did he sound like a bad soap opera, complete with cheesy angst?
"What happened before, the embezzlement allegation, it's unlikely to happen again," she said softly.
He shrugged. "Whatever. I just came here to warn you. You've worked too hard to let a jack off like Bocelli mismanage your money."
A hint of annoyance flitted across her face. "Hanging out here for a week and a half doesn't make you an expert on my business or the people here."
"Maybe, but being around Bocelli 24-7 hasn't made you one, either."
Nicki rose and paced across the living room, agitation apparent in every stomping step. "Why are all men such arrogant bastards? They treat you like you're a moron, like you couldn't possibly make a decision more important than what to have for breakfast without their help. Even when you think you like one of them and want to have sex with him and call him over for that very purpose, you get some sort of speech--"
"What?"
Mark crossed the room in three steps and grabbed her arm. Nicki gasped, blue eyes flashing up at him with a mixture of fury and hurt.
"You called me over here to spend the night with you?"
She wrenched her arm from his grip and clapped. "Thanks for playing 'Jeopardy: The Home Edition.' You got Brilliant Deductions for four hundred correct and managed to phrase your answer in the form of a question. Someone get the guy an award."
"Nicki--"
Gesturing down to her outfit, she said, "Did you think I hung around here on my day off looking like this for the hell of it?"
With her sarcastic question, puzzle pieces clicked into place for Mark. Nicki despised talking business on her day off, but she'd invited him over. The last time he'd seen her on her day off, she'd been wearing yoga pants and a tank top with her hair in a ponytail. When he'd entered her apartment a few minutes ago, she'd been anxious and a little hesitant. Mark had assumed she dreaded reaming him out about bad rehearsals or asking suspicious questions about his interest in her accounting. In retrospect, Nicki would have been all for sinking her teeth into those situations. She thrived on solving conflicts and getting things done.
No, she was nervous, which meant he got to her. She'd been waiting for him to notice her appearance and do something about it.
Boy, when he screwed up, he did it right.
None of this changed the fact that Nicki was probably consorting with a suspected gangster. But now wasn't the time to talk about that. Now, he was going to make the most of this situation and try to influence Nicki's opinion of Blade Bocelli ... all while indulging in this walking, talking fantasy.
"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."
The sleek black brows arched up, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "At least you admit it."
With a half-smile, he nodded. "You look great. What made you change your mind?"
She rolled her eyes. "If we have to talk about it first, just forget it. Clearly, I read the situation wrong."
Don't say a word. Grab her, kiss her, take her to the bedroom, sink into her for the rest of the night.
Mark sighed. Why did he have to be a nice guy? "We should talk about it. I don't want you to regret it later."
The starch left her shoulders. She uncrossed her arms. "I'm sure of this. I mean, you saved my life."
His lust deflated faster than helium from a popped balloon. "I don't want you to thank me like that."
"You're misunderstanding." She shook her head and looked around the room, apparently searching for the right words. "You risked your life for me. It was brave. Heroic."
"Nicki, believe me, I'm no hero. It was a ... reflex."
"You have a lot of those." She smiled.
"Apparently so." He slowly approached her. "Look, I just did something that came naturally. You don't owe me anything."
"I didn't think I owed you." She glanced down, then lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. "The fact you had an instinct to save me tells me a lot about you. It's one of the things that makes me like you, even when I wish I didn't.
"What happened before, the embezzlement allegation, it's unlikely to happen again," she said softly.
He shrugged. "Whatever. I just came here to warn you. You've worked too hard to let a jack off like Bocelli mismanage your money."
A hint of annoyance flitted across her face. "Hanging out here for a week and a half doesn't make you an expert on my business or the people here."
"Maybe, but being around Bocelli 24-7 hasn't made you one, either."
Nicki rose and paced across the living room, agitation apparent in every stomping step. "Why are all men such arrogant bastards? They treat you like you're a moron, like you couldn't possibly make a decision more important than what to have for breakfast without their help. Even when you think you like one of them and want to have sex with him and call him over for that very purpose, you get some sort of speech--"
"What?"
Mark crossed the room in three steps and grabbed her arm. Nicki gasped, blue eyes flashing up at him with a mixture of fury and hurt.
"You called me over here to spend the night with you?"
She wrenched her arm from his grip and clapped. "Thanks for playing 'Jeopardy: The Home Edition.' You got Brilliant Deductions for four hundred correct and managed to phrase your answer in the form of a question. Someone get the guy an award."
"Nicki--"
Gesturing down to her outfit, she said, "Did you think I hung around here on my day off looking like this for the hell of it?"
With her sarcastic question, puzzle pieces clicked into place for Mark. Nicki despised talking business on her day off, but she'd invited him over. The last time he'd seen her on her day off, she'd been wearing yoga pants and a tank top with her hair in a ponytail. When he'd entered her apartment a few minutes ago, she'd been anxious and a little hesitant. Mark had assumed she dreaded reaming him out about bad rehearsals or asking suspicious questions about his interest in her accounting. In retrospect, Nicki would have been all for sinking her teeth into those situations. She thrived on solving conflicts and getting things done.
No, she was nervous, which meant he got to her. She'd been waiting for him to notice her appearance and do something about it.
Boy, when he screwed up, he did it right.
None of this changed the fact that Nicki was probably consorting with a suspected gangster. But now wasn't the time to talk about that. Now, he was going to make the most of this situation and try to influence Nicki's opinion of Blade Bocelli ... all while indulging in this walking, talking fantasy.
"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."
The sleek black brows arched up, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "At least you admit it."
With a half-smile, he nodded. "You look great. What made you change your mind?"
She rolled her eyes. "If we have to talk about it first, just forget it. Clearly, I read the situation wrong."
Don't say a word. Grab her, kiss her, take her to the bedroom, sink into her for the rest of the night.
Mark sighed. Why did he have to be a nice guy? "We should talk about it. I don't want you to regret it later."
The starch left her shoulders. She uncrossed her arms. "I'm sure of this. I mean, you saved my life."
His lust deflated faster than helium from a popped balloon. "I don't want you to thank me like that."
"You're misunderstanding." She shook her head and looked around the room, apparently searching for the right words. "You risked your life for me. It was brave. Heroic."
"Nicki, believe me, I'm no hero. It was a ... reflex."
"You have a lot of those." She smiled.
"Apparently so." He slowly approached her. "Look, I just did something that came naturally. You don't owe me anything."
"I didn't think I owed you." She glanced down, then lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. "The fact you had an instinct to save me tells me a lot about you. It's one of the things that makes me like you, even when I wish I didn't.
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