Page 16 of Mistletoe Mistake
I couldn't stop the corners of my mouth from turning up at the thought of how that night would have ended if that had been the case. “Very much.”
Gemma’s teeth dragged across her bottom lip in response to my tone, making my smile grow wider. Very interesting. I had assumed that any initial attraction she had to me dissipated after our misunderstanding, but perhaps I’d been mistaken. The subtle signs her body gave me right now suggested that she was still interested, and I sure as hell was too.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t do anything about it, so I tried to put the thought out of my mind again.
Gemma, however, still had more questions. “What exactly did you have in mind that you thought I wouldn't do unless you paid me to?”
Despite myself, I let out an uncharacteristic laugh. Had she really been thinking that?
I answered her with a smirk, still feeling amused. “I kind of like you thinking that I have some unusual fetish or that I'm some kind of deviant.”
Gemma grinned in reply, her eyes sparkling as she saw we could both speak freely. “Well, maybe you are. Should I guess?” She tapped her finger against her lips as she thought it over, and I couldn't help staring at her mouth as she did it, even though she hadn’t done it on purpose. Her next words, however, drew my attention back to her eyes. “Something involving clowns?”
I shuddered involuntarily. “God, no. That's just terrifying.”
“Are you afraid of clowns?” A hint of glee snuck into her tone, sounding pleased that she might have discovered a weakness of mine.
“Not afraid, exactly. I just don't see the point of them.”
“So, you hate clowns and Christmas,” she mused. “Maybe you just don't like fun.”
As much as I enjoyed her teasing, I couldn't stop myself from leaning closer to her and lowering my voice, noting the way her eyes widened as I did. “I have plenty of fun. It just has to be the right kind.”
Gemma shifted in her seat and my lips twitched upward again. I could guess the reason for the movement: she was getting a bit turned on, just as I was. We had a definite chemistry between us, something I hadn't experienced in a long time, and although I would love to see how it translated to the bedroom, there were several reasons that I couldn't.
Fuck, this was frustrating.
Suddenly, Gemma seemed to realize that I hadn't answered her original question, so she returned to it now. “None of that explains why you wanted me to be a hooker.”
The humour slowly drained from my body as I tried to figure out how to explain it without going into too many details. “I already told you that I don't like unnecessary complications. That's true in my personal life as well as in business. It's better if everyone knows in advance what the expectations are and what they're going to get out of it.”
“Life doesn't always work that way,” she pointed out, sounding like someone speaking from experience.
“It can if you keep things clear and transparent up front,” I argued back. My rules for myself were based on that belief. It formed the basis for the way I'd lived my life ever since Samantha.
Gemma took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something challenging. “Okay, then, Cole. For the sake of being clear and transparent, I have to tell you that I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened the other night.”
A groan of frustration almost escaped me but I caught it at the last second. “It's crossed my mind too, but now...” I spread my hands out to indicate the contract on the table and her office in general, “things are even more complicated.”
“Then let's uncomplicate them.” Gemma's words were direct and her gaze even more so.
She had my attention, and I raised an eyebrow at her in curiosity. “And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?”
Her eyes never left mine. "By spending the night together. Tonight."
~Gemma~
My suggestion obviously caught Cole off guard, and to be honest, it surprised me too. I hadn't even really meant to say it. I had called him into my office to clear the air about what happened between us so we didn't feel like we needed to tiptoe around it. And somehow, between the flirting and the way my body lit up through his sheer proximity, I ended up telling him that I wanted to sleep with him.
When he didn’t immediately turn me down, taking a moment to think it over, I assumed that meant he must still be interested, and I couldn’t stop the hope and excitement that rose up inside me.
His voice sounded low and restrained when he did reply, as if he were struggling to keep control. "I'd like to, Gemma. God knows I would, but I'm afraid it's just not something I can do."
What did he mean by that? "We haven't signed anything yet," I reminded him. "So, if you're worried about mixing business and pleasure..."
"That's not it."
The tightness of his face told me he meant it, that it had nothing to do with not wanting me, but that still left me clueless about what the sticking point might be.
