Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,41
night.”
Right on cue, she blushed. “Bike riding is different.”
“No, it’s not. Once you learn you never forget, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“All you need is practice.”
“Joseph—”
“Come with me, Christie. I want you to.”
She stared at him for a long moment, biting her lip. Then she sighed. “Okay then.”
He tried to tell himself the small curl of emotion that wound through him wasn’t pleasure.
But he was such a liar.
…
After Joseph had left the apartment to go get “bike stuff,” Christie stood in front of her dresser staring at the clothes in the drawer and gnawing on her lip.
What the hell did you wear mountain biking?
Christie glared at the drawer full of jeans. Why had she agreed to go? What on earth had possessed her?
Because you like him. You want to spend time with him.
Oh yeah, that was why. Plus the way he’d said, “Come with me, Christie.” Just a few simple words, but they’d made her feel good. Made her feel wanted.
The little beam of happiness that shone in her heart was dangerous. And she knew she shouldn’t get too excited. Yet she couldn’t help it. Yeah, this thing with him was only supposed to be casual, but spending a bit more time with him wouldn’t hurt, right? Even if it was doing something hideous like mountain biking.
Hell, after last night, he could probably get her to do anything. Even sing. Out loud. In public.
Reaching for her oldest and loosest pair of jeans, Christie was interrupted by Dead Friends on her mobile again.
She grabbed it. Perhaps it was Joseph? He’d said he’d call her once he had all the equipment they needed.
It wasn’t Joseph.
“Hello, darling,” her mother said. “How are you?”
Oh fantastic. Mum. Christie gritted her teeth. “Fine. Did you want something?”
“No need to be rude. I’m just calling to remind you about Andrew’s party.”
Shit. That’s right. She’d forgotten. “Oh, uh…”
“I hope you haven’t forgotten. The invite is so late because I just wasn’t happy with the design, and the designer was being terribly difficult about it. Anyway, it’s done now and you can expect it soon. I just wanted to know the name of your plus one.”
Christie frowned. “My plus one?”
Her mother sighed. “Christie, do pay attention. Your memory is hopeless. You told me last week you’d be coming and that you’d be bringing someone.”
That’s right. She had. Conjured a boyfriend up from thin air. What a freaking idiot. “Yeah, about that, Mum. He’s rather busy and I don’t think—”
“Oh, but you must bring him, darling. I want to meet him. See if he’s good enough for our little girl.”
Her mother’s false joviality made her cringe. “I’ll ask him. I’m not sure—”
“You do actually have a boyfriend, don’t you?” her mother asked, deceptively casual. “You’re not just pretending? “
Christie swallowed. Set her jaw. “Of course I’m not pretending. Why would I do that?”
Helene laughed. “Oh, people do all sorts of silly things in an effort to prove themselves. Anyway, what’s his name, darling? I want to put it on the invite.”
“Joseph,” Christie said hoarsely. “His name is Joseph.”
“Lovely. I’ll put him down then.” Her mother babbled on about something else but Christie stopped listening.
Crap. What had she done? Joseph wasn’t her boyfriend and he certainly wouldn’t be coming as her plus one to Andrew’s stupid engagement party. What on earth had possessed her to give his name to her mother?
Ah well, what did it matter? When the time came she’d tell her mother Joseph wouldn’t be able to make it after all. No big deal. As long as he never found out she’d been using his name in vain, everything would be fine.
Five minutes after she hung up, her phone beeped again.
She peeked at it. Please God, do not let it be her mother.
It wasn’t. It was a text from Joseph.
What’s your size? How tall are you? And what kind of music do you like to listen to?
Okay, those were weird questions. Shrugging, she texted him her height and size then added,
Gothic metal. But what’s this got to do with bike riding?
A minute later she got a response.
It’s a surprise. Gothic metal huh? You’re hard-core, Naughtygirl.
She grinned. Hard-core. Yeah, she was pretty hard-core.
I am. And don’t you forget it, Love Machine.
Who cared about her damn mother and the stupid engagement party? She was going mountain biking with Joseph Ashton. Who thought she was hard-core.
It didn’t get much better than that.
…
Joseph stopped at the top of the hill and looked back down. Christie was pedaling in a determined way up the slope toward him,