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check the lock to
know he was gone. After washing her hands, she patted cold water on
her face. Her cheeks were still flushed with color, her lips
just-kissed plump. At that moment, she didn’t need makeup. All she
needed was sex with Clay.
    Just sex? She could have an affair
with her boss. She could even do an excellent job as controller
while she was screwing him on the side. She could separate sex and
work.
    But she couldn’t separate how she felt about
Clay. Sex wasn’t the same as it was with Vince. Clay made her heart
swell with need. She wanted to burrow inside him, sleep in his
arms, wake up beside him, come home to him.
    On Wednesday morning, she could have lived
without it. She hadn’t known his intimate desires, his touch, his
taste, or how his skin felt beneath her fingers. She hadn’t known
how good he could make her feel in so many more ways than just sex.
    Wednesday was a lifetime ago.
    Now, she hated that he was going home to
Ruby, a woman who didn’t deserve him.
     
     

Chapter Eight
     
     
    Ruby admitted that she’d royally fucked up.
But it wasn’t all her fault. She would explain to him how
she didn’t understand what he wanted because he gave off mixed
signals.
    She’d waited all morning and all afternoon
for him to return, and by four o’clock, she was going a little
insane.
    Bradley had called. She’d sent him to
voicemail. He had to figure his own way out of the mess.
    Her nerves getting to her, she’d resorted to
eating cheese and salsa because there was nothing else in the
house. Cheese would make her thighs lumpy, but salsa was good for
you, all those tomatoes.
    The front door opened, and her heart
threatened to beat right out of her chest. Seated on the couch, she
could see Clay through the open fireplace. She set aside the cheese
plate. The clink of ceramic on the coffee table got his attention.
His face was so serious. Not a smile, not a glimmer of hope. He
stepped down into the living room, stopped beside the firepit, then
eased down on the wide stone ledge surrounding it.
    “Where have you been?” she asked.
    “I had a beer.” He’d been gone so long, he
could have had a six-pack, but he didn’t appear drunk.
    “Can I explain?” she asked, sounding suitably
plaintive.
    “You don’t have to explain.” His voice was
flat. The sound of it made her nerves jump even more.
    “But I need to.”
    He didn’t say anything, not to tell her
shut-up, nor to go on.
    But she could explain it. “I don’t understand
what you want. Like, if I tell you I’m going out with a girlfriend
when really I’m going to meet a man, you’re all hot and bothered
when I get home, sniffing to see if I smell like come, and if I do,
you get wild. But it’s still breaking your rule about not telling
you I’m going on a date.”
    “You’re right,” he said expressionlessly.
“That’s a rule I don’t mind if you break.”
    “But it’s not okay to break the rule about
sex with a coworker or sex at the house.” She spread her hands.
“How am I supposed to know which rules I can’t break?”
    “I don’t have an answer,” he said.
    She gaped, starting to feel put-out. He’d
made her into the bad guy for no good reason. “Then what am I
supposed to do?”
    “Do you always tell them I’m not a good
lover?”
    She almost sagged with relief. So that’s what
it was about, his ego. “It depends on the man. Sometimes they need
building up.”
    “So you tear me down to do it.” His voice was
like the flat edge of a knife: it didn’t hurt, but all he had to do
was turn it and it would slice right through her.
    “It’s not about you,” she said. “It’s about
them.”
    “I realize that.”
    She felt the knife edge turning on her and
wasn’t sure how to stop it. “You’ve always liked what we’ve
done.”
    “Why Bradley? Why my office?”
    She thought better of shrugging. “I don’t
know. It just happened.”
    She realized her mistake when his features
sharpened and his jaw