More Than Perfect

“I lied. It was your fault.”

“Wait a minute. Wait just one damn minute.” She set her cup and saucer on the counter, the porcelain singing in protest. “You told me to flirt with him.”

“I told you to distract him. You didn’t distract him.” It only took a single step in her direction to have him invading her personal space. “You distracted me. And he bloody well knew it. Knew it and took advantage of that fact.”

“And you blame me for that?” she demanded indignantly.

“I blame it on that damn dress.” Burning flames of desire flared to life in his gaze, sweeping like wildfire across her skin, scorching in its intensity. All she could do was stare in return, bathing in the irresistible flames. “Maybe it would help if you took it off …”

Three

Lucius heard the swift, panicked catch of Angie’s breath. God help him. Even that was sexy as hell. Why had he never noticed? How could he have been so blind?

“Have you lost your mind?” she demanded.

“Probably,” he admitted. Definitely.

“You can’t seriously expect me to strip down—”

“Expect? No. Hope?” He invaded the final few inches between them and caught the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, heard the swift give-and-take of her breath. “Oh, yeah.”

“I work for you. And this doesn’t just blur the lines. It steps way over them.”

He reached for her, hooked one of the curls that had taunted him all evening and allowed it to twine around his finger. It clung to him, silken soft and utterly female. He’d watched Moretti do just that and it had taken every ounce of his self-possession not to deck the bastard. Lucius shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, couldn’t make any sense out of the strength of his reaction. Angie had worked for him over the past eighteen months and not once in all that time had he ever felt the urge to connect with her on a personal level. To take her into his arms and discover whether that sexy, impudent mouth tasted as good as it looked.