Millionaire Boss, page 10
“You put ’em back?”
She turned to find him standing in the doorway, his hands braced low on his hips. “Yes,” she replied patiently. “Eat a banana instead.”
“I don’t want a banana. I want a Ding-Dong.”
His stubborn expression looked so much like that of a pouty-faced two-year-old, she couldn’t help but laugh.
He stepped into the room, his scowl deepening. “What’s so funny?”
Once she started laughing, she couldn’t seem to stop. She held her stomach with one hand while weakly waving the paint roller at him with the other. “You,” she finally managed to say.
He took another step toward her. “And what did I do that was so funny?”
“You didn’t do anything. It’s your face.”
He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth as if she’d suggested he had something on it. “What’s wrong with my face?”
She shook her head and dropped the paint roller into the tray, her laughter slowly fading. Plucking a rag from one of the ladder’s rungs, she wiped her hands. “Nothing…other than the fact that you look like a two-year-old all swelled up in a pout because he isn’t getting his way.”
“So I like Ding-Dongs. Big deal.”
“See?” she said, pointing to the arms he’d folded stubbornly across his chest. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“That pouty thing.” She tossed the rag aside and stooped to pick up the paint roller. “But believe me, you’re wasting your time trying that particular tactic with me. I’m immune to temper tantrums. I witnessed enough with my nieces and nephew to learn that the best defense is to just ignore them.”
“So you’re planning to ignore me?”
She lifted the roller high and ran it down the wall. “Uh-huh.”
“And you think that’ll make me forget about the Ding-Dongs?”
“Uh-huh.” She straightened, lifting the roller high for another swipe.
“Wrong, buffalo-breath.”
She whirled, her mouth dropping open. “Buffalo-breath!”
He folded his arms across his chest, smirking. “Yeah. Buffalo-breath. That’s what us two-year-olds do when pouting doesn’t work. We stoop to name calling.”
She pressed her lips together, turned her back on him and resumed her painting. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words shall never harm me.”
“I’m rubber and you’re glue, so whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”
She gave him a withering look over her shoulder. “How utterly childish.”
“I want my Ding-Dongs.”
She huffed a breath as she dragged the roller down the wall, trying her best to ignore him. “I told you I put them back on the shelf.”
“I want my Ding-Dongs.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she cried, and turned to drop the roller back into the tray. “We don’t have any Ding-Dongs. Now be a good boy and go eat a banana.”
“I don’t want a banana.”
“Well, we don’t have any Ding-Dongs, so you are just going to have to find something else to snack on.”
He took a step toward her. “All right.”
Penny eyed him suspiciously, not trusting his sudden capitulation. “All right, what?”
He grabbed her arm before she could dodge him and hauled her up against his chest. “All right,” he said, and began to nibble his way up her neck. “I’ll snack on something else.”
She batted at his head, laughing. “Stop that! I’m not a snack.”
“Mmm. I don’t know.” He nipped playfully at her earlobe. “You taste pretty good to me.”
A shiver chased down her spine. “Don’t,” she ordered, feeling the heat spreading quickly to her limbs.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do that. You’re distracting me, and I’ve got work to do.”
“Work?” He bent at the waist, tucked his shoulder into her stomach, then straightened and flipped her over his shoulder. “Work can wait,” he told her as he headed for the bedroom. “This can’t.”
Later that evening, Penny sat propped beside Erik in bed, wearing one of his T-shirts, while they watched a video movie. Their backs were supported by a cushiony mound of pillows, and a bowl of popcorn wobbled precariously on top of their entwined legs. On the bedside table, a half-empty bottle of wine continued to chill. She was surprised that she felt so at ease with him in such a short time.
“He did it.”
She dismissed his theory with a wave of her hand. “Too obvious.” She popped a kernel of popcorn into her mouth. “The sister is the murderer.”
He turned to look at her as if she’d just accused the pope of infidelity. “The sister?” At her nod, he snorted a laugh and gestured at the screen with his wineglass. “The sister had no motive.”
