Talking Dirty with the CEO (15 page)

Her jaw went tight and he had his answer.

“Yeah, I thought so. I know you understand—shit, you’re the only person who does. But it still hurts when I make a mistake, and I know that. I hate doing that to you. I hate messing up with people I care about. So call me scared if you want to, but you’ll have to forgive me for not wanting to put either myself or someone else through all the crap I put you through.”

Especially not someone like Christie.

“Okay,” she said. “Have it your way. But don’t do anything you’ll regret, Joe.” She looked at him. “I know you won’t believe this, but sometimes you’re actually worth the hurt.”

No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t worth shit.

But Christie was.

And if she ended up getting hurt because of him, he’d never forgive himself.

Chapter Eleven

Christie hunched over her computer and tried to concentrate on the idea she’d had for an article on vintage computers. Nostalgia was always popular, and vintage had its own cool. She hoped Ben would go for it. She’d already decided to include a step-by-step guide on how to rebuild something like her Arkon
.

Anyway, concentrating on the idea was way better than the other subject her mind had refused to let go of: Joseph bloody Ashton.

After his disappearance on Sunday morning, she’d sent him a couple of texts asking him what had happened. His response had been late in coming and she hadn’t received it until that night, just a message saying he’d had to go see his sister and that he had some work stuff to do, which meant he couldn’t see her.

She’d been a touch disappointed but she understood. His work was important.

The following day she’d sent him a good-morning text, asking him if he wanted to come over for takeout and a resumption of their
Star Trek: The Next Generation
marathon. But all she’d gotten back was a terse refusal. Again with the work excuse.

She couldn’t understand it. He’d been so caring the night of her parents’ party. Supporting her all through it and then, back at his apartment, making love to her, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go. Yet now…this. Terse, three-word texts.

Tuesday her texts had gone unanswered completely, even the one offering to bring over a sheepskin rug and a garter belt. Which had hurt. So she hadn’t sent him anything else.

Wednesday…?

She glanced down at her phone again.

Wednesday, still no response. No nothing.

She’d bitten the bullet that morning and tried calling him, but it kept switching to voice mail. And since she’d left two messages already, she decided not to leave another. That would be way too pathetic. And needy. And desperate.

And she wasn’t any of those things, was she? Not after what had happened at her parents’ party.

No, after that night she was strong and sure of herself. Confident.

She didn’t need him. She didn’t need any man.

You were amazing.

The words on the screen blurred and she swallowed, her throat gone painfully tight.

Oh, who was she kidding? She
was
pathetic and needy and desperate.

And she needed him.

Why hadn’t he called her? Why hadn’t he responded to any of her texts? Why was he ignoring her? It had been four days. Surely he couldn’t have been
that
busy at work?

“You look miserable,” Marisa observed, pausing beside Christie’s desk on her way to the kitchenette. “Trouble in paradise?”

Christie had told Marisa about Joseph, trying and failing not to bend her ear about him every second she got. But she didn’t want to talk about him now. Especially when she didn’t even know why he hadn’t bothered to contact her.

“No.” Christie stabbed her mouse button and accidentally deleted a whole page of text. She cursed. “Everything’s fine.”

“Oh, sure.” Marisa perched on the edge of the desk. “Come on, tell your old pal Marisa. I’ve had no gossip from you at all lately and I’m getting desperate.”

Christie tried to ease the tension from her shoulders. “It’s nothing, Mar.”

But her friend knew her far too well. “It’s not nothing. You’re biting your lip like there’s no tomorrow and if you’re not careful you’ll lose mountain climbers in that crevasse between your eyebrows.”

The words on Christie’s screen began to blur again. Dammit, those weren’t tears. They weren’t.

“It’s really nothing,” she said, hoping her voice was steady. “Joseph isn’t answering my texts and I can’t get hold of him. I’ve left messages but…” She stopped, her voice starting to slide all over the place like a toddler wearing ice skates.

“But he hasn’t responded?”

Christie looked down at her hands. Yep, same old hands. Except they were blurry, too. Hell, that did mean tears. Either that or she needed her eyes checked. She blinked. Hard. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Perhaps he’s just busy.”

“Yeah, perhaps.”

There was a silence.

