this.” I jabbed him in the shoulder. “You’re doing everything you can to break the rules we set—”

“You’re doing a stellar job of following them right now.”

“—And I’m not falling for your shit. Let me go.”

His eyes shone with mirth, the laughter practically dancing in his gaze. “I’ll let you go if you teach me how to cook.”

“I’m not falling for this!”

He shrugged a shoulder, taking a step back until he was more comfortable. “Then, I guess we’ll just stay here all day long, even if someone needs to come in here. That’ll be some real awkward explaining…”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not doing it. You told me I had to be the one who’d resist, so that’s what I’m doing. Resisting.”

“All right. You sit there against the desk. Resisting.” He moved his face an inch closer to mine. “And I’ll stand here thinking about how many times I’d have to kiss your neck to make you turn and bend over it. Fair?”

No. That wasn’t fair. That was playing dirty, and he knew it.

I clenched my thighs together. “More times than you’d be able to before I punched you right in the dick,” I snapped.

“Since we’ll be here a while, I should get started.” His eyes flashed almost in a challenge, but…

He wouldn’t, would he?

He wouldn’t actually—

His lips brushed the base of my neck, just above where it curved down to my collarbone. A jolt of pleasure went skittering across my skin, and I inhaled sharply.

He smiled against my skin, then kissed me again.

“Fine!” I shoved him away from me and managed to actually break away from him. “Fine!” I dragged my hand through my hair and took a deep breath. “I will teach you to cook if you never do that again!”

Because goddamn it, he’d kissed my neck twice and my vagina was clenching in desire like it was Kegel time.

The smile that covered his face was triumphant and sexy and a little bit cocky. “Tonight.”

I hesitated.

“I’ll do it again,” he warned.

I scooted back. “I hate you.”

He smirked.

“Tonight,” I agreed. “Six o’clock at my house. And it’s nothing more than to get you off my back, do you understand?”

“Perfectly.”

I shuffled back around to my side of the desk and sat down. “Now, go away and let me finish my work. Pain in the ass,” I finished on a mutter.

“This is my office, too.”

“Goddamn it.”