Talking Dirty with the CEO

chapter Eleven


Christie hunched over her computer and tried to concentrate on the idea she’d had for an article on vintage computers. Nostalgia was always popular, and vintage had its own cool. She hoped Ben would go for it. She’d already decided to include a step-by-step guide on how to rebuild something like her Arkon.

Anyway, concentrating on the idea was way better than the other subject her mind had refused to let go of: Joseph bloody Ashton.

After his disappearance on Sunday morning, she’d sent him a couple of texts asking him what had happened. His response had been late in coming and she hadn’t received it until that night, just a message saying he’d had to go see his sister and that he had some work stuff to do, which meant he couldn’t see her.

She’d been a touch disappointed but she understood. His work was important.

The following day she’d sent him a good-morning text, asking him if he wanted to come over for takeout and a resumption of their Star Trek: The Next Generation marathon. But all she’d gotten back was a terse refusal. Again with the work excuse.

She couldn’t understand it. He’d been so caring the night of her parents’ party. Supporting her all through it and then, back at his apartment, making love to her, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go. Yet now…this. Terse, three-word texts.

Tuesday her texts had gone unanswered completely, even the one offering to bring over a sheepskin rug and a garter belt. Which had hurt. So she hadn’t sent him anything else.

Wednesday…?

She glanced down at her phone again.

Wednesday, still no response. No nothing.

She’d bitten the bullet that morning and tried calling him, but it kept switching to voice mail. And since she’d left two messages already, she decided not to leave another. That would be way too pathetic. And needy. And desperate.

And she wasn’t any of those things, was she? Not after what had happened at her parents’ party.

No, after that night she was strong and sure of herself. Confident.

She didn’t need him. She didn’t need any man.

You were amazing.

The words on the screen blurred and she swallowed, her throat gone painfully tight.

Oh, who was she kidding? She was pathetic and needy and desperate.

And she needed him.

Why hadn’t he called her? Why hadn’t he responded to any of her texts? Why was he ignoring her? It had been four days. Surely he couldn’t have been that busy at work?

“You look miserable,” Marisa observed, pausing beside Christie’s desk on her way to the kitchenette. “Trouble in paradise?”

Christie had told Marisa about Joseph, trying and failing not to bend her ear about him every second she got. But she didn’t want to talk about him now. Especially when she didn’t even know why he hadn’t bothered to contact her.

“No.” Christie stabbed her mouse button and accidentally deleted a whole page of text. She cursed. “Everything’s fine.”

“Oh, sure.” Marisa perched on the edge of the desk. “Come on, tell your old pal Marisa. I’ve had no gossip from you at all lately and I’m getting desperate.”

Christie tried to ease the tension from her shoulders. “It’s nothing, Mar.”

But her friend knew her far too well. “It’s not nothing. You’re biting your lip like there’s no tomorrow and if you’re not careful you’ll lose mountain climbers in that crevasse between your eyebrows.”

The words on Christie’s screen began to blur again. Dammit, those weren’t tears. They weren’t.

“It’s really nothing,” she said, hoping her voice was steady. “Joseph isn’t answering my texts and I can’t get hold of him. I’ve left messages but…” She stopped, her voice starting to slide all over the place like a toddler wearing ice skates.

“But he hasn’t responded?”

Christie looked down at her hands. Yep, same old hands. Except they were blurry, too. Hell, that did mean tears. Either that or she needed her eyes checked. She blinked. Hard. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Perhaps he’s just busy.”

“Yeah, perhaps.”

There was a silence.

“Chris?” Marisa said softly. “Please tell me you haven’t fallen for him.”

No, she hadn’t fallen for him. Of course not.

Oh no, you’ve just plummeted off the side of Everest.

Crap. May as well admit what she’d been ignoring the whole week.

“Yeah,” she said thickly. “I think I have.”

The knowledge settled down inside her heart. Inside her soul. Completely and totally inescapable.

She was in love with Joseph Ashton. The guy who’d left her bed without a word and who was currently ignoring her texts and not returning her calls.

What wonderful freaking timing.

Marisa said nothing for a long moment, then muttered a filthy curse under her breath that had something to do with men having excrement in their cranial cavities. Then she said, “So what are you doing sitting here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve fallen for this guy, who and I’m sorry, St. John, but for the record he sounds like a douche. And yet you’re just letting him get away with not calling? Are you really going to let him treat you that way?”

Christie looked up at her. Marisa’s blue eyes were blazing with defensive anger.

“Don’t you let him treat you like that,” her friend said. “You’re worth ten of him.”

And despite her misery, Christie almost smiled. For all her faults, Marisa was loyal to the core and fiercely protective of her friends. But Joseph wasn’t what Marisa thought of him.

