His muttered curse made me smile. I'd chosen a black short-sleeved silk turtleneck sweater paired with a decently short pleated skirt in lipstick red and heeled Mary Janes.
Because he hadn't been around to manage something fancy with my hair, I'd pulled it back in a ponytail. "You like?"
"I'm hard." His voice was husky, and he adjusted himself in his trousers. "How the hell am I going to get through the day thinking about you dressed like that?"
"There's always lunch," I suggested, fantasizing about a nooner on James's office couch.
"I have a business lunch today. I'd reschedule if I hadn't moved it already yesterday."
"You rescheduled an appointment for me? I'm flattered."
He reached over and brushed his fingertips over my cheek, a now-habitual gesture of affection that was tender and fiercely intimate. I was coming to depend on receiving those touches.
