Read Online Secrets to Hide 2: Naughty Little Christmas by Ella Sheridan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ella Sheridan
Tags: Holidays; Contemporay
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that wasn’t the conversation she referred to. “I warned you to stay away from the customers.”
A hint of hurt swirled in her green eyes. “I’m not sleeping with customers, for God’s sake. I barely have time to sleep or talk to—” Tension spiked through the air as she paused. “Or talk to anyone.”
“Except Hank.”
She threw her phone carelessly onto the coffee table. “Yes, I spoke to Hank. I danced with him. You know that; you saw me. What does talking and dancing have to do with sleeping with customers?”
“Just that you don’t really have time to be sleeping with anyone right now. We have too much going on. You need to be focused on work.”
“Damien,” she said, his name sounding more like a curse, but when she opened her mouth to continue, nothing came out. Instead a V formed between her eyes, eyes gone dark and dangerously stormy. He was beginning to get the feeling that V was a warning sign. Danger, violence ahead.
Harley stood, fists propped on her hips, and stalked toward the desk. “You know what?”
“What?”
“You are a hypocrite.”
“A—” Anything more was choked off in his suddenly constricted throat. Spluttering, he finally squeezed out a weak, “I am not.”
Honesty, remember? Look it up.
“Yes, you are.” She stood before the desk now, leaning over, her fists planted on the surface the same way they’d been planted on her hips. “I spent quite a bit of time at Thrice before I spoke to you. Did you know that?”
Uh-oh. Here it came, his ass in a sling. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. Otherwise you would know how utterly ridiculous it is to try to sell me that line of bull about not sleeping with the customers. Because you, dear Damien, always seemed to have one of them on your arm, even following you out the door at night. What’s good for the goose, remember? Just how many women have you slept with in the past month who also happened to dance and/or drink at your club?”
No way in hell was he answering that. “How many women I’ve slept with is no one’s business but mine. How many men have you slept with?”
At least she didn’t call attention to the fact that he’d left the all-important who were customers off his question. “That’s not the point. The point is you telling me one thing and doing another. What’s that old saying, ‘Don’t do what I do; do what I say do’? I’m not a child incapable of choosing my own sexual partners. At least I can remember them all,” she taunted with a twist of her lips.
He couldn’t say the same. The perks of the life he lived meant women were available at every turn. Until recently, he’d enjoyed as many women as his body would let him have. Now, his body seemed to be restricting him to only one.
“Just how many do you remember?” he asked, unable to stop himself, because he needed to know how many men there’d been, and maybe, just maybe, to prove to them both that she was just as “bad” as he was.
Harley hesitated, taking a long, slightly shaky breath. On the exhale, she breathed out a single word. “None.”
For a moment he couldn’t speak. Then he couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “A woman like you?” She had to be the most sensual, beautiful woman he’d ever met. “Come on, Harley. Give me a number I can believe, or just tell me it’s none of my business.”
For the blink of an eye, real, agonizing pain lit her face and then disappeared. Harley turned away, but not before Damien got the distinct impression he’d gone way beyond dickhead into bastard territory. “It’s none of your business, Damien. Now leave me alone and let me work.”
Chapter Four
A woman like her. For two days Harley had tried to figure out what those words meant, beyond the obvious. The knowledge that Damien thought she was some kind of slut had cracked open her breastbone and clawed her heart to pieces. This man who had touched her senses, who had drawn her to him like no one before, had turned out
A hint of hurt swirled in her green eyes. “I’m not sleeping with customers, for God’s sake. I barely have time to sleep or talk to—” Tension spiked through the air as she paused. “Or talk to anyone.”
“Except Hank.”
She threw her phone carelessly onto the coffee table. “Yes, I spoke to Hank. I danced with him. You know that; you saw me. What does talking and dancing have to do with sleeping with customers?”
“Just that you don’t really have time to be sleeping with anyone right now. We have too much going on. You need to be focused on work.”
“Damien,” she said, his name sounding more like a curse, but when she opened her mouth to continue, nothing came out. Instead a V formed between her eyes, eyes gone dark and dangerously stormy. He was beginning to get the feeling that V was a warning sign. Danger, violence ahead.
Harley stood, fists propped on her hips, and stalked toward the desk. “You know what?”
“What?”
“You are a hypocrite.”
“A—” Anything more was choked off in his suddenly constricted throat. Spluttering, he finally squeezed out a weak, “I am not.”
Honesty, remember? Look it up.
“Yes, you are.” She stood before the desk now, leaning over, her fists planted on the surface the same way they’d been planted on her hips. “I spent quite a bit of time at Thrice before I spoke to you. Did you know that?”
Uh-oh. Here it came, his ass in a sling. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. Otherwise you would know how utterly ridiculous it is to try to sell me that line of bull about not sleeping with the customers. Because you, dear Damien, always seemed to have one of them on your arm, even following you out the door at night. What’s good for the goose, remember? Just how many women have you slept with in the past month who also happened to dance and/or drink at your club?”
No way in hell was he answering that. “How many women I’ve slept with is no one’s business but mine. How many men have you slept with?”
At least she didn’t call attention to the fact that he’d left the all-important who were customers off his question. “That’s not the point. The point is you telling me one thing and doing another. What’s that old saying, ‘Don’t do what I do; do what I say do’? I’m not a child incapable of choosing my own sexual partners. At least I can remember them all,” she taunted with a twist of her lips.
He couldn’t say the same. The perks of the life he lived meant women were available at every turn. Until recently, he’d enjoyed as many women as his body would let him have. Now, his body seemed to be restricting him to only one.
“Just how many do you remember?” he asked, unable to stop himself, because he needed to know how many men there’d been, and maybe, just maybe, to prove to them both that she was just as “bad” as he was.
Harley hesitated, taking a long, slightly shaky breath. On the exhale, she breathed out a single word. “None.”
For a moment he couldn’t speak. Then he couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “A woman like you?” She had to be the most sensual, beautiful woman he’d ever met. “Come on, Harley. Give me a number I can believe, or just tell me it’s none of my business.”
For the blink of an eye, real, agonizing pain lit her face and then disappeared. Harley turned away, but not before Damien got the distinct impression he’d gone way beyond dickhead into bastard territory. “It’s none of your business, Damien. Now leave me alone and let me work.”
Chapter Four
A woman like her. For two days Harley had tried to figure out what those words meant, beyond the obvious. The knowledge that Damien thought she was some kind of slut had cracked open her breastbone and clawed her heart to pieces. This man who had touched her senses, who had drawn her to him like no one before, had turned out
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