Yes, he was rich, successful, and just the sort of guy her parents adored.

But he was also kind. And tender. And complicated. And fascinating. And made her feel as if she could do anything she set her mind to.

Which meant she had to go and find him.

As it had the night at her parents’ house, a deep calm descended on her.

Yeah, no more sitting around waiting for him to call. No more denying she needed him. Denying she wanted him. She was over that, she was done.

It was time to go out and tell him exactly what she did want.

She pushed her chair back, the movement making Marisa’s eyes widen.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Christie grabbed her bag. “Can you cover me with Ben?”

“Uh, sure. Where are you going?”

She grinned. “I’m going to tell Joseph Ashton I want more than one night. More than one weekend. I’m going to tell him I want the rest of the freaking year. At the very least!”

Christie headed straight to the offices of Ashton Technology. The stylish foyer was incredibly intimidating, but she made herself approach the receptionist, some icy blonde with a “don’t mess with me” face.

The woman took Christie in, from the top of her untidily pulled back ponytail, down over her “What Would McGyver Do?” T-shirt and jeans, her favorite black biker boots.

“Can I help you?” she asked in frigid tones.

Christie put on the expression she used when kicking alien butt. “Yeah. I need to see Mr. Ashton.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but—”

“I’m afraid Mr. Ashton doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.”

Christie lifted her chin. “He’ll see me.”

“I hardly think so.”

“Dude, are you willing to bet on that?” She folded her arms. “Ring him. Tell him Christie St. John is here to see him. He’ll be annoyed if he finds out I’ve been turned away.”

The blonde eyed her. Then, clearly viewing Joseph’s displeasure as the lesser of the two evils, she picked up the phone, spoke a few words, then ushered Christie toward one of the elevators.

Christie wasn’t relieved. If anything she felt sick, her determination seeping away. Because it meant Joseph was here and maybe he’d had his phone with him, and had seen every single one of her desperate calls. Her desperate texts. Had seen them, then ignored them.

Nausea turned over inside her as she stepped into the elevator.

No. Of course he wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t that type of guy. Perhaps he’d been in meetings all morning. Been in meetings for the last three days. Yeah, that was it. Perhaps he hadn’t had time to check his messages. Or something.

In which case her turning up out of the blue was going to look really pathetic.

Christie swallowed, debating whether or not to just turn tail and leave. But then the doors closed and she was heading up.

Right. So she was committed now. But that was okay. There was the whole being-in-love-with-him thing and he needed to know that. Yeah, he did.

She didn’t know what to expect when she stepped out of the elevator. Maybe a huge corner office, a monolithic desk, and at the very least a piece of minimalist but heinously expensive sculpture.

But what she got was a large open area with long desks, beanbags scattered everywhere, people hanging around chatting in huddles or working together at the desks. Some had laptops, some had desktops, and some were fiddling with touch-screen tablets.

The whole place had a real energy to it. A buzz. Kind of like Joseph himself in many ways.

She was shown to his office by a guy wearing a Led Zep T-shirt and skater shoes, who left her outside the door with a low, “I’d watch it. He’s in a bad mood,” warning.

Christie set her shoulders, bracing herself. Yeah, well, she was in a bad mood now, too. So he could damn well suck it up.

A rhythmic thumping noise came from inside the office. Odd. She took a breath and pushed open the door.

The only thing about Joseph’s office that met her expectations was its size. It was, indeed, large. His desk sat in one corner, facing away from the huge windows, the top of it scrupulously neat. As though no one ever touched it. A treadmill stood set up in another corner. In the middle of the room sat a huge, squashy black couch with a coffee table next to it, the detritus of a whole day’s worth of coffee mugs on it.

Joseph was over by the windows, walking back and forth, talking on his phone. In jeans and a black casual shirt, he had a small red rubber ball in his hand and as he walked, he bounced the ball off the back wall of his office, caught it, then bounced it again. Over and over.

Christie stopped dead, watching him.

Oh, he was so damn gorgeous. Pacing up and down with all the lithe, animal grace of a big cat. Magnetic. Charismatic.

His blue gaze glanced over and she met it, felt the charge between them like a power surge.

Her breath caught, her mouth gone bone-dry.

Joseph didn’t take his eyes from hers as he continued with his phone call for a few moments. Then he ended it, put the phone in his pocket, and tossed the ball in his hands while he looked at her. The expression on his face told her nothing.

“So, what did you want to see me about?” The words sounded flat.

