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Chapter Nineteen

"Boring," he stated. "Worst, he's oblivious to you. How long have you been toiling in the dirt waiting for him to notice you?"

She stabbed him mentally. "Six months."

"And did he notice you for yourself? No. Your stock suddenly rose because I showed up there."

Glaring at him, she tried to tug herself out of his arms. "That's remarkably cruel."

"Yet accurate, and you can't deny that." He held firm, never wavering.

"You're an ass when you want to be."

"I, on the other hand, noticed you the first day you started working here."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you did. I sit in front of the bloody elevator."

"You were wearing a black dress and pink sweater that had a butterfly pin on it," he said, pulling her closer. "Your stockings had a run at the thigh, which you tried to hide under the skirt of your dress, but the dress wouldn't stay arranged in front of it."

She blinked, stunned. That was what she'd worn. The butterfly had been given to her from a foster mother she'd had briefly, as a reminder to have courage. And a man's briefcase had caught on her hose in the tube on the way to her first day.

"I see you," Joe said, urgency in his voice as he pulled her closer. "You try to repress your passionate side behind the prissy clothes and tied-back hair. You hide who you are underneath."

"Maybe who I am underneath is no good."

His gaze grew fierce. "Who you are is the best person. You're kind and compassionate. You share your lunch with those less fortunate than you all the time. I've seen you," he overrode her when she opened her mouth to ask how he knew. "To that man, you're a hero."

She flushed. "I'm nothing."

"You're everything," he said fervently, lowering his head.

She knew his lips were about to touch hers, but she still wasn't ready for the explosion of sensation. The kiss bloomed at her mouth and sparked through her chest, igniting at her belly, right at the center of her.

She so desperately wanted him to touch her. She wasn't picky-she wanted him to touch her everywhere.

No-she didn't want that. "Stop," she said as she pushed him away. "We can't do this."

"Yes, we can." He leaned in to kiss her again.

"No." She wiggled out from his arms. "I'm not the person you think I am. I won't be tempted by the chocolate cake smell of you or your delicious, delicious kisses. I don't want your fine arse or anything you make me dream of."

He frowned at her in silence. Then he said, "You think my arse is fine?"

Growling, she threw her arms in the air. "That's the one thing you pick out from that whole monologue?"

"It was the only part I believed, other than the bit about our kisses being delicious." He reached for her.

She moved back, putting her hands behind her back so she wouldn't be tempted. "No. I'm serious, Joe. I'm not doing this. I'm not attracted to you."

"Darling, that's utter shite, and you know it."

"I hate who I am around you," she yelled in frustration. She waved at herself. "Look at me."

"You're beautiful," Joe said, crossing his arms.

"I'm a mess." Her hair was rumpled, her makeup was smeared, and her eyes looked feverish with desire. She wasn't beautiful-she looked just like her mother. "I hate being like this, and this is who you make me."

Hurt flashed in his eyes.

She felt an instant stab of regret-she hadn't wanted to wound him. Her anger deflated. "Joe-"

"Don't go out with him, Em," was all he said as he walked out, leaving her awkwardly in his space.

The moment the door closed, she slumped against his desk. What just happened?

She wanted it to happen again. She'd meant it when she said she didn't like who she was around him, but she wanted him so badly her hands shook with it.

Heaven help her, she liked Joe Winslow.

She stumbled back to her desk, dazed, not sure what just happened except for one thing: her world had been thrown off kilter. She looked down at all the pieces of paper Joe had written to her. She should toss them and call Ben back to set up their date.

Gathering all the squares, she tucked them safely into her purse.