Page 82 of Diego

But I need to find my damn panties.

I look back toward the floor, then under the island again.

Nothing.

When I straighten, Diego is watching me with the same innocent expression.

My eyes drop to his trousers.

More specifically, to the slight outline of something tucked into his pocket.

I look back up at him.

His grin turns positively wicked.

“You have them.”

“Have what?” he asks, far too smoothly.

“My panties.”

His brows lift with theatrical innocence. “Do I?”

“Diego.”

He pats one pocket, then the other, as though conducting a serious search. “It would seem you’re wrong about that.”

I stare at him. “Give them back.”

“Back?” His grin widens. “That sounds very certain for someone who was just pretending she hadn’t lost anything.”

“I was preserving what little dignity I have left.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m considering taking them out of your pocket myself.”

“Oh, cara, I do wish you would.”

I glare at him. “You are enjoying this entirely too much.”

“Immensely.”

“Give them to me.”

He leans back against the island, looking maddeningly pleased with himself. “I think you should make good on that threat to come get them.”

“That was before you looked so happy about the possibility.”

His laugh is warm and rich. “Ah. So now you’re denying me the pleasure out of spite.”

“Exactly.”

“Cruel woman.” He slips my panties out of his pocket and dangles them by one finger. “Come now. Just indulge me a little.”

“I think I've indulged you enough. I might lose my job because of this,” I snap.

His smile slowly falls off his face. He pushes away from the counter and walks toward me. “Blair.”