his shirt if the way his eyes keep dipping to the hem proves anything.
‘Ah, yes. Hello. This is Rose’s uncle—Rose’s uncle Fred!’ he adds, clearly pleased with his character’s name while also turning kind of British in his diction. ‘I’m afraid she’ll be coming in a little late today. I arrived in town last night to surprise her—an agreeable surprise, I should add. And well, let’s just say following our reunion she’s has some internal issues overnight.’
‘Remy!’ I hiss. No mean feat, considering I’m also smiling and also trying to steal the phone from his hand unsuccessfully as he holds me at bay with one hand. One tickling hand.
‘What kind of issues, you ask?’ And he’s back to the terrible American accent again. ‘Well, ma’am, I don’t like to say. Really? Oh, I see. Well, between you and me, she said it feels like her internal organs have been rearranged.’
‘Remy!’ I protest again without volume. I mean, he isn’t lying, but that isn’t the reason I drop dramatically to the bed. ‘Kill me now! Being fired isn’t enough to escape this embarrassment.’
His gaze cuts my way. One eloquent eyebrow raised, his way of reminding me he’s the boss, I suppose. Oh well, no need to worry about being fired, just dying from mortification, I guess.
‘I’ll be sure to tell her that, though it does seem a little unfair. In fact, I think I might need to mention your thoughts to the folks at the top. Come to think of it, I met one of your top guys last night. What was his name again? Let me see. Jimmy something, I think. Jimmy? Timmy? I’m getting there—there’s no need to take that tone with me. Ah, Remy! Remy Durrand,’ he says, mispronouncing his own name. Doo-raand. ‘Seemed like a decent fella. In fact, he said I could just go on ahead and call his personal assistant, Miss Bisset if I needed anything.’ Miss Bee-set. ‘Well, that’s mighty good of you. I’ll be sure to pass on your words to my squeeze, I mean, my niece. You have yourself a nice day.’
‘I’m dead,’ I groan, crossing my hands across my chest as though a corpse, only to throw them up in the air almost immediately. ‘Oh my Lord, what even was that?’
‘That was your line manager, not God, ma biche.’
‘Did you just call me your bitch?’ I lift my head from the mattress and glare at him. I’m nobody’s bitch. Unless I say so.
‘Biche,’ he corrects in that sinful accent of his. ‘It means doe. It was meant with affection. Like honey, or sweetie, or babe.’
Worst. American. Accent. Ever.
So long as he’s not calling me dough-y, not that is the only potential issue here. ‘Speaking of line managers, did you not think to ask my opinion before deciding I’d play hooky?’ My gaze flicks to my thighs poking out like undercooked sausages from the bottom of Remy’s shirt.
‘You’re perhaps less doe and more leonine, especially the way you’re glaring at me.’ His darkened gaze rakes over me, the brush of his gaze almost a physical thing.
‘Except you’re not looking at my eyes.’ Maybe he’s right; my response is more purr than reprimand.
‘What do you think has my attention?’
His question strikes a sudden chord within me. What exactly is it exactly that interests him? Is it the sex? Is it the novelty? Could it really be me?
‘What are we doing here, Remy?’
‘We are . . .’ A suggestive smile plays in the corner of his mouth. ‘Enjoying ourselves.’
‘No, really. We’re enjoying ourselves—enjoying each other. But what about tomorrow, and the day after that? Will you go back to you ignoring me in hallways?’
‘I preferred getting you hot on my desk.’
‘And afterwards?’ I sit quite suddenly. I turn to face him, curling my legs as I pull the hem of his shirt down my thighs. ‘What happens when things start to wane between us?’ And what if it’s his interest that begins to fade first? Which would be worse; losing my job, or staying to watch him move on? I grit my jaw, refusing to give in to the emotion welling inside me. So much for staying in the moment and enjoying this for what it is.
‘You don’t think very much of me, do you?’
‘I barely know you.’ My gaze falls from his with this truth, a truth my head and body seemed content to ignore a few hours ago. I knew what I was getting myself into—I knew the score—but I have to