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Her face tightened up like I’d offended her, which I supposed I must’ve. “Just stop,” she muttered, turning her face away.

Her body was telling me a different story. Breath panting in and out. Hands on my wrists, keeping them at her waist instead of pushing them away.

“Hear me out,” I began in my most cajoling, seductive voice.

“No. Someone’s got to tell you no, Turner, and much to my sadness, that task seems to have fallen to me, so here it goes: It’s an unfortunate part of life, sometimes, not getting your way. But the answer is no. I’m not going to sleep with you just to satisfy your curiosity.”

That took me aback. “I never said anything about me being curious. I’m ravenous. I was asking you if you were curious.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Not even a little? Never mind. My point is, I wasn’t saying I wanted to do it for curiosity. I want to do it because I’m earnestly attracted to every part of you, and it’s become a very . . . substantial effort for me to keep my hands to myself, and I’ve decided that I’d prefer not to. Emphatically so.”

“Well tough, boss. You’ll get over it.”

I took my hands away from her body and for a moment she held them before letting go. But it was just for a moment.

“Whatever you want,” I said softly.

I said it like I hated it.

I said it like I meant it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IT WAS SUNDAY and Ro was gone. I was bored and I missed her. It was pathetic, but I didn’t beat myself up about that.

I found other ways to keep busy. No, not writing. I needed my assistant around to keep me on task for that.

No, this was pure, ornery mischief.

I’d been working on it for a while, so it wasn’t solely impulsive. Ill-advised? Check. Terrifically messed up? Check. Out of line? Check.

All those things, but not impulsive.

I’d ordered Ro an entire new and normal wardrobe. Head to toe, everything from hats to stockings. I’d even ordered a collection of floral church dresses, modest but pretty instead of bulky and ugly.

I’d plotted it out better than I did most of my novels. I’d thought of everything, from business casual to her Sunday lazies.

The lingerie was completely out of line, especially the French maid teddy, but I’d never been known for my restraint, and that part of the prank had been an impulse I hadn’t even wanted to curb.

I gathered every hideous piece of clothing she owned and piled them up out back next to my fire pit.

I could have, probably should have, hired help for this, to get it done faster at the very least, so she didn’t catch me at it, but it was just too much fun. I relished every bit of the task, from shamelessly going through her things to carefully hanging up and folding every new piece of clothing.

It was a huge closet to fill, but I took a good stab at it.

The cherry on top was the aforementioned French teddy hanging conspicuously on the outside of the closed closet door. It was the first thing she’d see when she walked in her bedroom. It was perverse and inappropriate, and my favorite part.

She came home when I was still tossing her clothes into the fire pit, though I was close to done.

“What’s this?” she asked, no expression on her face.

“A bonfire of your lack of vanity,” I said smugly. I’d been waiting to get that line out for a while. Weeks.

She didn’t react. In fact, she didn’t seem to appreciate my clever quip at all.

It was a bit deflating. Her reaction was the sole reason I’d done any of it.