“I’m willing to bet it’s not helping.”
“You don’t know me,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“I know you enough to know you get grumpy when you haven’t eaten.”
I chose to ignore that.
“Aren’t you embarrassed?”
“For failing to speak up? Yes.”
“About me,” I clarified. At his knitted brows, I sighed and waved down at my body. “About my outfit.”
His gaze lazily tracked down my body. I swear each inch of skin he looked at warmed.
“Why the hell would how you look embarrass me?”
“This is inappropriately sexy,” I insisted.
“It is sexy,” he agreed, his arm lifting and going around my hip, pulling me closer.
“My boobs are practically out.”
“Not enough for my taste,” he said, his eyes sliding down my chest.
“The slits are completely indecent,” I told him.
“I’m a big fan of your legs.”
God, he had to stop pulling me closer. My mind and my body were always at odds around him. And my pulse was already thrumming, my skin warming.
“Fine. But you don’t want all your business associates to see them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they might think the wrong thing.”
“Like what? That you have nice legs and I like seeing them?”
“That I don’t fit in here.”
That got a deep sigh out of him.
“So, that’s what this is about.”
“What did you think it was?”
“A pleasant surprise.”
There was a quick jolt of guilt.
I hadn’t exactly considered that angle. That by showing up, he might have thought it was a sign that I’d been softening, reconsidering my feelings on our whole situation.
I’d been so focused on making him see I didn’t fit in his world that I hadn’t considered this possibly being genuinely hurtful.
“What makes you think you don’t fit in here?” he asked.
“We are from different worlds.”