“I-I-I…” Crap, the stuttering was back. She swallowed, tried again. “Y-you’ve been a bit quiet these past couple of days. I wondered where you’d gotten to. I sent some texts…”

“Yeah, I got them.” His phone pinged and he pulled it out of his pocket again, glancing down at the screen. “Hey, look, can we talk about this later? I’m kind of busy here.”

He did look busy. Busy and distracted.

Doubt suddenly descended like a ten-ton weight, her earlier determination deserting her.

He had a point. What was she doing here? He’d gotten her texts and clearly he was too busy to answer them. Maybe she should just go back to work and wait. He’d get to her when he was ready, right?

Her jaw tightened. “Oh…um…sure,” she said. “So you’ll call me tonight, then?”

He didn’t look up, his attention on his phone. “Whatever. Make an appointment next time, okay?” Then he turned back to the windows, raising his phone to his ear, making another call.

An appointment. He wanted her to make an appointment. As though she was a stranger who wanted to talk to him about business. Not someone he’d held in his arms. Not someone he’d made love to.

Ice began to creep through her veins. She felt dismissed. Like a child told off by the headmaster, then expected to make her way back to the classroom.

She took a breath, wanting to say something snarky and sarcastic. Then leave, slamming the door behind her.

But a tiny, hard lump of pride stopped her.

How dare he do this to her? As if their time together had meant nothing.

Because it hadn’t meant nothing. She was in love with him. Freaking love.

She straightened as the spark of anger became a flame, licking up inside her. She’d been dismissed many times in her life, but to have this man do it to her was the one thing she just couldn’t bear. And she knew if she let him she’d regret it. Forever. She knew it as surely as she knew the layout of Zombie Force level one.

Her hands curled into fists as she strode over to where Joseph stood with his stupid phone. “I want to talk to you,” she said. Loudly.

He frowned, not bothering to look at her, talking to whoever was on the other end.

“I want to talk to you now,” she insisted.

Joseph shook his head as if he was shaking off an annoying insect, beginning to turn away from her again.

Christie lost her temper. “Now, Joseph!” She whipped his phone out of his hand and stabbed the disconnect button before he could do anything about it.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, making a grab at the phone.

She chucked it onto the couch, out of his reach, and stood in front of him, adrenaline pumping through her, shaking with a strange combination of rage and fear and—weirdly—excitement. He glared at her, eyes glittering in the light, anger stamped on his handsome face.

And had she been the Christie of three weeks ago, she would have run. Would have turned tail and vanished out the door.

But she wasn’t that Christie any more.

She was strong. She was beautiful. She was brave.

And she was in love with him.

“What do you want?” he demanded. “I’m extremely busy.”

Behind her, his phone chirped happily and his gaze flicked to where it sat on the couch.

Damn him. Fueled by an assertiveness she hadn’t known she possessed, Christie reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing his gaze back to hers again. His eyes widened as they met hers.

“Don’t dismiss me like a child, Joseph Ashton,” she said. “I want to talk to you.” Beneath her fingers his skin felt warm, rough with stubble.

He stared at her, his focus sharpening. “What about?” He didn’t pull away, letting her hold him, and she couldn’t help moving her thumb over his skin, couldn’t help brushing it over his lower lip, the softness in contrast to the roughness of his jaw.

His breath caught. She heard it. And it made the anger inside her, the fear, the doubt, turn into something else.

“What about, Christie?” he repeated, a rough edge to his voice, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

“About the little fact that you walked out on me three days ago without a bloody word. And now you won’t answer my calls or my texts. What the hell is going on?”

…

Joseph stared down at her, looking into big green eyes full of anger and, underneath it, a fearful kind of hope. Her fingers on his jaw sent sparks of electricity through him, his body tightening, ignoring the brain that told it their little affair was over. Oh, no, his body disagreed most strenuously.

And that only added to his temper.

The fact she was even here, filling up his office with her scent and her passionate, stubborn presence, making him want all the things he knew he couldn’t give her, pissed him off so much he could barely speak.

Since he’d left Jude’s apartment three days ago he’d been trying to think of what he wanted to say to Christie. How he would end it between them. And every time he thought he knew, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Couldn’t bring himself to make the move that would let her go.

Procrastination when it came to things that were emotionally difficult for him was another ADHD problem. But he’d never had this issue when it came to calling it off with a woman.

Oh no, it had always been easy. Painless.

Not with Christie. With her it was neither easy nor painless.

For three days he’d listened to her calls. Seen every one of her texts. Felt like the biggest bastard in the world. Knowing that calling her back and telling her it was over was what he needed to do.

Yet still he hadn’t managed to do it. The thought hurt in ways he’d never anticipated.

Joseph reached down and closed his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away. “The night of your parents’ party I was supposed to meet my sister for dinner.”

