She looked at him closely. Cocked her head, squinted some more. “Well, you do seem more relaxed.” Reaching out, she pushed the hair from his eyes. “I suppose sex can be a great healer.”
“I don’t need healing.” At her pained look, he regretted his snappish tone. Having introduced him to Kerry a couple of years ago, his sister still blamed herself for the crash and burn of his engagement.
“This isn’t your fault, Liv.”
“Really? I match my sorority sister up with my brother and then she f*ck
s him over by hooking up with my father and—”
“I know how it ended.” Recounting his humiliation was not on his agenda today. He redirected the focus of the conversation. “I’m trying to keep what’s going on here on the down low. You know what Flynn and Hunter would be like if they knew.”
She rolled her eyes. “Old women. Especially Flynn, that obnoxious shithead.”
Considering his sister seemed to spend all her time “plotting” with Flynn to get Brody laid, her vehemence sounded on the wrong side of strange. They’d never gotten along, so he supposed he should be grateful she’d put her dislike aside to make Brody happy.
“It’s no one else’s business, and as it’s short term, I’d rather keep it private. We clear?”
She winked. “Clear as chardonnay, bro.” He slammed the door on her laughing face.
Brody walked back into the kitchen, pondering for the millionth time this week how his life had gotten so complicated and why he wasn’t more upset about it. He found Emma with her face buried in her hands. He suspected she’d held this position since he left the room.
“It’s not as bad as all that.”
“Your sister thinks I’m a stripper. Even worse, I told her I was a stripper.”
“Yeah, I’m kind of curious about that.”
She threw both hands up in the air. “I panicked. I was so worried she’d find out I worked for you and how sleazy that was—”
“And telling her you’re a stripper named Chardonnay is so much classier.”
“This situation is getting worse and worse. What if she stops by the office?”
Today was Thursday, so they had two days to cover. “You won’t be there. You’ll be here, playing Chardonnay the Stripper.” He laughed, marveling at how much he was enjoying himself. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had this good a time with anything.
She slapped his chest, let her fingers linger, and dropped them. “Not funny.”
“Oh, Chardonnay, but it is.” He’d wanted to keep her here, outside the office, so he could explore this chemistry between them without the constriction of nosy coworkers and know-it-all partners. The circumstances had certainly conspired in his favor. “She’s here for the weekend, so for the next two days, you’ll be calling in sick. You’ll never see her because I’ll be going out to squire her about town.”
“You, your sister, and the F-Troop?”
“Ah, your nipples are pouting again.”
“In your dreams.” She folded her arms, hiding those beautiful, likely jealous nipples. “If I can’t be seen around the office, then what am I to do?”
“You’ll work from here, in my study.”
She touched a finger to her lips, considering this. “I can remote in to the network and work on the Crown Point files. You have three meetings this afternoon. I’ll call Serena with my best I’m-dying-of-the-flu impression and have her prep for those. The PowerPoints are ready. This could work except…”
Damn, he loved when she got all sexy-efficient. “Except?”
“Where will you be?”
Time to let his assistant know that working from home could be very, very productive.
“Right here with you until I need to head down for those meetings.” He fixed her with his best CEO stare. “Isn’t it time you headed to work, Ms. Strickland? Commute might be shorter, but that’s no reason to dawdle.”
Chapter Fourteen
Thirty minutes after she’d humiliated herself by announcing to Brody’s sister that she was a stripper named Chardonnay, Emma stood outside her boss’s study, raised her hand and clenched it. Making a fist reminded her how clammy her palms were, so she rubbed them against her new navy pin-striped skirt and tried again. The knock sounded loud. Final.
“Come in.”
Mr. Kane will see you now. After their close shave in the kitchen and all those fantasies he’d laid on her, the idea of spending the morning in such intimate proximity—working—drove her a little screwy. How was she going to get anything done? It would be so much easier if he went into the office and left her to compile the reports he needed.