“Come on, Andrea.” He stepped toward her.

Andy popped up from her chair. “And don’t come near me.” Scanning her desktop, her eyes settled on a tape dispenser. It was clear, but it would have to do. Holding the dispenser in one hand, she shooed Blake toward his desk with the other.

Surprisingly, he complied, taking several confused steps backward. When he’d crossed what she believed to be the center of the room, she got to work. Walking to the wall she fastened the end of the tape to the floor then paced it across the room before tearing the other end off. She traced her footsteps back over the line she’d made, pressing the tape into the carpet. It wouldn’t stick for long, but long enough to make her point.

She finished then turned to her boss. “You see that line? That’s your side.” She pointed to the side of the room that Blake currently occupied. “This is my side.” She circled back to her desk and deposited the dispenser in its place.

Blake scanned the line with his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not.” She thrust out her chin and put her fists on her hips. “Do not cross to my side. Is that clear?” Perhaps it wasn’t her place to make such demands, but frankly, she didn’t give a hoot.

Blake, however, was not going to give in easily, it seemed. He squared his shoulders. “I’ll go wherever I damn well please. It’s my office.”

My, but didn’t he look hot when he was in charge.

Stop it, stop it, stop it! He is not hot. He’s horrific. She infused her anger at herself into her next words. “I don’t care whose office it is. You will stay on your side.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “What are you going to do to me if I don’t?”

Was that a challenge? Game on. “Try it and find out.”

With blazing determination set into his features, Blake lifted his foot and slowly placed it on the other side of the tape. On her side.

Andy’s eyes widened with rage. She wanted to hurt him. Physically hurt him. And maybe maul him a bit with her hands and her mouth as well, but mostly just hurt him. She bent to grab the first weapon that came to mind—her three-inch-heeled shoe—and chucked it at him.

Blake caught it with one hand. He chuckled. “That certainly worked the way you wanted it to.”

What a pompous ass! She huffed and bent to grab the other. This time she hit his shoulder. He didn’t succeed in hiding his wince. A minor victory, but a victory all the same.

Blake bent to pick up the second shoe from the floor where it had fallen. “So now I have both your shoes.” His eyes twinkled with sheer evil. Why the hell did devil look so good on him? “And it’s a rainy day. Good luck with your trip home this evening.”

“Dammit.” There were so many other things she could have thrown, why had she chosen her shoes? They were nice shoes, too. A pair of Pradas that she’d grabbed in a Filene’s Basement sale before it went out of business. Several years old, but the black style was classic.

She walked up to the tape line and put her hand out. “Give me my shoes back.”

“What was that?” He cocked his head. “It sounded like you were talking about something non-work-related and I’m not allowed to speak to you under those terms.”

Jesus Christ, she was not doing this with him. “Give them to me. Now.”

“Oh, you want these?” He held the shoes in one hand, dangling them above her reach.

Andy began to step toward him, needing to be closer to have any hope of retrieving them.

But Blake stopped her with a shake of his finger. “Uh, uh, uh,” he chided. “No crossing over the line.”

The damn tape line. If she stepped across it now, he would win. She would not be defeated. That left no choice but to ask for them again. Though she didn’t have to ask nicely. “Give me the fucking shoes, Blake.”

Again he dangled them, too high for her to grasp without stepping across the boundary she set. But though the shoes were out of her reach, his suit jacket wasn’t.

Like lightening, she stretched toward him and pulled his beloved Montblanc from his pocket. “Ah ha!” She stepped back so he couldn’t immediately grab it back. Wielding it like a sword in front of her, she taunted him. “Now what are you going to do? Huh, Donovan?”

He smirked at her. “Very cute. Give it back.”

Like hell, she would. “This pen? You want this?” She tossed it in the air, catching it in her palm before tossing it again.

“Would you please be careful with it? That’s a very expensive pen.”

Ooo, she had him. His tone was anxious and desperate. “Oh, I know what it’s worth. In fact, considering I got those shoes at discount price, I think this is a pretty fair trade.”

“You’re not keeping my pen. Give it to me.”

There was that alpha-male tone of his again. If she weren’t so mad, she might consider it a turn-on. “Not until you give me my shoes.”

He cocked his head, considering. “If I give you your shoes will you forget this nonsense about my side and your side and let me talk to you?”

She’d rather go barefoot. “Not a chance.”

“Give me the pen.”

“Give me my shoes.”

Blake stuffed one shoe under his arm and studied the other. He wiggled the heel, noticing it was loose. “You know, these seem to have fairly wobbly heels. It doesn’t look like it would take much to break one.”

She drew in a breath. “You wouldn’t dare.” Not her classic Pradas. She couldn’t get a pair of designer shoes at that price again. And considering how fast she was about to be out of this job, she’d need nice shoes for interviewing.

“Give me my pen.”

Yet if it came to the pen or the Pradas, she’d choose the pen hands down. “Never.” She. Would. Not. Lose.

Eyes pinned on Andy, Blake pulled on the heel. With a snap, it broke free. “Whoops.”

“You … you … you bastard!” Andy searched the room looking for a method to destroy his pen in proper retribution for her ruined Prada. Spying the heating vent behind her desk, she ran to it.

“Don’t even think about it.”

She paused, her hand poised to jam his pen in between the slats. Pen or vent, something was going to go.

In three easy strides, Blake stepped over the tape dividing line and crossed to her. Before she could react, he grabbed her arm and spun her toward him. He pulled her so close that her inhale of surprise brought with it his scent of coffee and cologne and Colgate. His lips hovered inches above hers. She could feel his breath when he spoke. “I said, don’t even think about it.”

Next thing she knew, Blake’s mouth was on hers. He pressed against her fiercely. Without a pause to consider, she opened up to him, pressing back with equal fervor, inviting his tongue in between her lips to twist with her own.

The battle over the pen forgotten, Andy let it fall to the floor with a clunk and she wrapped her arms around his neck. One of her bare legs wrapped around his leg and Blake encouraged her to lift them both higher around his waist, his hands settling beneath her ass to help support her.

In this position she could feel what their kiss had done to him. With wild abandon, she bucked her hips against his hardness. Blake groaned into her mouth before nipping at her bottom lip. God, this kiss was fantastic. Better than fantastic. Nothing like the last kiss they’d shared—that one had been sweet and sensual. This one was frenzied and urgent and sizzling heat. That kiss was a first kiss—the type that ended. This one was a kiss that led to more.

At least, it was going to lead to more if Andy had anything to say about it. He owed her, and an orgasm would suffice as payment.

And considering the way he was entwined around her—or the way she was entwined around him, it was really hard to tell if there was a difference at this point—she had a feeling Blake wasn’t in any position to protest.

Thank the Lord.

*   *   *