Talking Dirty with the CEO (4 page)

“Good. Because neither do I.”

Somehow they’d gotten closer to each other and she had no idea how it had happened. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to get even closer.

Excitement caught in her throat. She took another few steps, her heels teetering, her dress pulling tight around her thighs. Unfamiliar sensations. Reminding her of who she was supposed to be. Naughtygirl.

She took a breath. “Then what do you like?”

“I like women with long legs that go on forever. In stretchy black dresses. Wearing sheep on their chests.” His gaze never left hers.

Another step closer. “It’s not a sheep. It’s a lamb.”

“Some kind of bovine, then.”

His eyes were so blue, even in the dim light of the street. And he smelled good. And he was warm. Hot. She could feel his heat even from… Good God, she was barely inches away from him now.

“Cows are bovine. Sheep are ovine,” she corrected thickly.

He didn’t move, just let her come close, staring down into her eyes, into her. Looking at her as if she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. The door to the bar opened behind him and people spilled out onto the street, full of loud laughter and shouting. But he didn’t even turn, all his attention focused on her.

And she soaked it up like a plant starved of sunlight.

“Naughtygirl,” he said. “How far are you planning on taking this naughtiness? Because I have to confess, I want to take you home to find out right now.”

Christie’s breath caught. “You want to take me home?” she repeated. Just to be sure she’d heard him correctly.

He smiled. Again. And she melted. Again. “Yes. I’d like to see if you’re wearing a garter belt along with your Ugg boots.” He took one hand out of his pocket and pushed back an errant curl that had come down from her bun. His fingers brushed the side of her neck and she shivered, sparks scattering all over her skin. “And perhaps explore this chemistry.”

Oh bloody hell. He wanted to take her home.

Christie felt the moment slow and come to a complete stop, the air around them thick. Taut with promise. And she was caught in it like a fly in amber.

She could have this. She could go home with this amazingly sexy bad boy. See where it led. See how far she could go. And why not? Why couldn’t the geek get the hot guy for once?

A hot guy who, for some insane reason, seemed to want her, too.

“Yes,” she heard herself say, without a trace of a stutter. “Yes, I’ll come home with you.”

The look on his face changed, his smile taking her breath away. “I was hoping you’d say that. So what’s your name? Or do I keep using your Naughtygirl handle?”

Definitely she wanted to keep being Naughtygirl. Being Christie seemed kind of lame right at this point in time. And tonight was her night to be naughty. As naughty as she dared. “I prefer the handle, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” His gaze lingered on her mouth. “Every girl should be naughty at least once.”

Exhilaration fizzed in her blood. “What about you? Or should I keep calling you Studman?”

He laughed. “No, please don’t. I’m Joseph.”

“Oh, that’s better than Studman.”

“Anything’s better than Studman.”

“This is true.” She wanted to touch him. Touch him the way he’d touched her. And why shouldn’t she? Naughtygirl wouldn’t hesitate. She reached up and touched his stubble-roughened cheek. “But you kind of do look Studman-like. I think it’s the beard.” His skin felt warm, whiskers rough against her fingers “It’s very…” Her breathing faltered.

Oh God. You’re touching him. Actually touching him.

The look in his eyes blazed. But he didn’t move. “Manly?”

“Yes,” she murmured, unable to take her hand away. “And also quite studly.”

“Studly isn’t a word.”

“It should be.”

At that point her mobile burst into song. A stupid tinny version of “Evil on the Rise” by her favorite metal band, Dead Friends
.
Great. Talk about a mood killer.

Flushing, Christie dropped her hand and turned away, digging in her bag. “God, sorry,” she muttered, hauling out the phone and glaring at the screen. Then stopped glaring when it turned out to be a text from Marisa.

I met a friend who trapped me with a cosmopolitan. Please tell me you’re okay.

“I, um, have to answer this,” she said and quickly typed back a response.

Am fine. Have located Studman. All okay. We’re going out on a date. I’ll text you if I need you.

