Page 17 of Summer Heat
She ground her teeth before answering. “It has three sugars. Unless you want to go into a diabetic coma, I’m sure it’s plenty sweet.”
He frowned. “Well, bring me an extra packet, just in case.”
She stepped closer to the desk, knowing she was about to poke the bear. “Do you think maybe something else is bothering you besides the coffee?” she asked in a deliberately sugary voice. Pun intended.
He stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She walked closer to the desk, placing one hand on the cool aluminum surface, because she didn’t want their raised voices causing office gossip.
“Instead of being a jerk about the coffee, how about you face the fact that we kissed last night?” Ignoring her trembling insides, she met his gaze, determined to hold her own. “And maybe you’re upset because you told me some things you wish you hadn’t?” she pushed on.
“Un-fucking-believable.” He stormed around her and walked to the door, slamming it closed so they were well and truly alone.
Chapter Five
Kade turned to face Lexie, not feeling the least bit professional as he reined in his frustration and desire. The damned woman was always one step ahead of him, figuring him out and calling him on his behavior. And today, she’d nailed him. He was being a complete and utter ass because he’d crossed the line with his personal assistant, kissed her, and trusted her with information that shouldn’t have left this office.
He couldn’t let her know she got to him beyond the superficial. “You really think you have me figured out?” he asked.
“We both know I do. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’m no more ready to deal with anything between us than you are. My life is too complicated, so we can just forget the kiss ever happened.”
Her words cut deep. Even if she had her reasons, she didn’t want to deal with him. She wanted to forget, and that was something women in his life were good at.
But a glance at her flushed cheeks told him that he had affected her. For the first time today, he raked his gaze over her from top to bottom. Instead of a sexy skirt, she wore a pair of trousers that hid her shape, a boxy shirt that would have looked better on him, and very little makeup. She was hiding. Which told him she’d been every bit as unnerved by that kiss as he was.
He stepped closer, and she inched back, the dance continuing until she came up against the wall and he sandwiched her there, close enough to be in her personal space and breach her comfort zone. Her heavy breasts rose and fell beneath that god-awful shirt, her nipples poking through the material.
Need sliced through him at the sight. And then she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and he ached to do the same, to have the freedom to taste her again, to cup those breasts and feel their weight in his hands.
But he couldn’t. And she needed to understand she wasn’t the one calling the shots or defining whatever this was between them.
“Lexie, I don’t have any desire for a relationship either.” She hadn’t used the word, but he might as well make himself perfectly clear. “I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but mine is equally complicated, if not more so. So I’m sorry if a kiss while under the influence of drugs gave you the wrong impression,” he said dismissively.
Which was ironic because, as he stepped back, it was with great difficulty, and under duress thanks to his cock, which protested him pushing her away.
She glared at him. “Under the influence. You’re going to blame one lousy painkiller instead of owning your actions?” she asked, her eyes flashing with hurt and anger.
“I am,” he said, even if, deep down, he knew, as she did, that the kiss had been inevitable.
That at some point, given their chemistry, he’d have taken her into his arms … and done more than kiss her if his injured hand hadn’t prevented it. But if the painkiller gave him an excuse, so be it.
Now, when she was off-balance, he had to go in for the kill. “As for the information I admitted to, also while under the influence…” He didn’t use the words date rape. He couldn’t.
She narrowed her gaze. “What about it?”
“I’d like you to sign this.” He strode over to his desk and pulled up the paper he’d printed as soon as he’d arrived this morning, having come up with the solution on the way to work.
“What is it?” she asked warily.
“A nondisclosure agreement.” He handed her the one-page document. “It guarantees you won’t speak of or repeat what you learn in the context of our … business relationship. That includes whatever you learn here or while in my apartment.”
She sucked in a startled breath, a slight gasp coming out too. “You don’t trust me not to repeat what you told me last night. After I brought you home, fed you, took care of you, and made sure you weren’t alone and in pain, you’re going to repay me by asking me to sign an NDA,” she said, her voice cracking as she spoke.
His hand began to throb, and he realized he’d been letting it hang down, the blood flowing into his injured knuckles and fingers. Damned if he didn’t deserve it.
“It’s standard procedure in business,” he said.
“Then you should have included it in the packet Derek gave me when I signed on after he hired me.” She stormed over to the desk, pulled out a pen, and scrawled her name on the page. “Here.” She turned and slapped the paper against his chest.