“Spoken like a true only child.”
Her wry comment won a frown. “You don’t have to have siblings to know a murderer when you see one.”
“True. But you do in order to understand why her sister might want her dead.”
He reared back to peer at her. “That sounds dangerously close to the voice of experience speaking.”
“It is.”
“You mean you’ve seriously considered murdering your brother?”
She puckered her mouth thoughtfully, then shook her head as she reached for the popcorn bowl and dragged it onto her lap. “No.” She fished through the bowl for an unpopped kernel and bit back a smile. “Although I have seriously considered rearranging his face on several occasions.”
Erik hooted a laugh. “I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you try that maneuver.”
Penny popped the kernel into her mouth and slanted him a frown as she chewed. “Are you questioning my athletic prowess?”
He gave her leg a patronizing pat. “Hate to bust your bubble, sweetheart, but there’s no way a little thing like you could overpower a man.”
“Oh, really?”
He set his glass aside, then shifted the bowl of popcorn onto his lap and turned his attention back to the television screen. “Yeah, really.”
In the blink of an eye, Erik found himself flat on his back on the floor and the popcorn bowl spinning crazily just out of reach. Dazed, he heaved himself up to his elbows and gave his head a shake, not sure what had happened.
Penny lay on her stomach, her chin propped on her hands and her feet kicked up behind her, smiling smugly at him over the side of the bed. “So a little thing like me couldn’t overpower a man, huh?”
Frowning, Erik pushed himself to his feet. “You blindsided me,” he grumbled. “Caught me off guard. Wouldn’t have been able to do that in a fair fight.”
“Who said anything about fighting fair? You merely stated that I couldn’t overpower a man.” She sat up and dusted off her hands as she settled back against the pillows. “You’re just miffed because I proved you wrong.”
“Get up.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “What?”
“Stand up and fight me fair and square.”
She sputtered a laugh. “Really, Erik. Do you honestly believe that I am going to fight with you?”
“What’s the matter?” he asked, goading her. “Afraid you’ll lose?”
She arched a brow in warning. “Don’t push your luck, buster. I was raised by an older brother and learned early on how to defend myself. Keep it up, and I might not go so easy on you the next time around.”
He grabbed her hand and dragged her to her feet. Positioning his fists before his face, he shifted his weight from foot to foot while punching the air between them. “Go ahead,” he dared her. “Take your best shot.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “This is ridiculous. I am not going to hit you.”
“What’s the matter, mouse? Afraid you’ll lose this time?”
She dropped her hands, fisting them at her sides, and he knew he’d hit a nerve. Going for broke, he gave her shoulder a shove, knocking her off balance. “Come on, mouse,” he said, taunting her. “Take your best shot. Let’s see how tough you really are.”
Furious that he’d called her a mouse when she’d struggled so hard to prove that she wasn’t, Penny doubled up her fists and led with a right.
Unfortunately, Erik’s counter move to block the punch was a little slow. Her fist connected hard just below his left eye, and he staggered back, stunned. His foot landed square in the middle of the empty popcorn bowl and stuck there. He stumbled back another step, trying to shake free of the container…but lost his balance and toppled over backward. On his way down his head struck the base of a chest of drawers, and he slammed his eyes shut, moaning, as pain shot up his skull.
When he opened his eyes, Penny was on her knees beside him, her face so close to his he couldn’t bring her into focus. Tears streamed down her cheeks and fell to splat against his bare chest.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed over and over again. “I didn’t want to hit you. Really I didn’t. You made me.”
He planted a weak hand against the middle of her chest and eased her back a little, giving himself the room he needed to sit up. “I’m okay,” he muttered, then groaned when pain shot from the base of his skull again. Feeling a trickle of moisture at his hairline, he reached behind him and laid a hand against the spot. When he drew his hand back, blood covered his fingers.
Penny shrank away, her eyes wide and staring, a hand clamped over her mouth. “I made you bleed. Oh, my God! I made you bleed!”