Then she switched her phone to mute and shoved it right down into the bottom of her bag.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

…

Joseph’s apartment was in one of the ridiculously expensive buildings that lined Auckland’s harbor, only a brief walk away from the bar. And it was the most incredible place she’d ever seen. All white, curved walls, and vast windows that gave stunning views out onto the harbor. With minimalist furniture that looked very expensive. Not to mention uncomfortable. The cheerful clutter of her own apartment looked like a garbage dump in comparison.

She stood in the lounge gazing around wide-eyed while Joseph disappeared into the kitchen to get drinks. There were paintings on the wall, abstracts mostly, but one she recognized. It looked like one by New Zealand’s foremost painter, and his paintings were worth close to a million dollars. She edged up to it, not wanting to get too close in case breathing on it was a bad thing. It was an original, not a print. Obviously Joseph-Whoever-He-Was wasn’t short of money.

She glanced in the direction of the kitchen. So who in fact was he? He’d seemed kind of familiar in some way though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Then again, did she really want to know? Finding out who he was would shatter the whole anonymity thing they had going on here, and she didn’t want to do that.

It was nice being Naughtygirl. Easier somehow. Meant she didn’t have to talk about herself, and let’s face it, that was a relief. People either got her interest in gadgets and computers or they didn’t. And when they didn’t, they
really
didn’t. Plus she’d also have to confess that this date was research for an article on dating and she didn’t want to have to do that, either.

It’s not research now, though, is it?

No, it wasn’t. She wasn’t here for just for Ben anymore. She was here for herself, too.

Taking another scan around the apartment, her attention snagged on the stereo unit against one wall. Something sleek and white and seriously sexy.

Her eyes widened. Was that a Karlsson Series 6
?

One of the guys at the magazine had gotten the chance to review a Karlsson a couple of months ago and had raved about it. Everyone else, Christie included, had been full of tech envy. The brand was just about the best in the world. Not something you could pick up for a couple of hundred dollars at your local appliance shop. The receiver alone cost thousands.

Christie crossed the room and bent to examine it. Oh yeah, it was a Karlsson all right. Beautiful. She reached out a hand.

“Please don’t touch that.”

Christie frowned. Her hand dropped and she turned around.

Joseph stood just behind her, carrying a couple of glasses of wine. “It’s a very expensive stereo.”

“Hey, I get it.” She straightened. “A Karlsson Series 6. Voted hi-fi system of the decade by
Pure Tone
magazine last year. Currently delivers one of the lowest levels of distortion ever recorded. It has sixteen separate transformers, high-speed rectifiers, also ultra-low filtering impedance capacitors. Essentially its excess noise cancellation abilities are the best in the world. Only twenty were ever made and it’s now a collector’s item.”

He stared at her as if she’d just grown another head. “I guess you’ve seen one before, then.”

Christie grinned at him. “Are you kidding me? I love stereos.”

Unexpectedly, Joseph grinned back. “So do I.”

And for a second a small moment of connection passed between them. A moment when they weren’t anonymous strangers who’d met in a chat room. A moment when they understood each other as if they’d known each other for years.

“You want to know something?” He put the glasses down on a nearby coffee table. “You’re the first woman I’ve had here who’s even noticed my stereo.”

“Oh, uh, really?” Discomfort twisted inside her, the moment of connection fading. Perhaps because it made her think about just what kind of women a guy like him dated.

Supermodels probably. Or rich heiresses.

Or blonde ad executives if you’re Greg.

Definitely not geek girls who found dates in online game forums.

Christie swallowed. A lump of something heavy sat on her chest and she felt sick.

Joseph frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” she said, lying like a rug. “Um, c-can I use your bathroom for a sec?” She wasn’t running away. Not at all. She just needed some space.

“Sure. Down the hallway on your left.”

Christie walked down the hallway, trying to calm the sick feeling.

This was crazy. Where had this awful discomfort come from? It didn’t make any sense.

The bathroom was a temple to hygiene, all pristine white tiles and chrome fittings, but she barely noticed, the heavy thing sitting in the center of her chest getting heavier.

Crossing over to the vanity, she put her hands on the marble and closed her eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths.

