baby.
Which meant that Mitch’s concern for Karla was that of a concerned and caring friend as well as her employer, and that Maggie had been condemning him without cause.
The feeling of relief that swept through her was bewildering in its intensity. Why she should feel such relief, Maggie couldn’t, or more precisely wouldn’t, examine.
Mentally shying away from any deeper meaning in her startled reaction to Karla’s laughing remark, Maggie told herself she felt relieved simply because her suspicions were laid to rest and would make working with Mitch a lot less stressful.
From the casino floor, they went to therestaurant where they learned that Mitch had already ordered lunch.
Mitch raised his head at the sound of the outer office door opening, the murmur of feminine voices.
They were back. An anticipatory thrill shot down Mitch’s back, tingling the base of his spine. She was back.
He grunted in self-disdain when he caught himself straining to distinguish Maggie’s voice through his closed office door. At that moment, a tap sounded on the wood panel.
Not wanting to take a chance on being caught with his expectations exposed, Mitch lowered his head and fastened his gaze on the balance sheet in front of him.
“Come in,” he said, certain it would be Karla delivering his lunch, hoping it would be Maggie.
The doorknob turned. The door was pushed open. “I have your lunch order from the restaurant upstairs… Mitch.”
Maggie.
Mitch hadn’t had to hear her voice; he had known it was her the minute she stepped into the room. He had felt her presence, felt as well the same explosive sexual-energy attractioncrackling between them he’d felt from the beginning. And she had felt it, too. He could see the awareness of it in her eyes, the infinitesimal quiver of response of her body.
Ruling his expression into a bland mask, Mitch lifted his head. “Thank you, Maggie.”
Collecting the pile of printouts and correspondence, he set it to one side, clearing a portion of his desk. Shoving back his chair, he rose, intending to relieve her of the carryout container and drink cup she was holding.
“Don’t bother,” she said, quickly moving forward to set the containers on the desk. “And you’re welcome,” she continued, standing straight and alert, as if prepared to bolt the instant he told her she could go. But that flash in her eyes, that minute quiver of her body gave her away.
Oh, yeah, Maggie felt that sizzling attraction as sharply as he did, and she didn’t like it. But she would, Mitch promised himself. Eventually, she’d love it, revel in it, every bit as much as he knew he would.
Amused by her wariness, Mitch flicked a hand at the deeply padded chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
Her beautiful green eyes flared with consternation. “But…your lunch will get cold.”
Good try, he thought, silently applauding her. “Doesn’t matter. It’s already cold.”
She frowned.
He relented…a little bit. “I ordered a cold sandwich and a cold drink.” He inclined his head at the closed cardboard container and tall, lidded waxed paper cup on the tray. “So, please, sit down, Maggie.” Though politely phrased, he made it a direct order.
Still she hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, her expression.
Standing firm, Mitch stared her down—all the way down into the chair placed farthest from him. Conquering an urge to laugh, he reclaimed his seat.
“That’s better.” He arched a brow. “You and Karla have had lunch?”
“Yes.”
Oh, Lord. Her voice sent those fiery fingers girding his hips into overtime. Mitch nodded and cleared his throat. “We can talk while I eat.” His hand moved to hover over the closed container. “If you don’t mind?”
She answered with a quick shake of her head.
He missed the swirl of her glorious red hair,now confined in a neat plait at the back of her head. Mitch found himself fighting an impulse to leap up, circle the desk, pull the
Which meant that Mitch’s concern for Karla was that of a concerned and caring friend as well as her employer, and that Maggie had been condemning him without cause.
The feeling of relief that swept through her was bewildering in its intensity. Why she should feel such relief, Maggie couldn’t, or more precisely wouldn’t, examine.
Mentally shying away from any deeper meaning in her startled reaction to Karla’s laughing remark, Maggie told herself she felt relieved simply because her suspicions were laid to rest and would make working with Mitch a lot less stressful.
From the casino floor, they went to therestaurant where they learned that Mitch had already ordered lunch.
Mitch raised his head at the sound of the outer office door opening, the murmur of feminine voices.
They were back. An anticipatory thrill shot down Mitch’s back, tingling the base of his spine. She was back.
He grunted in self-disdain when he caught himself straining to distinguish Maggie’s voice through his closed office door. At that moment, a tap sounded on the wood panel.
Not wanting to take a chance on being caught with his expectations exposed, Mitch lowered his head and fastened his gaze on the balance sheet in front of him.
“Come in,” he said, certain it would be Karla delivering his lunch, hoping it would be Maggie.
The doorknob turned. The door was pushed open. “I have your lunch order from the restaurant upstairs… Mitch.”
Maggie.
Mitch hadn’t had to hear her voice; he had known it was her the minute she stepped into the room. He had felt her presence, felt as well the same explosive sexual-energy attractioncrackling between them he’d felt from the beginning. And she had felt it, too. He could see the awareness of it in her eyes, the infinitesimal quiver of response of her body.
Ruling his expression into a bland mask, Mitch lifted his head. “Thank you, Maggie.”
Collecting the pile of printouts and correspondence, he set it to one side, clearing a portion of his desk. Shoving back his chair, he rose, intending to relieve her of the carryout container and drink cup she was holding.
“Don’t bother,” she said, quickly moving forward to set the containers on the desk. “And you’re welcome,” she continued, standing straight and alert, as if prepared to bolt the instant he told her she could go. But that flash in her eyes, that minute quiver of her body gave her away.
Oh, yeah, Maggie felt that sizzling attraction as sharply as he did, and she didn’t like it. But she would, Mitch promised himself. Eventually, she’d love it, revel in it, every bit as much as he knew he would.
Amused by her wariness, Mitch flicked a hand at the deeply padded chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
Her beautiful green eyes flared with consternation. “But…your lunch will get cold.”
Good try, he thought, silently applauding her. “Doesn’t matter. It’s already cold.”
She frowned.
He relented…a little bit. “I ordered a cold sandwich and a cold drink.” He inclined his head at the closed cardboard container and tall, lidded waxed paper cup on the tray. “So, please, sit down, Maggie.” Though politely phrased, he made it a direct order.
Still she hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, her expression.
Standing firm, Mitch stared her down—all the way down into the chair placed farthest from him. Conquering an urge to laugh, he reclaimed his seat.
“That’s better.” He arched a brow. “You and Karla have had lunch?”
“Yes.”
Oh, Lord. Her voice sent those fiery fingers girding his hips into overtime. Mitch nodded and cleared his throat. “We can talk while I eat.” His hand moved to hover over the closed container. “If you don’t mind?”
She answered with a quick shake of her head.
He missed the swirl of her glorious red hair,now confined in a neat plait at the back of her head. Mitch found himself fighting an impulse to leap up, circle the desk, pull the
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