Playing With Fire (Sweet Redemption) by Rose Francis Page A

her.
    This more casual look on him silently drove her mad—he looked sexier than ever, and she didn’t think that was possible unless he was shirtless.
    It was the peek of his chest, the peek of his arm under the rolled up sleeve. He looked like a partially unwrapped present, the hint ridiculously tantalizing, firing up her imagination.
    Janet suddenly understood the quiet tortures of her various outfits, and the outfits of women around the globe.
    She also realized her own choice of outfit was not as modest as she had thought.
    “Enjoying the view?” Eric asked, a slight smile playing at the edge of his lips.
    He took a sip of his drink, his eyes still on her, holding amusement.
    She remembered he was only drinking soda because of her—he was the driver and would abstain from alcohol for the night while responsible for getting her home safely.
    Janet smiled back at him.
    “Working with you the next few months is going to be something else,” she said, shaking her head in resignation.
    “It’ll be whatever you want it to be,” he replied.
    “That’s the problem,” she said, looking down.
    She was thankful he didn’t press.
    When she looked back up at him, she saw an inscrutable expression.
    He was looking at her intently but with none of the usual flirtation or sexual suggestion.
    If she wasn’t seeing things, his expression held tenderness.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    He broke eye contact.
    “Nothing,” he said. “Well, nothing I can say just yet.”
    And his words for some reason sent hope surging through her. She wondered what he meant, what he was hinting at. She had the feeling she would like it—no, be thrilled with it—and she wished he would just spill it.
    He was still looking away.
    She was surprised—she had never seen him not so bold.
    “Come on, you can’t just say that and stop,” she said.
    “I can, and just did Janet. Don’t press. Everything...” He stopped, taking in then letting out a breath. Then he shrugged. “Eventually,” was all he said, confusing her.
    Just then, the waiter arrived with their orders.
    As they settled in to eat their wildly different meals—her salmon and asparagus, his steak and potatoes—he paused in his chowing down and looked at her.
    “So. Tell me about yourself.”
    She finished a slice of asparagus.
    “All right. I’m in my late twenties, my birthday is in a few weeks on September twenty-sixth, and when my mom was pregnant with me, my parents had hoped I was a boy. Obviously, I showed up instead.”
    “I’m pretty happy about that,” Eric said, grinning at her.
    She gave him a look and he apologized. “Sorry, go on.”
    “His name was going to be Roland.”
    “They must’ve really wanted him.”
    Janet looked down.
    “Yeah.”
    Then she looked back up at him.
    “My mom was happy with me though, I never doubted that.”
    She looked away again. She was grateful he didn’t ask any followup questions about her mom—the pain of losing her was still raw.
    “Now what about you?” she asked brightly, needing to shift the focus.
    “Me? Well, I want to make love to you,” he said.
    Janet spat out the sip of peach iced tea she’d just taken and watched a launched drip hang off of Eric’s nose.
    She would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so struck by his words, and wasn’t sure if she had even heard correctly.
    “I’m sorry?” she said as he wiped off his face and brushed at his shirt with the dinner napkin.
    “You heard me,” he said, still busy with his task.
    “I’m just not sure I heard you properly...”
    He looked directly at her.
    “You did. Lucky for you, I’m willing to take it slow.”
    Janet’s heart felt like it would thump out of her chest.
    Anger , she thought. Think angry thoughts.
    “You mean to tell me that you keep coming at me to selfishly satisfy your lust? You know I can report you to HR for sexual harassment.”
    “But you won’t because you like it. You can’t fool me Janet—fool yourself all you