She frowned. “Oh. Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It was her birthday.”

“Joseph—”

“But I wasn’t there, was I? I was with you instead. Because I forgot about her.”

Color crept into her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop bloody apologizing. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.” Anger twisted inside him, bright and sharp.

“But if you hadn’t been with me—”

“Stop it,” he interrupted, harsh and unable to prevent it. “The fault isn’t with you. It’s with me.” He took a breath. “I’ve got an ADHD-type thing, which means I get distracted easily. I also have difficulty with remembering things. Like important dates.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine, okay?”

Christie stared at him. “ADHD? That’s attention deficit—”

“Attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder.”

“But I thought only kids had it?”

“No. Adults, too. I usually have reminders and things in my phone and at work to help keep me on track. But of course that relies on me actually checking my phone.” Which he hadn’t done. Watching her with her parents, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else.

Her throat moved. “I distracted you that night.”

Joseph turned away, going over to the windows, pausing, then continuing on down to the end of the office and back again. He wanted to tell her that she hadn’t and that it didn’t matter, that Jude was used to him forgetting things. But both of those things were lies. And he couldn’t lie to her. Christie deserved more than that from him.

He turned back to her. “Yeah,” he said bluntly. “You did. Jude’s my little sister and she’s put up with my crap for years. And I hate…disappointing her.”

“I—I could come with you and explain things to her?” Christie’s face had gone pale.

He gave a short, harsh laugh. “Thanks, honey, I but I don’t need you to make my excuses for me.”

An awkward silence fell.

Her expression was full of sympathy. As if she wanted to hug him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“But you’re angry.”

“You’re goddamned right I’m angry. I’ve been letting my sister down for years and I hate it.”

Red lashes, the color shot with gold, fluttered over her pale skin. “If it makes any difference I’m glad you came with me last night. I couldn’t…couldn’t have faced my parents without you.”

“Bullshit, Christie. That strength, it’s been inside you all along. You would have found it yourself one day.”

She took a step toward him. “Maybe. Or maybe not. But you were the one who showed me it was there.”

On the couch his phone beeped again. Another reminder. But he didn’t even bother looking at it this time.

Christie’s gaze had a liquid glint to it. And she was looking at him the way some women did, as if he was everything they ever wanted and more.

And he knew it was too late. That he was going to hurt her.

He turned again, pacing away from her, going over to the windows. His hands squeezed the ball. Squeezed hard. “I say a lot of things, Christie. Most of which I hardly even pay attention to myself.”

He could feel her behind him, the familiar scent of lavender and musk surrounding him. It made him ache with longing.

“You didn’t mean them, then?” An underlying thread of pain in her voice.

He wanted to say no. Anything that would push her away. Because he couldn’t handle this tightness in his chest. This ache in his throat.

It would be easier to deny it. To cut her off now. Be cruel. Be harsh. So that she wouldn’t ever come near him again.

But the thought was unbearable.

He stopped pacing. Turned from the window. She stood just behind him, all her guards down, the naked vulnerability stark in her face. So lovely. Jude had asked if she was special, and she was. Guarded and geeky and passionate and brave.

“I meant them, Christie. I meant every word.”

The vulnerability drained away, brightness filling her expression.

Man, she had to know. He’d told her about the ADHD, a little piece of truth about himself. But she needed to know what it meant. What the consequences were.

He pushed a hand through his hair, the familiar antsy, restless feeling moving through him. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t go making me into someone I’m not.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think I’m some kind of sensitive, wonderful guy, who makes you feel good and special and perfect? Well, you’re wrong.”

“But you do make me feel those things.”

He stepped toward her, looking down into her face. Wanting her to see. To know the truth. “Yes, I make you feel those things now. But in ten minutes, I’ll have found something new to distract me. Someone else to interest me.” He paused. “I’m not someone you want to count on, Christie. I’m unreliable, distractible, and I get bored very, very easily.”

Christie stared at him for a long moment, then abruptly her lashes fell, veiling her gaze. “I see.” A tight voice. “So, what? In a week or so, you’ll have gotten bored of me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Now. It had to be now.

“Christie, I’m trying to tell you that I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t be your boyfriend. I can’t be your anything. This affair between us? It has to end.”

Slowly the color drained out of her face. “What? Why? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why does it have to end?”

“Because I’ll only end up hurting you. Like I hurt Jude.”

“Because you missed a birthday? Hey, I don’t care about my stupid birthday. I wouldn’t give a crap if you missed mine.”

He wanted to pull her to him. Never let her go. But he couldn’t. She had to know the unvarnished truth of what he was. “It’s not just one birthday, Christie. It’s years of missed birthdays. Years of being stood up. Years of being ignored.”