Erik pushed a palm against the floor and levered himself to his feet. “You didn’t make me bleed.” He gestured to the dresser behind him. “I hit my head when I fell.”
She rose shakily, her face as white as the popcorn that littered the floor around their feet. “But it’s my fault you fell. I knocked you down. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have hit your head.”
Scowling, Erik snatched a pillow from the bed and jerked off the case. He pressed the cloth to the back of his head, trying to stanch the flow of blood. “You didn’t knock me down. I tripped.”
“But you wouldn’t have tripped—”
“For God’s sake, Penny! It wasn’t your fault!” Moaning, he sank down on the side of the bed and held the cloth against the back of his head. “Just get me some ice, would you? And kill the guilt trip. You’re making my head hurt worse.”
She spun for the door. “Stay right there,” she ordered as she ran for the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”
More humiliated than hurt by Penny’s blow, Erik fell back against the pillows, nursing his manly pride.
Penny raced back into the room, carrying a plastic sandwich bag filled with chipped ice. She crawled onto the bed, slipped a hand behind his head and lifted it from the pillow. Easing down, she guided his head to her lap. “Here,” she murmured soothingly as she placed the pack of ice on the back of his head. “This will stop the bleeding and help keep down the swelling.”
Relieved that she was no longer blubbering apologies for having decked him, Erik settled his cheek on her thigh, closing his eyes as she stroked her hand over his brow and down his cheek.
Finding her touch soothing and oddly comforting, he nestled his cheek higher against the juncture of her legs. “That feels good,” he said with a sigh. He felt the tremble in her fingers and frowned, fearing she was tuning up again. “Don’t cry anymore, okay? I’m not hurt, and even if I was, it would have been worth it.”
Her hand stilled, and she sniffed back the telltale tears. “How so?”
He rolled his head to look at her over his shoulder. “’Cause I figure you feel guilty enough to go out and buy me some Ding-Dongs.”
Huffing a breath, she gave his head a push from her lap.
“Hey!” he cried, laughing. “Watch it. I’m hurt, remember?”
Immediately contrite, she drew his head back to her lap, though the “sorry” she offered sounded more grudging than sincere.
Smiling smugly, he nestled his cheek comfortably at the juncture of her thighs again. After a moment she resumed her soothing stroking, apparently having forgiven him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the attention.
“Stay the night.”
Her hand stilled midstroke. “What?”
He lifted his head to peer up at her. “Stay the night.”
“But…but I don’t have any pajamas.”
He dropped his head back to her lap. “Didn’t seem to bother you last night.”
“I…I need my toothbrush. It’s at my apartment. I cleaned my teeth with my finger this morning, but proper dental care requires a toothbrush.”
He chuckled as he snuggled his cheek closer to her warmth and closed his eyes again. “That’s okay, buffalo breath. I have an extra one you can use.”
The overnight Erik suggested developed into an open-ended living arrangement that Penny found difficult to explain, even to her best friend, Suzy, who had demanded a return to their old habit of meeting for lunch on Fridays.
Penny was already seated at the trendy downtown restaurant when Suzy arrived late, as usual, and wearing leopard-print capri pants and a black halter top. If her choice of attire wasn’t enough to draw every eye in the restaurant her way as she tottered to their table on four-inch platform sandals, the silver belly button ring in her naval and the red silk scarf with which she’d tied up her hair—currently a Marilyn Monroe shade of blond—certainly would have done the job.
Though Penny didn’t share Suzy’s penchant for bizarre clothing and, at times, even more bizarre behavior, Penny understood that her friend used them to disguise her insecurities. Fast friends since the first grade, they had always shared their deepest, darkest secrets…a part of their relationship that, at the moment, Penny wished didn’t exist.
“So are you officially living together now?” Suzy asked.
Penny pushed her Cobb salad around her plate, avoiding Suzy’s gaze. “Not exactly.”