“Chris?” Marisa said softly. “Please tell me you haven’t fallen for him.”

No, she hadn’t fallen for him. Of course not.

Oh no, you’ve just plummeted off the side of Everest.

Crap. May as well admit what she’d been ignoring the whole week.

“Yeah,” she said thickly. “I think I have.”

The knowledge settled down inside her heart. Inside her soul. Completely and totally inescapable.

She was in love with Joseph Ashton. The guy who’d left her bed without a word and who was currently ignoring her texts and not returning her calls.

What wonderful freaking timing.

Marisa said nothing for a long moment, then muttered a filthy curse under her breath that had something to do with men having excrement in their cranial cavities. Then she said, “So what are you doing sitting here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve fallen for this guy, who and I’m sorry, St. John, but for the record he sounds like a douche. And yet you’re just letting him get away with not calling? Are you really going to let him treat you that way?”

Christie looked up at her. Marisa’s blue eyes were blazing with defensive anger.

“Don’t you let him treat you like that,” her friend said. “You’re worth ten of him.”

And despite her misery, Christie almost smiled. For all her faults, Marisa was loyal to the core and fiercely protective of her friends. But Joseph wasn’t what Marisa thought of him.

Yes, he was rich, successful, and just the sort of guy her parents adored.

But he was also kind. And tender. And complicated. And fascinating. And made her feel as if she could do anything she set her mind to.

Which meant she had to go and find him.

As it had the night at her parents’ house, a deep calm descended on her.

Yeah, no more sitting around waiting for him to call. No more denying she needed him. Denying she wanted him. She was over that, she was done.

It was time to go out and tell him exactly what she did want.

She pushed her chair back, the movement making Marisa’s eyes widen.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Christie grabbed her bag. “Can you cover me with Ben?”

“Uh, sure. Where are you going?”

She grinned. “I’m going to tell Joseph Ashton I want more than one night. More than one weekend. I’m going to tell him I want the rest of the freaking year. At the very least!”

Christie headed straight to the offices of Ashton Technology
.
The stylish foyer was incredibly intimidating, but she made herself approach the receptionist, some icy blonde with a “don’t mess with me” face.

The woman took Christie in, from the top of her untidily pulled back ponytail, down over her
“
What Would McGyver Do
?
” T-shirt and jeans, her favorite black biker boots.

“Can I help you?” she asked in frigid tones.

Christie put on the expression she used when kicking alien butt. “Yeah. I need to see Mr. Ashton.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but—”

“I’m afraid Mr. Ashton doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.”

Christie lifted her chin. “He’ll see me.”

“I hardly think so.”

“Dude, are you willing to bet on that?” She folded her arms. “Ring him. Tell him Christie St. John is here to see him. He’ll be annoyed if he finds out I’ve been turned away.”

The blonde eyed her. Then, clearly viewing Joseph’s displeasure as the lesser of the two evils, she picked up the phone, spoke a few words, then ushered Christie toward one of the elevators.

Christie wasn’t relieved. If anything she felt sick, her determination seeping away. Because it meant Joseph was here and maybe he’d had his phone with him, and had seen every single one of her desperate calls. Her desperate texts. Had seen them, then ignored them.

Nausea turned over inside her as she stepped into the elevator.

No. Of course he wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t that type of guy. Perhaps he’d been in meetings all morning. Been in meetings for the last three days. Yeah, that was it. Perhaps he hadn’t had time to check his messages. Or something.

In which case her turning up out of the blue was going to look really pathetic.

Christie swallowed, debating whether or not to just turn tail and leave. But then the doors closed and she was heading up.

Right. So she was committed now. But that was okay. There was the whole being-in-love-with-him thing and he needed to know that. Yeah, he did.

She didn’t know what to expect when she stepped out of the elevator. Maybe a huge corner office, a monolithic desk, and at the very least a piece of minimalist but heinously expensive sculpture.

But what she got was a large open area with long desks, beanbags scattered everywhere, people hanging around chatting in huddles or working together at the desks. Some had laptops, some had desktops, and some were fiddling with touch-screen tablets.

The whole place had a real energy to it. A buzz. Kind of like Joseph himself in many ways.

