Off Limits / Ruled. Anne Marsh

me.’

      The air around us is charged with expectation and I just know he’s asking for more than a dance. Does he expect me to say no? I don’t like living up to expectations, and I’m not going to give him a reason to think I’m afraid of what’s going on between us.

      ‘Fine.’ My smile is tight. It stretches over my face like sunburn.

      He expels a breath, long and slow, and places a hand in the small of my back. No...just at the very top of my arse. His fingers are splayed wide and they press into me firmly, so that I’m propelled towards him. His other hand links with my fingers, wrapping through them.

      I focus on the band, my eyes taking in the details of their appearance while I concentrate on looking completely calm. I’m not, though. I’m weak when I want to be strong, and I need something that I shouldn’t.

      ‘This dress is sensational,’ he says, immediately shattering my attempts to find calm.

      ‘Is that your informed fashion opinion?’

      Too tart. I soften the snap with a smile. It’s a mistake. His eyes are mocking, his own smile sardonic.

      I look away again immediately.

      ‘It’s my informed opinion as a red-blooded male.’

      ‘What do you like about it?’

      Warning lights are flashing in my mind, clamouring for attention. They are bright and angry. What am I doing?

      ‘Let me see,’ he murmurs. ‘The colour. The way it’s literally glued to your skin.’

      He drops his head closer and heat spirals inside me; my blood is a vapour of steam in my veins.

      This isn’t right. It’s not us. He sleeps with other women and, sure, he flirts the heck out of me, but that’s harmless.

      This doesn’t feel harmless.

      The music slows and I slow with it, putting some space between us with what I tell myself is relief.

      ‘Get me up to speed on the New York situation,’ he says.

      ‘I intend to.’

      I’m snappy because I’m uncertain. I’m completely wrong-footed by his nearness, his touch, and my own desire for him is swamping me. I need a minute to regroup, but his fingers are giving me no time. They’re throbbing across my spine, my arse, and I am heating up by the second.

      ‘Tonight. Now.’

      I angle my head towards Wolf unconsciously. He’s still locked in conversation. I have no intention of going home with him, and yet I resent Jack’s implication that I don’t have a life of my own.

      ‘It’s not urgent.’ My words are stiff. ‘It’ll keep till tomorrow.’ And I force myself to pull completely free of Jack’s grip.

      It’s the equivalent of grabbing a lifeline from the side of a sinking boat. It’s slippery, and I’m pretty sure I’m not strong enough to hold on to it for long enough to save myself. Drowning is inevitable.

      ‘I want to hear about it tonight.’

      It’s a challenge. A gauntlet. He gives me a lot of latitude in my job because he knows how much I do. And I do it well. But at the end of the day he’s my boss, and I don’t know if anything is to be served by refusing him this request.

      ‘Fine,’ I say with a shrug of my shoulders. But I’m not going to let him think he’s won. ‘I just need...twenty minutes.’

      I disconnect myself from him and try not to register how my body screams in frustration.

      I saunter off towards Wolf before I can see if Jack’s reacting in the same way.

      Wolf is deep in conversation when I approach. ‘May I have a moment?’ I look with a hint of apology towards the men he’s with.

      ‘Sure.’ He grins at me. A nice grin. He really is good to look at. Not groundbreaking, earth-shattering, but nice.

      He puts a hand on my elbow but I am leading him, walking quickly out of the ballroom, seeking privacy for no reason other than to give Jack a taste of his own damned medicine. That and to send a loud and clear message. He doesn’t control every part of me.

      ‘All good for later?’ Wolf asks.

      I smile. ‘No, it’s not. I have to work tonight, actually. I’m going to brief Jack on the software situation.’

      ‘Tonight?’ He arches a brow, his voice rich with disbelief.

      ‘He micromanages everything,’ I explain. It’s true. ‘And he’s impatient as hell. I just want to make sure I have all the information.’

      He nods, not quite hiding his disappointment. ‘Let’s recap.’

      And that’s how I spend the nineteen minutes I have. Well, eighteen... I allow myself one minute to pull a bit of my hair loose from its bun and to pinch my cheeks, making them appear flushed with pleasure.

      Jack is waiting for me in the limousine twenty-five minutes after I left him. I imitate breathlessness as I step inside, and enjoy the way his eyes sweep over me with undisguised speculation.

      ‘Ready?’

      It’s not what I expected. I nod, but as I do so I feel like maybe I’m agreeing to something I don’t understand. Like there’s a hidden meaning I don’t yet know.

      ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

       Chapter Two

      I’LL SAY THIS for Jack. He knows how to do this. Late-night entertaining is clearly his forte.

      His office is dimly lit and he’s switched on some kind of acoustic guitar album that’s humming low in my abdomen. The vocalist has a husky rasp and it’s doing very strange things to my equilibrium. He mixes two martinis with a maraschino cherry in each.

      I arch a brow as he hands me mine. ‘I hate cherries.’

      ‘Interesting,’ he murmurs, his eyes hooked to mine. ‘Why?’

      I stare at it and swirl the glass, sipping the alcohol and wincing as the slightly medicinal flavour assaults my back palette. ‘They’re weird. Plasticky.’

      ‘Not the real ones.’

      ‘No.’

      I swallow, wondering at the way my gut is churning and my pulse is racing. I need to bring it back to business. It’s the reason I’m here with him.

      ‘The server in Canada can pick up the slack, but it’s going to slow things down.’

      ‘By how much?’

      ‘Just a few seconds’ lag. It’s unavoidable, given the distance.’

      ‘A few seconds?’ He shakes his head. ‘There’s nowhere closer?’

      ‘Not that can handle this amount of data.’

      He throws his drink back in one motion. ‘And Wolf thinks that’s acceptable?’

      He says his name with obvious derision.

      ‘You think he’d go to the effort of flying out here to propose it if he did?’

      ‘Well, he’s banging you, right?’

      I can’t hide the angry intake of breath. Sure, he’s always rude. And demanding. And I’ve learned not to give a shit. I don’t expect the same courtesy from Jack Grant that most people pepper into life. But this is too far even for him...even when we’ve been flirting all night.

      ‘His suggestion is professional,’ I return softly. A warning lurks in my words. Does he hear it?

      Apparently not. Jack