Unbound: (InterMix) (32 page)

Caught off guard, I deflected. “How little?”

Another smile, a deeper one with a flash of teeth. “Cute. But I’m not imagining it,
am I? There’s something here,” he said, wiggling his fingers between our chests. He
stared pointedly at the Red Wings logo on my shirt. “Plus you clearly dressed to seduce
me.”

“If you say so.”

He winced like I’d just tried to knee him in the balls. “Okay, we can be like that.”

Behind whatever blank expression I’d managed to slap on my face, my common sense and
my libido were rolling around, pulling each other’s hair, slapping and spitting and
fighting to come out on top. Or to come out underneath Kelly Robak, in the case of
my libido. Luckily it ended in a draw.

“No, there might be something,” I admitted. “But not the kind of something I want
to do anything about with a colleague. Not my first week at a new job.” My pussy had
added the caveat, opportunist that it was.

Kelly’s expression went cool, more calm acceptance than bruised ego, I hoped. He nodded.
“Understood.”

And with that, what could have been quite a memorable twenty-eighth birthday present
rose and headed for the exit, bouncing the mattress beneath my butt.

“Enjoy your flowers.”

I followed, frowning. “Wait. Did you really come here thinking you’d get laid? Off
some stolen lilies and thirty seconds’ smooth-talking?”

Another smile. “Haven’t known you long enough to have expectations. Maybe I’ll try
back again with roses sometime. I’ll be sure to bring a receipt.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I said through a laugh. The fucking nerve. But I was only half-insulted,
the rest a mixture of flattered and amused.

He opened the door and I held it. With the possibility of witnesses strolling past
in the hall, we both shrugged into semblances of friendly professionalism.

“Happy birthday.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He gripped the door frame and leaned in real, real close, close enough to kiss. But
his lips offered nothing but a smarmy-ass grin. “This is your room, so I’m letting
you get your way—”

“
Letting
me?”

“Come by my place some weekend and maybe I’ll show you mine.”

“Your way doesn’t sound like it takes
no
for an answer.”

“You’re welcome to find out.”

“Good night, Kelly.”

He straightened. “See you beneath me on the gym floor tomorrow.”

Eyes narrowed, I watched him disappear around the corner, listening until the sound
of his boots clomping down the steps faded to the thrum of my thumping pulse.

I shut the door, opening and closing my fists to quell a faint shaking.

He’d just said all that, hadn’t he? Not those cocky parting quips—that there was
something between us
. Something he wasn’t opposed to acting on.

Was I opposed?
Yes. Definitely. Probably.

I didn’t know. I wasn’t even sure what Larkhaven’s policy was, on office romance or
whatever. Ward romance. Not that Kelly Robak seemed the type to let institutional
mandates dictate whom he may or may not deign to make his conquest.

And he
so
was the conquesty sort.

That settled it—I would
not
be acting on anything with Kelly. No contact beyond the bounds of restraint training.
From what he’d told me at the bar and just now by the door, he probably treated women
like gas stations, in and out and on his way, thanks for the lube job. I glared at
the flowers he’d left behind, annoyed that he’d taken me for someone whose professional
dignity could be bought for a secondhand bouquet.

“Nice try, Robak,” I told the flowers.

I went down the hall to scrub my face and brush my teeth, deciding it had been one
of my lousier birthdays. And if I went to sleep imagining Kelly restraining me with
his shirt off, it was entirely by accident.

Before becoming a purveyor of smart erotic romance,
Cara McKenna
worked as a record store bitch, a lousy barista, a decent designer, and an over-enthusiastic
penguin handler. She loves writing sexy, character-driven stories about strong-willed
men and women who keep each other on their toes . . . and bring one another to their
knees.

Cara now writes full-time and lives north of Boston with her bearded husband. When
she’s not trapped in her own head, she can usually be found in the kitchen, the coffee
shop, or jogging around the nearest duck-filled pond.

Connect Online:

caramckenna.com

twitter.com/caramckenna