“No, you’re lying, because I’m not—” I shut my mouth so hard that my teeth click.
Emmett waits a beat. “Not what?”
“Nothing.” I refuse to discuss my vagina’s moisture level with my boss on a Sunday morning when I’m naked except for panties under the sheet. Nope, no way.
What I need to do is find out why he’s here, and why I’m in the state I’m in. But first, I need to make myself feel human again.
“Could you give me some privacy?” I say with all the cool nonchalance I can muster.
“Sure, I can do that.” He gives me a small smirk, then gets out of my armchair and shuts the door behind him.
I sit up and immediately regret moving so fast. It feels like I’m going to die. My brain seems to actually jiggle inside my skull.
Isn’t alcohol supposed to make your brain shrink? Okay, this is the last time I’m going to get greedy when somebody offers to pay for my drinks. There is no free lunch.
I cautiously make my way to the bathroom, pee, brush my teeth and shower. Thank God Sasha’s out of town. Normally it’d be extremely rude, but I hope Emmett leaves without a word. But given my luck, I doubt that’ll happen. I squeeze the water out of my hair, then towel it dry, since I don’t have time to do anything with it right now. There’s no way I’m letting Emmett roam free in my living room and kitchen. He might discover something to find fault with—whether with me or Sasha. And then there will be the enormous inconvenience of some new “training” project. I swear, the man can suck the time out of anyone’s life. He’s like a boss who’s really a time-vampire. Bossferatu.
But before I can face him again, I need to come up with a strategy. I can’t ask him to tell me the truth about last night because he can just make up whatever he wants. He already claimed I was sexually into him, which I don’t believe. Not even a little.
Alcohol has never made me want to sleep with a guy. Ever. It relaxes me, and it makes me laugh more than usual, but that’s about it. Emmett’s just making stuff up to get back at me for seeing him masturbate, then screwing him and running out. I thought he wanted to tacitly ignore that particular incident, but he must’ve changed his mind and decided to go on the offensive.
Which…isn’t a bad idea. I can go on the offensive, too, and declare nothing happened last night. It’s his word against mine. I shouldn’t be naïve enough to trust that he’s going to be honest about anything. He’s the kind of boss who tells me my perfectly fine Excel models need adjustments, just for fun.
Satisfied for the moment with my plan of action, I put on a fitted shirt, denim shorts and flip-flops and step out of the bedroom. Emmett’s large, masculine self is in the kitchen. He braces his hands against the edge of the sink and gives me a small scowl. “There’s nothing to eat in this place.”
“And you’re surprised?”
“Well…yeah. Most women have something in their fridge.”
“Most women probably have time to go to the grocery store and buy stuff.” I give him a look. “They probably also have time to cook it.”
“That explains why you’ve lost weight since starting the job,” he mutters.
“I’m surprised you noticed. I only lost, like, two or three pounds.”
“Two or three you didn’t need to lose.” He sighs.
“Well, don’t make it sound like I’m starving myself on purpose. It’s your fault.” Normally, I wouldn’t point such things out, but I have less than eight weeks left at GrantEm Capital. I view it as a public service to the person who’ll be filling my position.
“Still, you should— Wait a minute. My fault?” He looks at me like I told him the moon is made of cheesecake.
Is this man for real? “Yes! I barely have time to sleep, much less eat.”
His eyebrows arch. “Are you accusing me of overworking you?”
“Ding, ding, ding!”
“Nonsense. I just make sure you spend your time productively.”
“Yeah, making you money.”
“No, making us money. Which is productive.”
Productive meaning profitable. I know corporate bullshit-speak. It’s one of the things you learn while getting your MBA.
Besides, he seems annoyed as he looks around my kitchen, and I’m tired of this visual censure. “I have some coffee if you want.”
“What I want is food with my coffee.”