Chapter 4
FOUR
Anna
Sister Ursula was right. There’s something wrong with me. I’m no different from my mother. I’ve spent my entire life judging her for her choices, judging her for falling for the unknown member of Cygnus Niger who rejected us both.
But the truth is that I’m just as bad, just as obsessed and stupid as she must have been. Because despite knowing it’s nearly as futile as my attempts to get off, I can’t resist changing into something cuter before Jeremy returns.
How dumb is that? Dressing up for a Friday night at home with my boss. A boss who sees me as a sexless kid sister. Or worse—a child.
And even assuming I could somehow tempt a man like him, would my fate really be any different from my own mom’s?
Women like us don’t get happy endings. Not with rich, powerful men.
Sure, my life may seem like a fairytale on the surface, but deep down I know that it’s a lie. While right now I might live in a million-dollar mansion with a gorgeous man and an amazing kid that I love as much as if he were my own, none of this will last. None of it is really mine.
Still, despite knowing how pathetic it is, I select a lacy dress from my closet. Innocent but sexy. It’s a dress that I’m comfortable wearing around Elijah but also know that I look really good in.
My change of clothes makes me feel more confident as I return to the kitchen. But as I resume my dinner preparations, my thoughts are consumed by the secret fantasies I’d never dare admit. Desires that are shameful if not outright obscene.
I’m lost in these fantasies when someone comes up behind me. Still clutching a bag of carrots, I freeze in front of the open refrigerator. I didn’t hear the back door open, but I know that it’s Jeremy even before he speaks.
“Put the vegetables away, Anna. I already ordered Japanese.”
My core clenches. His voice always does this to me. Every single time.
The cool air of the refrigerator blows against my flushed face. I breathe deeply, attempting to calm my racing pulse. Slowly, I put the carrots back and turn around. But at the sight of Jeremy, my heart rate skyrockets again.
I’ve seen my boss without a shirt before, but I’ll never get used to the sight. Fully clothed, he’s an attractive but introverted nerd. But then he takes his shirt off and he’s suddenly all muscles—like the male version of the sexy librarian cliche, except more dangerous.
Abs that well-defined should require a special license to display. Or at the very least, come with a warning label.Because Jeremy Chase’s abs are a threat to the cardiac health and mental stability of any woman he encounters.
Holy hell.Did he seriously jog through the neighborhood looking like that?
The thought of him going on a run shirtless awakens a familiar jealousy. A jealousy that hits whenever he mentions his too-pretty, too-capable executive assistant—or any of the other women at Twinge. It’s why I shot down the idea of Sylvia living with us, insisting that with me here, he didn’t need a 24-7 maid.
It’s embarrassing how jealous I am—embarrassing and unprofessional. I’m always worried he’ll ask why I’m staring daggers at a waitress or cashier or random mother pushing a stroller. He acts oblivious, but they all check him out.
He shoots me a quizzical look, and I realize I’ve been staring at him like a tongue-tied moron. But with him standing this close, I’m speechless, too aware of the aftershave he put on this morning mingling with the sweat from his run. It’s further proof that I’m a sex-obsessed freak; even his scent turns me on—sweat and all.
If I could get some distance between us, then maybe I could think straight. But he has one arm braced against the cabinet beside the refrigerator, trapping me in place as he stares down at me.
And oh my God, the way he’s looking at me. Now that’s new. I swear I catch a glimpse of something that looks an awful lot like hunger—but that’s impossible, right? Surely I’m projecting my own stupid lust onto him.
He steps back, releasing me, and I decide I definitely imagined it. Heart still racing, I close the refrigerator, hoping that if he notices how hard my nipples are, he’ll blame it on the cold air. Hoping that he won’t guess that it’s really because I’m imagining running my tongue down that sexy line of hair that disappears inside his running shorts.
“Good run?” I ask, praying I sound casual.
“You changed your clothes,” he says, brushing aside my question.
I shrug. “I wanted something more comfortable.”
“Comfortable looks good on you,” he replies, his voice a low drawl. “Although if that’s comfortable, I’m curious to see your idea of formal.”
Comfortable looks good on you.
A strange warmth settles in my stomach that’s different from the usual butterflies I feel around Jeremy. He’s never commented on my appearance. Not once. I’m tempted to ask what that’s about, but I’m afraid he’ll think I’m reading too much into the compliment.
So instead, I wrinkle up my nose and feign a tone of disapproval as I say, “Well, someone has to maintain some sort of standards in this house. Is that what you’re planning to wear to dinner?”
For a moment, he doesn’t reply, and I worry that I went too far with my teasing. But then he laughs and shakes his head.
