Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,48

be, though.” Joseph reached out, took her hands, letting the invite, by now a damp ball of paper, roll away. “If you wanted me to.”

Hope, small and fragile as a new spring flower, unfurled inside her. She tried to ignore it. “For my mother’s party, you mean?”

“For your mother’s party. For the next week. For the next couple of weeks even.”

And damn that hope. It began to bloom in her soul, not just a flower but a whole bloody garden. “N-not just a weekend?”

He raised her hands to his mouth. Kissed them. “For as long as you want me.”

Christie couldn’t look at him.

So much for not wanting a man in her life. So much for being happy, carefree, and single. Funny how one afternoon could change things. One afternoon with a man who paid attention. Who made her feel good about herself in a way no one else ever had.

She didn’t want to give that up. Not yet.

“Well, Naughtygirl? What do you say? Would you like to be my girlfriend? Make your mother drop dead in a faint as she sees the awesome specimen of manhood you’ve managed to bag yourself?”

She laughed, finally meeting his blue eyes. He was smiling, that sexy, impossible smile that made her breath catch. That turned her heart over and over inside her chest.

The smile that suddenly made her very glad to be Christie St. John.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’d love to.”

…

Christie pulled a comb through her hair, cursing as it caught in some of the extra frizzy bits. Nausea sat in her stomach though she tried not to take any notice of it. Pathetic to feel so sick about a stupid family party.

For most of the week she’d managed to forget all about it. There had been Ben calling her into his office to tell her he was going to offer her a series of in-depth pieces on the future of gaming and where the industry was headed. That had been awesome. And there had been the nights with Joseph himself. Nights spent building her computer a bit more or introducing him to Zombie Force. Once he’d taken her for a twilight ride up on the trails and that had been magical. She hadn’t even fallen off, not once. Nights spent in his bed where they didn’t sleep…

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t dread at the party that was making her feel sick. Maybe it was just sleep deprivation.

She frowned at the pale woman in the mirror with the huge green eyes and the dark circles underneath them. Man, her mother was going to have a field day.

The nausea roiled in her gut in response.

Christie bared her teeth at her reflection.

Then the doorbell rang and the nausea vanished as if it had never been.

Joseph.

Christie tried a decorous walk to the door but it wasn’t fast enough, so she dashed madly instead, pulling open the door, excited to see him and not caring that she was excited.

And then there he was, and her heart did a full three-sixty in her chest.

In a beautifully tailored dark suit, the blue in his tie reflecting the color of his eyes, he looked every inch the successful businessman.

A couple of weeks ago the sight of him would have made her want to turn tail and run. Now, as she met his gaze and he smiled, she felt like the moon had been delivered, neatly wrapped, straight to her doorstep. Inside, after he’d pulled her close for a breath-stealing kiss, he stepped back and surveyed her.

“Velvet Docs, Christie? Aren’t they way too upmarket?”

She looked down at her boots, her one concession to glamour. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing’s wrong with them. It’s the jeans and T-shirt I’m worried about.”

“There’s nothing wrong with them, either.”

“No, there isn’t. I’m just trying to figure out what it is you’re trying to prove.”

Christie scowled. “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

She scowled harder. “I don’t want to wear anything else. I’m not big on dresses.”

“You know I still dream about that black dress you wore the night we met, right?”

She blew out a breath. “An aberration.”

“Oh, sure. Come on, what’s wrong with dressing up?”

Plenty. A little nugget of defensiveness hardened inside her. Greg had done this to her once or fifty, tried to get her to wear dresses and heels. Made comments about her hair and how great she’d look if she’d bothered with makeup. It had been a subtle thing, different from her mother’s litany of criticisms so that she hadn’t been aware of what he’d been