Her face scrunches. “What?”
This is a bad idea. A monumentally stupid idea. But standing here, looking at her, I want her more than I care to admit.
“How about this? Tonight’s off the table. I get it. But what if fisherman Liam wanted to take you out on his boat this weekend? No work bullshit, no real-world complications. Just a man and a woman enjoying each other’s company.”
She bursts out laughing, the sound tinged with disbelief. “You’re joking right?”
“No.” I’m dead serious. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, take you for dinner along the coast, and we’ll stay on the boat.”
“Fuck,” she breathes out. She pauses, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
“Fisherman Liam promises to be on his best behavior. He’ll be laid-back, easy-going . . . a real fucking catch.” I smirk, unable to help myself.
She smirks back. “That’s a terrible play on words. Like, dad joke levels of cringe.”
“Yeah, well, cut the guy some slack. He’s been out at sea for ages with nothing but his hand for company. And he can’t stop thinking about burying his face between your thighs again.”
She tries to hide her smile, failing miserably. “You fight dirty, you know that? Pulling out the fisherman Liam card . . .”
“No, darling. I just go after what I want, and I don’t stop until I get it.”
“Well, you can tell him that secretary Ginger can’t play hooky because she has to bust her ass this weekend on recruitment stuff. You know, for those seats we still desperately need to fill?”
Goddammit. Any other time, I’d be riding her to get those positions locked down. But right now? I want her riding me more.
And a small voice in me tells me that’s not me compartmentalizing. Or prioritizing what’s important. But I choose to ignore it.
“We’ll extend the deadline,” I counter, waving a dismissive hand. “And you know I don’t make my people work weekends anyway.”
“No, but we both know that’s usually how it plays out. And if I don’t get shit done, you’ll be breathing down my neck come Monday morning, Liam.”
“I won’t. I swear.” Christ, I’m practically begging.
“Will Skipper Magee be there?” she asks.
“Fuck no. The skipper won’t be anywhere near this excursion. I told you I don’t share, Gemma. Especially not with my old boat captain.”
“Good, because his feet are rank.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
She stares at me. “All right, fine. I’ll come. But make sure fisherman Liam knows I’m not taking any orders, and I’m sure as hell not doing any of that rigging or jibbing or tacking or whatever.”
I smirk, taking a strand of her red hair between my fingers. I can’t wait to pull on this over the weekend. “Oh, he doesn’t expect you to lift a finger, baby. Except maybe to grip the sheets while he’s going down on you for hours.”
She swallows hard, her cheeks flushing pink. “Fine. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
CHAPTER 33
Gemma
I stare at thebackground checks IT sent over, sipping on Jimmy’s coffee.
Tonight, I’m supposed to be heading to the coast with “fisherman” Liam. Not that I’ve ever seen him catch a single fish, so the nickname feels ridiculous. But it’s stuck, and it’s hot.
He got me. I can say no to banker Liam . . . but fisherman Liam I’d like to see again.
To my amusement, the IT security team have taken the brief literally and ran profiles oneveryone—Liam and me included.
