“You can?”
A slow smile lit his face. “Of course I can. I would have suggested the same.” He looked at the comforter, which she just realized had slipped a little, revealing the rounded curve of her breast. “We might have already goofed at the going slow part, though.”
“Well, it’s not like we have to worry about me getting pregnant,” she quipped, pulling up the comforter.
“Nope,” he said softly, leaning closer. He pulled down the bedding, revealing the top half of her body and she shivered all over, both from the cold air but mostly from anticipation.
“Christopher,” she warned, but the word was infused with as much desire as it was caution.
“I bet you’re neve
r late for work,” he murmured, nuzzling at her neck until it was hard for her to breathe.
“Not usually,” she managed to say, trying her best to stay immune.
“Today could be an exception.” He smiled against her skin.
His fingers were doing mad, wonderful things under the covers and she gave up. “I could go in late one day,” she relented, her head dropping back as her agenda for the day fluttered clean out of her head.
Chris chuckled, then pulled the covers up over them both.
* * *
THE WORKDAY WAS well underway when Lizzie straightened her jacket and stepped out of the elevator. For the first time, she realized she’d decorated her condo in a similar way to the offices—lots of black, chrome and white. It was professional-looking and impressive, but it didn’t have a lot of personality. Even the orchid at the main reception desk was white and in a black lacquer pot. The overall feel was rich and efficient but it wasn’t friendly or comfortable.
Damn Chris and his comments about her condo. Had she been so busy working that she’d unwittingly brought the office into her own home?
“Good morning, Ms. Baron,” the receptionist greeted, and Lizzie smiled at her.
“Good morning.” She went farther into the office, back to her office with the window overlooking the Dallas skyline. Maria, Brock’s secretary, popped up from her chair as soon as Lizzie passed by her desk.
“Lizzie. It’s nine-fifteen.”
“Sorry I’m late.” Lizzie smiled. “Are there messages?”
“Messages?” Maria’s brows went up as her lips dropped open in dismay. “Lizzie, you had an eight-thirty meeting with Mark Baker.”
Shit shit shit. The words ran through Lizzie’s head as she halted in her tracks. “Is he still available?”
“I’ll check. But he’s not happy and you know what he’s like.”
“Looking for any opportunity,” Lizzie agreed, her stomach twisting in knots.
“I tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up.”
She hadn’t because her cell had gone dead last night and she hadn’t had time to charge it before leaving for the train. “Give him a quick call and tell him I’ll meet him in my office...no, in Dad’s office. In ten minutes. And I’d love a cup of herbal tea.”
Maria gave a crisp nod and Lizzie felt doubly bad. “Maria?”
The woman turned back and Lizzie tried a smile. “Thank you. For everything you’ve been doing lately. I couldn’t manage this without you and Emory.”
“Keep your chin up,” Maria advised, her posture softening just a little. “Mark’ll try to bully you. Don’t let him.”
Lizzie grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
She made sure she was ensconced in her father’s plush leather executive chair and had taken a revivifying sip of hot tea when Mark strode into the office, looking like Mr. GQ in an impeccably tailored suit, not a hair on his blond head out of place.
“Sorry for the confusion, Mark. I appreciate you changing your schedule.”