Our Little Secret - Page 15

‘Which bit?’

‘All of it. The laughing, the distracting, the not telling me who you were last night.’

‘In my defence, last night I was a little distracted.’

I drag in a flustered breath. ‘You were distracted?’

‘You were naked.’

‘You were naked.’

‘You were naked first.’

‘Oh, my God.’ I shake my head, waving a frantic hand around me. ‘I can’t even believe we’re arguing about this.’

‘I prefer to call it a debate.’

‘A what?’ I stare up at him, wide-eyed and I know I truly must be flushing scarlet, but inside I’m torn between wanting to jump his bones, put him in his place over not fessing up over his identity sooner and running the other way before I do anything that has the power to detract from Dani’s special week.

‘A debate. I don’t argue.’

He’s so resolute, I frown. ‘You never argue?’

‘Never.’

My frown deepens. ‘Never ever?’

He chuckles. ‘Never ever. It’s a waste of breath. And as for the debates, I always win in the end.’

His smile is so cocksure that it bolsters me, giving me the mental slap I need. ‘Is that so?’

It’s a rhetorical question. I know he means it; I can read it in his stance. Even half-naked he has an air of authority, a don’t-mess-with-me attitude that speaks of many years at the top, of being the boss of his d

omain.

And I’m not about to feed that mammoth ego.

I fist my hands on my hips and focus on what I’m really here for.

‘Well, Mr I’m-Always-Right, we have an issue that needs fixing—so if you’re done with your morning exercise, and our debate, we have your mother to sort.’

‘My mother?’

He curses under his breath and I know I have his attention now. The right attention. The kind of attention that keeps us clear of the teasing and the flirting so that Dani can enjoy herself without worrying about her mother.

‘I’m going to need a shower for this.’

I swallow, or gulp, rather. Why does my mind have to project the image of him under the jets, all soaped up?

‘Yes, you shower, and I’ll... I’ll...’

‘Come to my room. Top of the stairs, turn left, last door on your right. Ten minutes.’

‘Your room?’ He’s already moving off and I stare after him. He can’t be serious.

‘Ten minutes.’ He looks back at me just long enough to add, ‘Don’t worry. I promise I’ll be dressed appropriately by then.’

I don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning as he walks away now. And I shouldn’t be smiling too. But I am. I press a hand over the excited thrum in my lower belly and curse my body for misbehaving.

Tags: Rachael Stewart Romance
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