Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,67

whisper.

And a hand closed around Christie’s heart in sudden foreboding. Oh, God, no. It couldn’t be.

“It’s Joseph Ashton!” Claire continued, sounding like she was just about to burst apart with excitement. “You know, the Ashton Tech guy!”

Oh yes, Christie knew. And no, she didn’t want to see him. Not now. Not ever. She opened her mouth to say those exact words but just as her brain sent the command to her vocal cords, the door to the Total Tech office burst open and Joseph bloody Ashton was standing on the threshold.

Christie felt a wrecking ball land on her stomach.

He was in ratty old sweatpants and a faded black T-shirt, his hair standing up on end as if he’d run his hands through it one too many times, a big white bag held in one hand. He stood uncharacteristically motionless, his eyes glittering like Indian sapphires as they searched for and found her, the air itself slowing down and becoming thick and dense with tension as he stared at her.

The other guys in the office began to realize something was up, heads turning toward the door where Joseph stood, conversations faltering, then falling silent.

“Christie?” he said, the familiar sound of his melted chocolate voice making her shiver.

The collective gaze of the entire office switched to where she sat, rooted to the spot at her desk.

She swallowed, her throat constricting. Her whole body trembled with the need to throw herself into Joseph’s arms and hold on. But she wouldn’t. Regardless of why he was here, he’d told her exactly where he stood on that particular matter. And besides, so what if he didn’t love her? She didn’t care. She really didn’t.

“J-Joseph,” Christie said, trying to sound businesslike. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t seem to notice that every single person in the office was now looking at him, his gaze locked on her. “I need to see you.”

“Oh.” Tearing her eyes from his, Christie moved her stapler and shifted her keyboard more to the center of her desk. “W-well, as you can see, I’m a little b-busy right now so—”

“Please.”

The raw need in his voice made her catch her breath. Her shaking hand shifted a block of Post-it notes.

I don’t care why you’re here. I don’t care what you say.

She gritted her teeth, staring firmly at her computer screen and not at him. Or the assembled masses currently gaping at her from their desks. Christie made a minute adjustment to the placement of her mouse. “I r-really am very b-busy…”

“Please, Christie. Don’t send me away.” An echo of pain in the words. An echo finding an answer in her own heart.

She looked up and found him standing near her desk, looking down at her with such intensity her throat clogged up and the words of denial she’d been going to say vanished from her head.

“I’m sorry,” Joseph said hoarsely into the silence, as if he didn’t know fifteen other people were watching him. As if he and Christie were alone. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that. You deserve… God, you deserve so much better.”

Tears pricked her eyes. Oh, bugger, she was going to cry. Right here at her desk with all her work colleagues staring at her.

“Joseph,” she began.

But he ignored her, dropping the white bag on the floor and stepping up to her desk. Putting his hands on the edges of it, leaning forward to look right into her eyes. “You deserve a better man than me, Christie St. John. You know that, right?”

Her heart seemed to stop. “I-I-I—”

“You deserve someone richer. Kinder. Someone who’ll never let you down. Who’ll never hurt you. Christ—” he gave a short laugh “—you deserve a man who can at least concentrate for more than ten seconds at a time.”

“Joseph—”

“But the thing is, you won’t find a man who loves you as much as I do.”

The entire office was silent. You could have heard the rustle of a fly’s wing.

Somewhere someone started clapping but was hurriedly shushed by someone else.

Christie was too busy staring at Joseph, the words hitting her like a punch to the stomach. Forgetting about the crowd of people watching this with fascination, she said in a thin, reedy voice, “You l-love me? But you told me that—”

“I know. I was wrong.” Joseph’s blue eyes never left hers. “I told myself I didn’t. Because I was afraid, Christie. I don’t deserve you.”

“Ahem.” Marisa, who had been standing behind Christie’s desk, gave them both a meaningful look. “I hate