“Well, what would you call it, then? You’ve been staying with him for over two weeks. I know, because I’ve tried calling you both day and night and always get your machine.”
“I still have my apartment,” Penny hedged.
“A technicality,” Suzy said, dismissing the explanation with a careless flap of her hand. “Does Jase know?”
“About what?”
Suzy dropped her fork. “What are we talking about here? The Lakers’ current rankings? We’re talking about your living arrangements! Now, answer the question. Does Jase know?”
“He…well…no,” Penny finally admitted, her cheeks flaming. “I haven’t told him yet.”
Suzy buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Lord,” she moaned. “When he finds out, he’s going to blame all this on me.”
Penny knew Suzy’s prediction wasn’t an exaggeration. Jase would blame her friend, just as he’d blamed Suzy for Penny’s decision to leave the ranch. Just as he’d blamed Suzy for everything Penny had done since the first grade that he considered an act of rebellion. “Don’t worry,” she assured her friend. “I’ll tell him you had nothing to do with it.”
Suzy dropped her hands to her lap, revealing a scowl. “Yeah, like he’d even hear you. He’s going to be hauling your fanny back to the ranch so fast he won’t hear anything but screaming tires.”
Penny shuddered, knowing Suzy wasn’t stretching the truth by much. If Jase were to discover where she was living and who she was living with, he would haul her back home…but not before extracting a piece of Erik’s hide as punishment for stealing his sister’s innocence and ruining her pristine reputation.
Wincing, she glanced up at Suzy. “You won’t tell him, will you?”
Suzy pressed the tip of one lime-green lacquered nail to her chest. “Me?” she asked, then snorted a bitter laugh. “Yeah, right. Like I’d tell the bear anything, much less something that would jeopardize your happiness.” Her expression melted to one of concern and she reached across the table to close a hand over Penny’s. “You are happy, aren’t you?”
Penny laughed and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Definitely. Erik’s everything I’ve always dreamed of and more. He’s handsome, intelligent and so much fun to be with.”
Suzy refused to be convinced. “What about in bed? How does he rate there?”
“Suzy!”
“That bad, huh?”
“Bad!” Penny echoed, then clamped her lips together and glanced around at the other diners. After making certain that no one was listening to their conversation, she leaned across the table, but lowered her voice. “He’s fantastic. Unbelievable. Every woman’s erotic fantasy come to life.” She sank back in her chair and fanned her face with her napkin. “Just thinking about him makes me…well, you know.”
Anxious to hear the details, Suzy scooted her chair closer to the table. “That good, huh?”
“Better than anything even you can imagine. But it’s so much more than just the sex,” Penny added, her expression turning dreamy. “Erik is…he’s…” Unable to think of a word that would adequately describe him, she sighed and said, “Perfect.”
Suzy drew back in alarm. “You’re not falling in love with this guy, are you?”
Penny sputtered a laugh. “I’ve always been in love with Erik. You know that.”
“Yeah,” Suzy said uneasily. “But that was just smoke. An illusion. A teenage dream you’ve clung to. But this,” she said, gesturing wildly. “This sounds totally realistic. Fatal. And what about him? Does he feel the same way about you?”
Penny caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m not sure,” she replied uncertainly, then, seeing the storm building in Suzy’s eyes, quickly added, “I know he cares for me. He just isn’t one to express his emotions. You see,” she explained, hoping to smooth Suzy’s ruffled feathers, “his parents had little to do with him while he was growing up, leaving his care up to their household staff. As a result he never learned how to properly convey his feelings.”
Suzy tossed her hands up in the air. “Would you listen to yourself! You’re making excuses for him.”
“Oh, but I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. And if you’re not careful, he’s going to break your heart. I’ve been around enough men to know that when one avoids using the L word around a woman, especially a woman he’s sleeping with, it usually means one of two things—he’s either married and has a wife tucked away somewhere, or he has a problem with the big C word. Commitment,” she added, to make certain Penny understood. “Which means he’s just stringing her along, because she’s an easy lay.