God, who was she kidding? She wasn’t Naughtygirl. She wasn’t naughty in any way, shape, or form. She was a tech hack who liked computers. And here she was with the hottest guy on the planet, all set to “explore their chemistry,” and where was she? In the bloody bathroom feeling nearly ill with doubt.

Man, what was wrong with her?

Christie opened her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror. Color burned on her cheeks, so intense her freckles turned pink. Her hair had started coming out of the messy bun and now looked like a bird’s nest. Her mascara had smudged, too.

You’ve never been very good with men, have you?
Helene’s voice whispered inside her head, insidious.

Christie scowled at herself in the mirror.

No. No way. Her mother didn’t know jack. And she hadn’t spent the last eight years making her own life, living on her own terms, just to fall back into old patterns now.

She’d sworn this date would be amazing. That this date would be for her.

She was Naughtygirl. All she had to do was act like it.

…

Joseph paced around the lounge, antsy and restless. She’d been in that bathroom a long time, hadn’t she? Why? Women’s problems again? Or had he upset her with his quip about other women and his stereo? He’d meant it as a joke, not intending to make her uncomfortable.

Cursing, he made another circuit of the room.

Christ, he hoped he hadn’t blown it, because he hadn’t met a woman he’d wanted quite so much in a very long time.

Naughtygirl was just so…different.

Ovine, not bovine.

Since when had he had a date who corrected him on his sheep terminology? Or on anything, for that matter. Since never. And that was even before the whole stereo conversation. He’d never had a date talk about excess noise cancellation before, either.

And hey, might as well admit to the fact that he totally had the hots for her physically, too.

Long russet lashes and smoky green eyes. A soft red mouth. Stretchy black dress pulling tight around slender thighs. Her elegant neck left bare by thick, upswept hair, small neat ears and delicate, pointed jawline.

So sexy. Even her awkwardness appealed to him, suggesting a sensuality just waiting to be discovered.

Joseph stopped in the middle of the room, staring down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Perhaps she was sick. Perhaps there was something majorly wrong. Perhaps he should be going to see if she was okay.

Not stopping to think, he just headed straight down the hallway to the bathroom. The door was open so he walked right in.

She was standing in front of the vanity, her gaze flicking to his in the mirror as he entered. There was something vulnerable about her, about the look on face. Something uncertain. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re not okay, are you?”

She looked away. “I’m fine.”

No, she wasn’t. Any idiot could see that. “Then why did you leave?”

Naughtygirl turned from the mirror. “Would you believe women’s problems again?”

“Not really, no.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just…”

“Just what? Look, if you don’t want to take this further we don’t have to.” Fighting his own disappointment, he made himself say it. “I could take you home if you’d prefer.”

Her head came up at that, her eyes wide. “You really want to take me home?”

“No. I don’t. I’m just saying that if you want to leave, then you can.”

For a long moment she stared at him. “But…I don’t want to leave.”

Joseph stepped into the bathroom. She didn’t move as he came closer, just kept staring at him.

He halted mere inches from her. “Good,” he said, his voice thick. “Because, honey, I really don’t want you to go.”

She blinked, white teeth sinking into her luscious lower lip. Nibbling on it. And he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her mouth, wondering how she would taste. What sounds she would make if he bit her there.

And the look in her eyes changed, became determined. As if she’d made some sort of decision.

Before he could move, before he’d even had time to think, she’d closed the gap between them, rising up on her toes to press her mouth to his.

Electricity shot through him. As though he’d been plugged into a power socket, the current shooting straight to his groin. Jesus Christ. He’d never felt anything like it.

He reached for her but she was already pulling away, her face gone bright red, the sound of her breathing loud in the confined space of the bathroom. Staring at him in utter amazement.

So she’d felt it, too. God, they didn’t just have chemistry, they had the whole bloody science curriculum.

“Oh, I’m s-sorry,” she began. “I should never have done—”

But Joseph didn’t care what she should never have done. He only had one thought in his head: he had to kiss her again. Unable to stop himself, he took her face between his hands and covered her mouth with his. She shuddered, a small, shocked sound escaping from her.