“Point taken, angel. I’ll freshen up and change before the food arrives. Happy?” Not waiting for a reply, he leaves the room, still chuckling.
Mind reeling, I put the rest of the vegetables away. Did Jeremy seriously just call me angel ? It almost felt like he was flirting with me...
Surely not, but I can’t help but replay our conversation as I clean up my aborted dinner preparations. And that’s when I remember something else he said.
You changed your clothes.
An innocuous statement, but I could have sworn he’d already left when I came downstairs this morning. But obviously my memory is faulty. Sexual frustration has clearly scrambled my brains.
Still, it nags at me. But before I can give it too much thought, Jeremy reappears sooner than I expected. Once again, my gaze is drawn to his naked torso.
Ugh, how will I survive dinner? He’s barely been home fifteen minutes, and already I feel like I’m in some special circle of hell designed just for me.
Being around my half-naked boss has me so warm and tingly that I feel as if I’m burning up. But then his next words wash over me like ice water—words I’ve been dreading since that lousy delivery notification came.
“I almost forgot. A package came for you.”
Crap. I was so mesmerized by his abs and tattoo-covered pecs and biceps that I failed to notice the box he’s holding. Well, the box has my attention now.
I try to read the shipping label to see if Eden Exotics lived up to their reputation for discretion. Unfortunately, his hand covers the return address. So even though it will make things worse if he already knows, I do something I’ve never done. I tell my boss an outright lie.
“Oh, awesome! I was starting to worry Jenny’s birthday present wouldn’t arrive on time.”
A strange look flashes across his face. “Your lab partner Jenny?”
Crap. He knows.
But as Sister Agnes always said, in for a penny, in for a pound.
Deciding to brazen it out, I nod. “Yep, that Jenny. There’s this rare 90s band T-shirt she’s been trying to find for months.”
Jeremy shakes the box. The sound of another box sliding across the cardboard is unmistakable—as is the thud of a solid object inside it.
“A T-shirt, huh?” He doesn’t break eye contact. “Sounds like they sent the wrong order.”
Seconds away from being caught out, I try to think of another lie to cover for the first. But my mind is blank.
“Let’s open it and find out,” he says, voice as neutral as if we really were talking about a simple shipping error.
Maybe he doesn’t actually know?
“No, that’s okay. I’ll check later.”
“But you said her birthday was soon.” Jeremy frowns. “If they made a mistake, you should let them know ASAP so they can ship a replacement.”
“It’s fine. She’ll understand if her gift is a little late.” I hold my hand out, eager to get the package away from him before he decides to do something horrid like open it.
He makes no move to relinquish it. I step closer and try to take it from him, but he doesn’t let go. I tug harder. But instead of loosening his grip, he pulls the package back, closer to his too-sexy-to-live body.
I stumble. He steadies me with his free hand, placing it on the bare skin of my arm. I shiver as a spark of electricity shoots down to my core.
“Why so eager? I thought the package could wait?” he asks, a dangerous note in his voice.
I hesitate, tempted to confess, but maybe he’s just messing with me?
But then he smiles in a way that tells me that he definitely knows what’s inside that damn box. My face heats again—and not just from the shame of being found out.
No, I’m blushing because I’ve never seen my boss look at me like this. It goes beyond the hunger I thought I saw earlier. There’s something in that grin that feels almost... predatory.
“Well, Anna? Care to explain what’s really in the box?”
Thankfully, Elijah saves me from having to answer by choosing that moment to reappear. Oh my God, I love that kid so much.
“How long until dinner?” Elijah asks, stepping into the kitchen.
Normally, I might feel annoyed by the whine in his tone. But right now, I’m relieved at the interruption. My relief, however, is short lived.
“Did you shower after practice?” Jeremy asks, not taking his eyes off me.
“I was going to do it after dinner,” Elijah replies, a defensive note in his voice.
“Shower. Now,” Jeremy snaps.
Oh, wow, yeah… he definitely knows. I’ve never heard him speak to his son so abruptly.
“But dinner—”
Jeremy cuts him off. “I’ve ordered takeout, but you know the rules. You’re washing off the mud from practice before you eat.”
Seeming to realize that arguing with his dad might not be the smartest move right now, Elijah grabs an orange from the bowl on the counter and flees.
The moment his son is gone, Jeremy takes a step closer. This entire time, he hasn’t broken eye contact and there’s something about the intensity of his gaze that’s both terrifying and a total turn on.
Swallowing hard, I don’t look away—and I don’t let go of the box. I force myself to stand my ground. I’m in over my head, torn between running and throwing myself into his arms.
There’s nothing I can say that won’t make this moment worse. I know that, and I’m starting to suspect that Jeremy does, too. So instead I just stare up at him, trapped, and wait for him to make the next move.