“That makes you my boss.”
“Not yet. Right now, I’m still a reporter on assignment with an adorable producer, which makesyoukind of my boss.”
“If I’m the boss, then why are you always so bossy? Huh?”
He tangled his fingers with hers and stroked the sensitive spot between her thumb and pointer finger.
He’s going to be your boss. He’s going to be your boss. He’s going to be your boss.
Her breath hitched. “Three-part question,” she whispered.
“Got a feeling no matter what I say, you’re asking anyway. Shoot.” He untangled his grasp.
“Why do you call me Princess? Before you were messing around with the other names, but this one’s stuck. Why?”
His eyes danced. “Luce, it’s on your ass.”
She blinked hard. “Come again?”
“The writing on your pants says ‘Princess’ right across your…ahem…backside.” He gestured to her nether regions.
“I cannot believe you were reading my ass.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first. “Watch your words carefully.”
“You walk around with words stamped on your pants, men are gonna look.”
“They’re not my pants.” Well, they weren’t. It’s not like she’d chosen them.
“Not your pants?” he asked.
“That’s what I said.” Her heart beat faster with the knowledge he had checked her out.
“Luce. You gave the same defense of every crackhead who gets arrested with blow in his pocket. Gotta be honest, the logic doesn’t fly. You’re wearing them, they’re your pants. End of story.”
“Are you always this difficult?” She shuffled the cards again.
“You’ve got a couple of days to find out.”
She let out a deep breath. “My guess is yes.”
“Your guess is probably right. My turn. Honesty this time. Why are you so afraid of water?”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.
“Don’t say sharks.”
Ugh. She didn’t like doing personal, and they’d been getting very personal.
“I confess I do pools fine. Anywhere I can see the bottom and know I can touch. When I can’t see the bottom I get panicky about what’s down there. Add to that, drowning would be the worst way to go. So I avoid the possibility.” She set the stack of cards in front of her.
“Drowning wouldn’t be so bad,” he said with confidence.
“Uh, yeah it would be awful. Your lungs burning up when you’re unable to get to the surface. The panic. Ugh. No. But, seriously, thank you for ensuring I won’t sleep tonight.”
“I’ll distract you later. You’ll forget.” He tipped his bottle to his lips and winked at her.
Warmth flooded her cheeks. She studied the wood grain of the table as though it held the answer to the meaning of life.
