Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,46
protect me?” He leaned back into her, feeling her hands sliding lower.
“Hmm, I’m not sure you need protection.” Her hands moved even lower. “You’re pretty well-armed already.” Cool fingers circled him. “I got the BFG 9000, oh yes…”
“I almost hate to ask.”
“You never played Doom? BFG stands for Big Fuc—”
The doorbell rang, shattering the moment.
Christie cursed in a very unladylike fashion. “Who the hell could that be?”
He laughed, turning his face to her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her. “I have no idea but I want to kill them.”
Her hand brushed down his back in a light caress. “I’d better get it.”
“No. I’ll go.” He pushed up and off the bed, reaching for his jeans. “That way if it’s someone you know, they’ll go away quicker once they see me.”
“Good point.” She rolled over onto her stomach and pointed a finger at him. “But don’t be long. I have plans.”
“Oh, believe me, so do I.”
Out in the hallway, Joseph pulled open Christie’s front door to find a courier standing on the other side of it. “Here,” the guy said, handing Joseph a very expensive-looking gilt-edged envelope. “Sign, please.”
Mildly curious, Joseph did so, then took the envelope back into the bedroom. “You can relax,” he began, “it was a courier—” And stopped dead.
Christie had arranged herself artfully on the pillows like a houri, a sultry expression on her face. “Hey, Love Machine,” she said throatily as he entered. “Is that a canoe in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”
Gorgeous, ridiculous girl.
“This isn’t a canoe, honey,” he drawled. “This is a freaking ocean liner.”
Christie’s sultry expression broke into a grin, eyes lit up with laughter. “What is it with guys and size?” Then her gaze darted to the envelope in his hand. “A courier, you said?”
“Yeah.” He came over to the bed and sprawled beside her, holding out the envelope. “This came. It looks pretty important.”
She took it off him, her attention on the front where her name was written in a flowing, cursive script. Her expression changed, becoming pale and shuttered. Slowly he became aware that she’d tensed up, her posture hunched.
“No,” she said in a tight voice. “It’s not important.”
She made as if to throw it away but Joseph grabbed her by the wrist, frowning. What the hell was this about? All her earlier laughter and fun had drained away. Like a light had been turned off inside her.
“What is it? You’ve gone pale.”
“It’s nothing. Really. Nothing at all.”
His fingers tightened. “Bullshit.”
Christie remained silent a long moment, her mouth as thin as a mouth like hers could ever get. Then she said shortly, “It’s probably an invitation to my brother’s engagement party. No big deal.”
“If it’s no big deal then why are you so pale?”
“Because I hate parties.”
“You hate parties that much?”
Christie let out a long breath. “Yeah. Particularly when they involve my family.”
Oh yes. The brother who could do every sport. The father who thought his daughter would never learn to ride. The hard-faced mother he’d seen pictures of on the Internet. “Why? What’s wrong with your family?”
She pulled her hand out of his but didn’t move away. Instead she gazed down at the creamy surface of the envelope. “The only thing my mother cares about is looking good for other people, and my dad and my brother are only interested in how much money you earn and what your golf handicap is.”
Ah. Interesting. He shifted on the bed, rolling onto his side, elbow bent, head propped on hand. “And you hate that.”
Christie fiddled with the envelope. “Yeah. It’s not exactly like I fit in.”
“You want to fit in?”
An expression of contempt crossed her face. “Me? Ha. No way in hell.”
“So what’s the big deal then?”
She turned her face away. “You don’t really want to know. It’s not very interesting.”
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t tell me what I would and wouldn’t be interested in, okay? I’m not asking you because I’m not interested. You make me sound like some shallow idiot.”
Christie’s shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I don’t like talking about my stupid family.”
“They’re that bad?” How could they be worse than his? His father had been absent for most of his childhood and his mother had just been…absent.
The scattering of freckles across her cheek looked like gold dust against her pale skin. “They’re pretty awful. All they care about is the latest gossip, the latest party, and the size of your bloody bank account. They’re not interested in anything else.”
Joseph studied her, the tight