She was shown to his office by a guy wearing a Led Zep T-shirt and skater shoes, who left her outside the door with a low, “I’d watch it. He’s in a bad mood,” warning.

Christie set her shoulders, bracing herself. Yeah, well, she was in a bad mood now, too. So he could damn well suck it up.

A rhythmic thumping noise came from inside the office. Odd. She took a breath and pushed open the door.

The only thing about Joseph’s office that met her expectations was its size. It was, indeed, large. His desk sat in one corner, facing away from the huge windows, the top of it scrupulously neat. As though no one ever touched it. A treadmill stood set up in another corner. In the middle of the room sat a huge, squashy black couch with a coffee table next to it, the detritus of a whole day’s worth of coffee mugs on it.

Joseph was over by the windows, walking back and forth, talking on his phone. In jeans and a black casual shirt, he had a small red rubber ball in his hand and as he walked, he bounced the ball off the back wall of his office, caught it, then bounced it again. Over and over.

Christie stopped dead, watching him.

Oh, he was so damn gorgeous. Pacing up and down with all the lithe, animal grace of a big cat. Magnetic. Charismatic.

His blue gaze glanced over and she met it, felt the charge between them like a power surge.

Her breath caught, her mouth gone bone-dry.

Joseph didn’t take his eyes from hers as he continued with his phone call for a few moments. Then he ended it, put the phone in his pocket, and tossed the ball in his hands while he looked at her. The expression on his face told her nothing.

“So, what did you want to see me about?” The words sounded flat.

“I-I-I…” Crap, the stuttering was back. She swallowed, tried again. “Y-you’ve been a bit quiet these past couple of days. I wondered where you’d gotten to. I sent some texts…”

“Yeah, I got them.” His phone pinged and he pulled it out of his pocket again, glancing down at the screen. “Hey, look, can we talk about this later? I’m kind of busy here.”

He did look busy. Busy and distracted.

Doubt suddenly descended like a ten-ton weight, her earlier determination deserting her.

He had a point. What was she doing here? He’d gotten her texts and clearly he was too busy to answer them. Maybe she should just go back to work and wait. He’d get to her when he was ready, right?

Her jaw tightened. “Oh…um…sure,” she said. “So you’ll call me tonight, then?”

He didn’t look up, his attention on his phone. “Whatever. Make an appointment next time, okay?” Then he turned back to the windows, raising his phone to his ear, making another call.

An appointment. He wanted her to make an appointment. As though she was a stranger who wanted to talk to him about business. Not someone he’d held in his arms. Not someone he’d made love to.

Ice began to creep through her veins. She felt dismissed. Like a child told off by the headmaster, then expected to make her way back to the classroom.

She took a breath, wanting to say something snarky and sarcastic. Then leave, slamming the door behind her.

But a tiny, hard lump of pride stopped her.

How dare he do this to her? As if their time together had meant nothing.

Because it hadn’t meant nothing. She was in love with him. Freaking love.

She straightened as the spark of anger became a flame, licking up inside her. She’d been dismissed many times in her life, but to have this man do it to her was the one thing she just couldn’t bear. And she knew if she let him she’d regret it. Forever. She knew it as surely as she knew the layout of
Zombie Force
level one
.

Her hands curled into fists as she strode over to where Joseph stood with his stupid phone. “I want to talk to you,” she said. Loudly.

He frowned, not bothering to look at her, talking to whoever was on the other end.

“I want to talk to you now,” she insisted.

Joseph shook his head as if he was shaking off an annoying insect, beginning to turn away from her again.

Christie lost her temper. “Now, Joseph!” She whipped his phone out of his hand and stabbed the disconnect button before he could do anything about it.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, making a grab at the phone.

She chucked it onto the couch, out of his reach, and stood in front of him, adrenaline pumping through her, shaking with a strange combination of rage and fear and—weirdly—excitement. He glared at her, eyes glittering in the light, anger stamped on his handsome face.

And had she been the Christie of three weeks ago, she would have run. Would have turned tail and vanished out the door.

But she wasn’t that Christie any more.

She was strong. She was beautiful. She was brave.

And she was in love with him.

“What do you want?” he demanded. “I’m extremely busy.”

Behind her, his phone chirped happily and his gaze flicked to where it sat on the couch.