“I could make you pay attention.”

“No, honey. No, you couldn’t. Not if I didn’t want to.”

“So is that why you’ve been ignoring my texts for the past three days? My calls? Because you didn’t want to pay attention?”

“No. It’s because I procrastinate sometimes. Especially with doing things that are hard.”

“So this is hard for you?”

More painful truth. “Yeah. Like I said, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her jaw set, evidence of the determination he so admired in her. Then she walked toward him. He let her come, realizing she was going to touch him, bracing himself for it.

And sure enough she reached him, put her arms around him. Pressed her body against his. “So don’t hurt me then.”

All his muscles had gone tight with the need to enfold her in his arms. Kiss her beautiful mouth. Hold her. But he couldn’t. The only thing he could do was protect her.

From him.

Gently he unwound her arms from around his neck and stepped away, steeling himself against the hurt that crossed her face as he did so.

“Joseph,” she said.

“No, Christie. I’ve made my decision.”

“And what about me? Do my feelings not count at all?”

God, didn’t she understand? Her feelings counted. They counted for everything. Which is why he had to do this.

“Of course they do. Why do you think this has to come to an end? I can’t do relationships, Christie, I’ve never been able to.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Didn’t you listen? It’s not just birthdays and stood-up dates. I get bored. I get distracted. I fixate. At the moment I’m fixated on you but in another week, another month, I won’t be. I’ll lose interest. And then you’ll find I won’t pay attention to you anymore. I won’t listen. I’ll stand you up. Other things will suddenly become way more important than you.”

Christie stared at him, her brow wrinkled, clearly trying to understand. “But you said you manage that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I manage it. But that’s all.” He stood back. “I can’t stop being this way, Christie, and I won’t suddenly get better. This is who I am. Do you understand?”

She swallowed. “I…I think so. I can handle it, Joseph.”

“Can you? Can you really?” It felt like there was an elephant sitting on his chest, squeezing out all the air. Pressing against his heart. “What happens if six months down the track I suddenly turn to you and tell you I don’t want to see you anymore? That I’m bored with you. Could you handle that?”

The determination in her face didn’t falter. “No.” Her voice sounded small and quiet. “But I could try.”

Yes, she could. It wouldn’t work, though.

He remembered his mother shouting at him. Remembered the punishments she’d dealt out. And the bewilderment he’d always felt because he hadn’t been able to help the things he’d done, driven by the restlessness he couldn’t control. He’d tried to explain it to her once but she hadn’t listened. He still remembered trying because she’d shut herself in the bedroom and wouldn’t come out.

She’d hated it. She’d hated his behavior. And he knew that because he’d heard her crying sometimes. Usually after something he’d done wrong.

And the day she’d left, he knew that she’d hated him, too.

Christie could end up like that. Hating him. And he knew if she did, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

The weight on his chest moved, compressing his heart. Making it feel like it was wrapped in barbed wire. He made himself hold her gaze. “Yeah, well, that’s the thing. I can’t. It’s bad enough with Jude. I couldn’t handle hurting you. And that’s why you have to leave.”

She stared at him. Determined. Fierce. Then she reached out a hand toward him.

And he knew that if he took it, if he touched her again, he wouldn’t be able to let her go this time. That the selfish part of him would want to keep her as long as his ADHD would let him.

So he moved away.

Her hand dropped. “I don’t want to go,” she said thickly. “Please don’t make me.”

He swore. “You have to.”

“Joseph, I’m in l-love with you.”

The barbs around his heart sank in deep.

Too late. Too late.

“Don’t, Christie. Please—”

“That’s really why I’m here. To tell you that. To tell you I love you. That you make me feel so strong. So good about myself. “ She searched his face. “And that I want to do the same for you. Make you feel the way you make me feel.”

Tell her the truth. How good she makes you feel.

No, he couldn’t. What he had to do was stop procrastinating. End this now. And save them both the pain later on.

“I’m sorry, Christie,” Joseph said, and he made his voice sound hard and flat. “But you don’t make me feel anything at all.”

…

A punch to the gut. No, more like a bus.

What could she say to that? Nothing.

She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t plead. She’d spent too many years wanting her family’s approval, their praise and their love, to do the same with Joseph.

Maybe, at one stage, it would have been enough to have a week or two. Or even a couple of months. But it wasn’t now. She wanted more. She deserved more. Hadn’t Joseph himself shown her that?

Christie swallowed back the pain. Ignored the cold little animal that had nested in her heart. Lifted her chin. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it.”

Then she turned on her heel and walked out.