I pause. “You think that’s a likely scenario?”
“Highly probable.”
I shake myself out of doughnut-related thoughts and contort my face back into my Ice Queen mask. “You’re distracting me again.”
“Am I?” he asks.
“You know why I’m here.”
“Yes, we’ve discussed this already. You simply couldn’t stay away.” He takes another step toward me. “I mean… I’ve been told my kisses are irresistible, but this is taking things to a whole new level.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late. I’m flattered.” He takes another few steps. “How could I not be? You went through so much trouble to get my attention.”
“Trouble?” I scoff. “Hacking your server took about as much brain power as chewing a stick of bubblegum.”
“Speaking of bubblegum,” he cuts in. “Funny story—”
“No!” I yell. “No more stories. No more tangents. No more charm or half-smiles or stupid little ploys to make me forget why I’m here.”
“Charm, huh?” He winks. “Stop, you’ll make me blush.”
I glare. “You took my thumb drive.”
“Did you say hump time?”
“Are you in seventh grade?”
“Sixth, actually, but I’m old for my year—”
“Shut up! God, how has no one strangled you yet? Are you always this annoying?”
“Would you believe, usually I’m even more annoying.”
“My flash stick.” I glare at him. “Portable hard drive. Fits in a USB slot.”
“That was a lot of technical jargon for a dumb elementary schooler like myself. All I heard was something about me driving my stick into your slot.”
“Cut the shit, okay? I know you have it and I want it back.”
“How do you know I have it?”
“Because…” I feel my cheeks heat. “You’re the only one who could’ve taken it.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“When would I have taken it?”
God, he’s going to make me say it. I grit my teeth. “Perhaps when you had your hands down my dress last night.”
“Oh, right.” His grin widens to epic proportions. “Then.”
“Just admit you have it so I know I’m not wasting my time.”
“I’ll tell you whether or not I have it…” He pauses. “If you tell me your name.”
“You can’t blackmail me,” I hiss. “I’m already blackmailing you!”
“How’s that?”
I throw my hands up. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the blockade I created in your entire computer system?”
“Oh, right.” His grin is unwavering. “That.”
“Yes, that,” I snap, slightly offended that my efforts at sabotage are being brushed off with such little concern.
“I’m sure my tech guys will figure it out. Eventually.”
I snort. “Have you met your tech guys?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He stares at me and some of the humor bleeds out of his eyes. His voice goes low. “Tell me your name.”
My heartbeat picks up speed. “No.”
“Fine. Then I can’t confirm or deny that your flash drive is in my possession.”
“Jesus Christ.” I look up to the heavens, seeking divine intervention. “This is torture.”
“This? No. This is a conversation between… friends.”
“We aren’t friends.”
“You’re right.” He shakes his head. “We’re so much more, snookums. Our connection… it’s deeper than words.”
“I loathe you.”
“You love me.”
I snort. “The day I love you will be the day the Red Sox and Yankees have a giant group hug on the mound at Fenway. Never gonna happen.”
“Come on. Tell me your name. I’m dying over here.”
“In that case, I’ll just wait for you to keel over, step around your corpse, and ransack your office until I find my flash drive.”
“Stone cold.” He shakes his head. “I bet you don’t want to tell me because it’s something hideous. Like Minerva. Or Beatrice. Or Millicent.”
“My name is not Millicent.”
“Whatever you say, Millie.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll take Millie over your other nicknames.”
“Come on. You know my name,” he points out. “It’s only fair.”
“Since when is anything in life fair?”
“Touché, snookums, touché.”
“Call me that again and I’ll kill you.”
“Tell me your real name and I won’t call you that anymore,” he counters. “Well, I won’t call you that as much. I don’t want to make sweeping generalizations about my potential future pet name use—”
“Oh my fucking god! My name is Zoe. ZOE!” I shout, just to shut him up. “Are you happy?”
He takes another step in my direction and I suddenly — scarily — realize he’s rather close. So close, in fact, that I can see those green flecks in his eyes up close and personal when they crinkle in a victorious smile and he murmurs, “Yes. I’m happy, Zoe.”
Hearing my name from his lips causes a visceral reaction within me. My throat goes dry. My stomach somersaults. My nipples harden beneath my bra.
Shit.
He stares at me. “Zoe. Such a tiny name for such a big personality. It suits you.”
I haul in a breath, hoping he doesn’t notice that my thighs are suddenly clenched together.
God, what is it about this man? I want to strangle the life out of him… and fuck his brains out. All at the same time.