With just that one movement, his fingers dragging along my sensitive skin like that, he sets me on fire. He’s tilting my leg left and right, looking at my wound, but the gentleness of his touch is not normal for someone just playing concerned employer. I can’t be imagining all of this, can I?

He looks up at me, his eyes darker than before. “I can’t treat you like everyone else because you’re not like everyone else.”

Does he mean . . .? No. Of course not. He means I’m a weakling. And let’s face it: compared to Toni, I am.

“You’re saying I’m weak, aren’t you? Bo Peep. Some girl who walks around with a hook running after sheep all day long.” I’m disgusted with myself. Why haven’t I gone to the gym? Why do I eat so much cheesecake?

His smile is faint, but it’s there. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He reaches up and squeezes my bicep.

I try not to flinch, but I’m only partially successful. Wow, those muscles are so sore.

“You’ve got strength. We’re just going to build on what you already have. I know you can hack it. Otherwise, I would never have hired you.”

“Really?” So many alternative meanings to our words are flying around my head. Are we talking about me being a suitable employee or a woman he has feelings for? Because I know I have feelings for him. There’s no denying it any more. Every time I’m in his company, I feel closer to him. I want to get to know him better. I wonder if that’s even possible; he seems like such a private person.

He shrugs and sits up. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

What? What just happened? He was all soft before, and now he’s back to being regular Ozzie. Is he regretting asking me to work with him?

“No, I don’t know.” He picks up my leg at the ankle and slowly lowers it to the ground. When he sits up again, he sighs, leans back, and rests his hands on his thighs. “I admit to being a little confused where you’re concerned.”

I smile. Now I finally feel like we’re on even playing ground. Maybe.

“You seem happy about that.” He frowns.

“I am, because now I don’t feel like the only one.”

“You’re confused about me?”

“You could say that.” No way in hell am I going to be the first one to admit there might be some chemistry between us. For all I know he could be talking about something completely different.

“So, we’re mutually confused,” he says. A smile starts to turn up the corners of his mouth.

I nudge him with my foot. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Smiling.”

His eyebrows go up. “Stop smiling?”

My face gets hot. “Yes. You’re making me nervous.”

His grin goes decidedly devious. “Nervous? Why nervous?”

I kick him again on his boot, harder this time. “Seriously, stop.” I stand, unable to take the pressure anymore.

He takes one of my hands and looks up at me. “Where are you going?” His fingers are so warm. Too warm. Oh my god.

“I have to . . . go. I can’t handle this . . . whatever it is.”

He waits for me to explain.

Ergh! I can’t take it! I was never good at playing the game. It’s time for some honesty. Someone has to break the ice, right? “It’s just . . . been awhile for me, and I was never that experienced before anyway, so . . .” I shrug and stare at the ground.

He doesn’t answer right away, so I look up at him.

He’s frowning. “What exactly are you talking about?”

I blow out a big frustrated breath of air and then let the words just fly out of my mouth. They can’t be contained any longer. “Sex, duh. What are you talking about?”

He stands, still hanging onto my hand. “I was talking about your workouts.”

My face blanches and it’s suddenly very difficult to breathe. My voice comes out like a croak. “Oh my god. I’m so embarrassed. I have to go.” I try to yank my hand from his and move around him, but he won’t let go.

He’s smiling again.

What in the hell?! Why is he grinning at me like that?!

“Would you quit that?!”

His smile turns into chuckles.

I stare at him and realize then that he’s been messing with me. This whole time. Maybe since the moment I met him.

“Oh my god, you are so incredibly bad.” I can feel the red coming back to my face, crawling up my chest, to my neck, all the way to my forehead. No man has ever made me blush like he has.

“I am?” He moves closer to me.

“You’ve been completely messing with me. This entire time.” I can’t decide whether to sing with joy or kick him in the crotch. I still don’t know what’s going on, but now I know there’s chemistry between us, on both sides. I cannot possibly be imagining everything.

“Don’t be mad.” He’s trying to be cute now.

“Mad? Me? Please.” I step away from him to put some distance between us. Mostly because I can think better when he’s not so close. “It’s going to take a lot more than a guy yanking my chain to piss me off.” I start to walk away.

“Where are you going?” he asks, letting my hand slide from his.

“I’m going to go eat some late lunch.”

He leans over, grabs my hand, and yanks me back, catching me off guard. I stumble and fall into him. He catches me in his arms as if we were just performing a swing-dancing move.

“You forgot to say good-bye.” He’s leaning over me, a twinkle in his eye.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Memories of our lobster dinner and him at my door saying good-bye with a kiss come rushing back. He liked it too! He wants a repeat performance just like I do! I’m going to have a heart attack right here at work!

A door opens above us. I panic, standing quickly and pulling myself out of his grip. Stealing a kiss now and again is one thing; letting other employees know something’s going on is another. No way, José. I’ll lose every ounce of credibility I have with my coworkers, and when that respect only comes in half-ounces at a time, every drop counts.

“Good-bye, Ozzie. Have a nice afternoon.” I walk away with my chin up and my cheeks blazing red, flicking my hair over my shoulder as I go. I can do this. I can be completely cool when my insides are melting like a bar of chocolate left in the hot Louisiana summer sun.

Lucky is coming down the stairs in my direction, when I reach the first step. He has a singlestick in his right hand.

“I hear you’re on the injured list,” he says, pausing when we’re at the same level. The weapon hangs at his side. He doesn’t even act like it’s there, as if it’s just a part of his outfit, like a belt or a watch.

Hmmm, strange. Do they use those upstairs? They must or why would it be there? I don’t say anything, because maybe that’s normal for them. Maybe they just walk around with weapons for no reason.

“Nah, no injured list for me,” I say, ignoring the pain that still racks my every muscle. “I’m fine.”

“You got the surveillance equipment up?”

“Yes, we did.” I grin with pride, glad to have something to talk about other than my injuries or lack of sex and the desire to have lots of it with Ozzie.

“Well done.” He gives me a fist bump. I think it’s the first one I’ve ever executed in my life. “Catch you tomorrow?”

“You’re done for the day?”

“Gotta go to the police station and talk to some detectives, so I’m going to miss the afternoon excitement.”

I glance back over my shoulder. Ozzie is watching us. “Excitement?” I face Lucky again, not sure I understand. I thought I was going upstairs for a meeting. The last one was interesting, but I don’t know that I’d call it exciting, per se.

Lucky glances at Ozzie and frowns for a second before turning his attention back to me. “Yeah. The progress briefing. We usually have them every couple days.”