Page 72 of Fire in You
Skin flushed as I glared at him. “I don’t want to hear you say that. I don’t even want to know that you think that.”
Brock appeared to ignore that statement, because he asked, “When did you get those curves, Jilly?”
Emboldened by my anger, I held my ground. “Oh, I don’t know. When I wasnineteen. But you didn’t notice them then, did you?”
“No.” He shook his head, almost in wonder. “I didn’t want to notice.”
My brows flew up. “You didn’twantto? That makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t?” Those dark eyes pierced mine. “You were Andrew Lima’slittle girl.”
“I’m still his daughter, the last time I checked.”
“True,” he murmured, and then his gaze swept over me once more, starting at the tip of my head down to the pointy tips of my heels, then swept up again, lingering on my chest. “But not so little anymore.”
Despite my anger, I felt my nipples harden. I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. “Are you drunk?”
Brock blinked and his gaze shot to mine. “I haven’t touched a drop of liquor since that night.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Not one fucking time since that night.”
“Well, okay.” Feeling a little chagrined, I dropped a bit of the attitude. “Look, I didn’t text you to come over and talk about my—my dress or how you’ve suddenly noticed I’m not a child anymore. What the hell was up with tonight?”
Not answering, he glanced around my apartment. Spying Rhage sitting on the arm of the couch, he brushed past me, shoving the sleeves of his V-neck sweater up his forearms, revealing the brightly colored tattoos on his left arm.
“Well, just help yourself to my cat. That’s not—” I stopped as Rhage rose, stretching his kitty head toward Brock’s large hand, rubbing against him. Disgusted, I shook my head. That cat was also an asshole. “That’s bullshit.”
Scratching Rhage behind the ear, he looked over his shoulder at me. “Your language is burning my innocent ears.”
“Oh, shut up. You cuss worse than a drunken sailor tossed overboard into a swarm of tiger sharks.” Unfolding my arms, I walked over to the wine.
He raised an eyebrow as I took a drink from the bottle and then murmured, “You’re going down that route again? If so, I am so glad I’m here.”
Eyes narrowed, I clutched the bottle to my chest. “Okay. It’s time to get real. What was the purpose of tonight, and don’t tell me it’s because of Thanksgiving. You had ample opportunity to talk to me about that. There was no reason for you to hunt me down on a date, interrupt it, and ruin it.”
“I ruined your date?” He laughed as he straightened, facing me. “That guy didn’t have a chance in hell with you.”
“How would you know?” I fired back.
He took a step toward me, and I stepped to the side, keeping a safe distance between us. He kept coming in a slow, measured approached, causing a dizzying flutter in my chest. “I just do.”
“That’s laughable.” I kept inching away from him as he slowly followed my movements. “You even admitted that you didn’t know me anymore.”
“That’s not exactly what I said, Jillian.” His eyes glimmered as he lowered his chin. “You tell me one thing about little Grady that excites you.”
Excites me? My pulse was all over the place at the moment, and it had nothing to do with Grady or the wine I’d just guzzled. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Why?” One more step and he was about a foot from me.
My apartment wasn’t that large, so I found myself with my back almost against the wall. “Because it’s—it’s inappropriate!”
“Inappropriate?” His laugh was deep and rough. Sexy. A fine series of shivers danced down my arms. “Why in the hell is this inappropriate?”
“Because—because you’re my boss.”
“I am not just your boss. Have you forgotten that I literally had to carry you upstairs and put you to bed after you got into your dad’s liquor cabinet and drank for the first time?” he asked. “Or the fact that you’ve been there for me, for some of the darkest moments of my life? Helping me change into clean clothes because I was too fucked up on pain meds and alcohol to even know what year I was in?”
