“We did it four times.” Sheesh. She hadn’t done it four times in one night since…maybe never.
He ran his warm hands up her thighs. “It wasn’t enough. I want more. I want you.” He brushed his thumbs across the silk center of her panties. Her flesh got hot and tightened in response. “Tell me you want me too.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips and nodded.
He slid one thumb beneath her panties and touched her bare crotch. “Tell me.”
It seemed important to him so she said, “I want you, Mark.” She reached for the ends of her blouse and pulled it over her head.
“Why?” He slid his thumb across her slick core and she moaned out loud.
“Because you’re good at making me want you.” She lowered her face to his. “Because I need you.”
She spent the rest of the afternoon needing him. She slid all over Mark’s hard body, getting hot and sweaty. By the time she left, it was around ten that night, and she fell exhausted into her own bed. Bo had written a note saying that she was spending the night with Jules, and Chelsea didn’t see her sister until they both left for work the next day. By the time she arrived at Mark’s front door, apprehension once again sat heavy in her stomach. It was Monday morning, and the weekend she’d spent with Mark was suddenly real. She’d never wanted to be one of those women who had an affair with the celebrity she worked for, essentially her boss. She never wanted to be one of those women who was left with nothing but a broken heart and no job.
The front door to Mark’s house was unlocked, and he sat in his office at the computer, typing something with two fingers. “That house in Issaquah has been dropped twenty thousand,” he said without looking up. “Isn’t that the one with the walk-in closet you liked?” He hit send and reached for his cane leaning against the desk.
“Yeah. It had all those revolving shoe racks.” What did it matter if she liked it? “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you use your cane in a few days.”
“Some days are better than others.” He stood and walked toward her. “If you’re worried, you can‹orr come upstairs and give me a rubdown.” He pushed one side of her hair behind her ear.
“That isn’t in my job description.” She took a step back before she gave in to temptation and turned her face into his palm. “If I’m going to continue to work for you, we have to have boundaries.” Maybe if there were rules, she wouldn’t become a sad cliché.
He put one hand on his hip. “What boundaries?”
“No sex Monday through Friday.”
“That’s bullshit. That only leaves the weekends.”
“Okay,” she compromised. “No sex during working hours.” And she meant it too. If she wanted to keep what little dignity she had left, she had to at least try and separate her working and personal relationship with Mark.
“I’ll try to remember.”
But he didn’t. He didn’t even try. It was up to her to be the strong one and maintain a distance. She had to remind him that sliding his hand to the small of her back or up her thigh wasn’t work-appropriate. And touching her bottom during three-man hockey was definitely illegal contact. Not even when she fell on her butt. Later, after Derek left and the clock struck five, she let him kiss it better for her.
During that whole week, she didn’t see very much of her sister. But she wasn’t surprised. That was how Bo operated. Whether it was a job or new boyfriend, she threw herself into it wholeheartedly. Most of the time her relationships ended in heartache. Chelsea had a good feeling about Jules, though. She had a feeling things would turn out all right. She wished she could say the same for herself.
She didn’t know where her relationship with Mark would lead. It was so new and different and terrifying. Most terrifying of all, moving back to L.A. was losing its appeal. She didn’t want to be one of those women who gave up her dreams for a man. Her head and her heart were at war, and she was terrified that her heart was winning the battle.
“I changed your ringtone,” she told him as they lay in bed watching Big Trouble in Little China. For a hockey player he was surprisingly good at remembering dialogue.
He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and dialed. “Trouble?
? by Pink played from her purse.
“You’re trouble,” he said. “That’s for sure.”
“You’re the trouble.”
He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since the day you showed up on my porch.” Once again, she wondered where this relationship would lead.
The Saturday after the Stanley Cup party, Mark surprised her with tickets to Oklahoma! and her heart won a bit more ground. “Do you like musicals?”
“Yeh.”
What a liar.
After the play, he brought her to his house. Instead of taking her to bed, though, he took her hand and led her through the dark house. He opened the pocket doors to the formal living room—empty except for the S‹xcetanley Cup sitting on the floor in the middle of the white carpet. A bottle of Dom Pérignon lay in the top of the cup, surrounded by ice, while the crystal chandelier shot prisms of light across the shiny silver.