Fight with Me
Page 5

Nate laughs, a low chuckle that tickles my insides.  “Why do you say that?”
“Because, you’ve shown no signs of attraction toward me in months, which is fine with me, and if I stay with you this weekend, we could both lose our jobs.”
His smile is gone, and his wide gray eyes go glacial.  “Number one, I don’t give a fuck about the no frat policy here.  Any relationship I choose to have, in any capacity I choose to have it, is none of their business.  And number two…”
He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulls me to him, slides his lips over mine, softly kissing me, persuading my lips open and I’m reminded just how well this man can kiss.
He must have taken classes in this at some point.
I melt against him and brace my hands on his narrow hips. His fingers weave through my hair and as this kiss goes on and on, my body relaxes against him in relief that he still finds me attractive, and in pure unadulterated lust.
“I definitely find you attractive, baby.”  He whispers the words against my forehead and plants a soft kiss there.
He caresses my cheek with the backs of his fingers and his gray eyes have softened.  “So, what do you say?  Spend the weekend with me?”
Chapter Two
What in the hell am I supposed to do?  Nate’s gray eyes are gazing into mine and I see a hint of nervousness that I’ve never seen on his striking face before.  He’s always so self-contained, so confident.  It’s one of the things I’m most attracted to about him.  I’ve felt pulled to him from day one, and not just physically, although he is something to write home about.  He’s also the smartest man I’ve ever met, and there is something here that I can’t deny.
But… and there’s always a but… he’s my boss. And the last time I spent time with him at his place, it ended in disaster.
“I don’t want to make things hard for us here,” I find myself muttering.
“Things are already hard for us here.  We’ve been struggling for eight months to pretend that there’s nothing between us, and we both know it’s a lie.”  He pulls away from me and shoves his hands back in his pockets, and I know he’s giving me some space, letting me decide.
I shake my head and look down at my shoes, planting my hands on my hips.
“Unless you aren’t interested in me, and if that’s the case, I sincerely apologize.”
I whip my head up at the chill in his voice and find his eyes narrowed on my face, searching me.  This is it, he’s given me an out.
Tell him you’re not interested.  Walk away, Jules.
But I can’t.  I just… can’t.  And it fucking pisses me off that I’m feeling vulnerable and confused.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper and close my eyes.
“Don’t over think it,” he whispers back.  Natalie is right, whispering is sexy as hell.  “Let’s just spend a few days getting to know each other better.  If we decide there’s no chemistry, fine, we’ll get back to business as usual, no hard feelings.”  He reaches out and runs his knuckles down my cheek again and his eyes warm, and I know I’m sunk.  “I’d like to spend a few days with you, away from here.”
I turn away from him and walk to his windows, looking out at the twinkling lights of the city. I want this. Two days with Nate, not worrying about saying or doing or looking at him in an inappropriate way, just being myself. Maybe we’ll hate each other by morning.
I doubt that.
I take a deep breath and turn around.  He’s standing there, his hands still in his pockets, looking sexy as sin in that suit, his face completely sober, his eyes searching mine, and I know I can’t resist what he’s offering.
“I’ll meet you at your place in two hours.”
A smile tickles his lips.  “I can pick you up.”
“No, I’d rather have my own car.”  He frowns and I explain further. “If you hate me by morning, I don’t want to be dependent on you for a ride home.”
“I’m not going to hate you, Julianne, but if that’s the way you want it, fine.  I have one condition.”
I raise my eyebrows.  “What’s that?”
“You will not run out on me this time. If you decide you want to leave it will be after you’ve discussed it with me first so I don’t wake up to any surprises.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “Did I wound your fragile ego that badly?” I ask sarcastically.
“No, you hurt my feelings, and that doesn’t happen often.  I’d rather not relive it.”
Oh.
Before I can respond he walks to his desk and gathers his keys, wallet and the left overs, locks up his desk and grabs a briefcase.  “Let’s go.”
***
Yoga pants, tank, Nikes.  Extra underwear, bras, jeans, t-shirts.  Jesus, Jules, you’ll only be gone for 48 hours, and that’s if you’re not completely sick of each other by tomorrow.  I survey my small suitcase, and then grab my new strapless grey dress with pink stilettos, handbag and accessories.  Maybe we’ll go out.
I throw in some toiletries, jewelry, and makeup.  Then I shove my iPad into the Louis Vuitton handbag that my obsessively generous brother-in-law got for me and load everything into my little red car.
Good Lord, it looks like I’m moving in.  Aren’t I?  For the weekend, anyway.