Flawless Desire

JULIET

“What are you doing here?”

I gape at Caleb in disbelief. Not just because the sight of his designer suit in my dingy hallway is seriously out of place, but because just three minutes ago, I was caught up in serious sexual fantasies featuring that very mouth.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” Caleb’s cool blue stare skirts over me, and his lips curve in a dangerous smile.

That’s when I realize I’m dripping wet, naked underneath the flimsy short robe.

My face flames hotter. “No.”

He looks amused. “No?”

I pull my robe closed tighter around me. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I won’t be long.”

A neighbor opens her door and scowls at me. “What’s going on?”

I sigh. “It’s OK, Mrs. Kaminsky.”

“Is this another one of your fellas?” she demands. “Because I’ve told you about the comings and goings—”

I yank Caleb inside and slam the door, before he can jump to conclusions.

Too late. He arches an eyebrow. “Have many fellas visit, do you?”

“It’s none of your business.” I back up, putting a safe distance between us so I’m not tempted to jump him again. He glances around, and I’m painfully self-conscious of the small, rundown apartment, cluttered with makeup and shoes and books.

“Now, what are you doing here? And don’t tell me you were in the neighborhood, because I won’t believe that for a second.”

Caleb fixes me with an unreadable stare. “You didn’t return my calls.”

“I’ve been busy,” I lie.

“The rule is, you always pick up when I call. No exceptions. No excuses.” Caleb has steel in his voice, but for some crazy reason, I shiver with lust.

The man is turning me on even when he’s dressing me down.

I shake my head, trying to snap out of my daze. “Since when do I follow your rules?” I ask.

He glares. “Since you work for me.”

Do I? I pause. He’s looking seriously pissed, but that was a present tense ‘work’ back there, and if there’s even a slim chance I can keep this job…

“I owe you an apology,” I say quickly.

“Another one?” Caleb still looks annoyed.

I narrow my eyes. “I crossed a line, at the office. It won’t happen again.”

I stop when I realize he’s not paying attention. He’s looking around the apartment again, assessing it with that cool, calculating stare.

“Who do you live here with?”

The question catches me off-guard. “What?”

“Roommate? Boyfriend?