The Boss Assignment (Rogue Protectors Book 3) by Victoria Paige (red scrolls of magic txt) 📗

“I heard it’s good for libido,” he grinned. After a pause, he added, “You’re blushing.”

“It’s the Scotch.”

Antonio was about to reply, when a strong rap sounded on the door.

He opened it to the housekeeper bearing a tray. Ignoring Antonio’s outstretched hands, Ida walked right in, as if she wanted to see that Charly was okay with her own eyes.

“As you can see, Ida, the doctor is perfectly fine,” Antonio said dryly.

Ignoring his sarcasm, the woman lowered the tray on the coffee table. “I made you chamomile tea.” Ida straightened and looked back at Antonio. “Are you sure you want to do the massage? I can do it.”

“I can do a simple hand massage,” he muttered. “Go on. Get out of here.”

Huffing, Ida glanced at Charly one more time before leaving the room. Antonio closed the door and headed for his dresser, pulling out a shirt.

He returned to the blond woman who seemed to be in his every thought, every second in the past few days. “You’re going to need to change out of your jumpsuit. I need easy access to your arm.”

“Uhm …”

“You and I are about to get very intimate.”

12

“You mean my hand and you are going to get intimate, right?” Charly retorted.

At Antonio’s widening grin, she realized that didn’t come out right either in rebuttal to his sexual innuendo. A teasing that she had to admit made her warm all over. Something visceral changed between them as they each shared a piece of their painful pasts. It felt like they were teetering on the edge of a trust issue that had nothing to do with their working relationship.

“Here.” Antonio handed her his shirt. “You can use my bathroom if you’re too prudish to change in front of me.” He smirked. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

Charly grabbed the tee from him. “There you go again being an asshole.”

An arrogant brow shot up, fake outrage on his face. “An asshole who wants to give your poor hand a massage?”

At the risk of sounding ungrateful and petty, Charly decided to poke at his own arrogance. “Face it, Antonio, you can’t help being nice to me.” Her mouth twitched. “It goes against the grain of your scary businessman reputation, so you decide to throw me off by making these off-color comments.”

Antonio rolled his eyes and shoved the shirt at her. “Go on. Wear this.”

He rolled his eyes! Charly wanted to laugh. It was so unlike him, but he recovered quickly, and the planes of his face hardened in mild derision. She grabbed the article of clothing and walked to the bathroom. Halfway there she remembered she didn’t have a bra. Shit. Hopefully the room wouldn’t be too cold.

All she had to do was unzip the front of the jumper and lower it to her waist and pull the tee over. She walked back into the bedroom.

Antonio was waiting for her, lounging against the corner of the couch. He’d kicked off his shoes and had crossed an ankle over his knee. Scotch in hand, he watched her every step on her way back to the sitting area. He’d dimmed the lights, so it was difficult to discern his expression from where he was seated. An annoying strategist through and through.

“That was surprisingly quick,” he murmured.

“Surprised because I’m a woman?”

He sighed. “No. I was making conversation.” He patted the space beside him. “This will work better if you aren’t so prickly.”

Charly was about to say something else, but an invisible zipper shut her mouth. Though she could sometimes curb her tongue, Antonio seemed to bring out the worst in her. Was her defensive wall higher because it was him?

She walked up to him and he uncrossed his ankle from his knee and leaned forward. “Sometime tonight, Charly.” He flashed a grin that was still mocking. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

She sat on the couch with a foot between them. “So how do we do this?”

He poured an amount of a dark liquid that gave off the smell of sage. “I thought it was wine?” She scrunched her nose.

“Steeped in wine along with Arnica and twenty other ingredients.” Antonio scooted closer to her and gestured for her to put her hand in his.

“Secret ingredients?” she quipped.

His mouth twitched. “You know it.”

His grip was firm, fingers strong as he kneaded the pad of her thumb working through the fingertips and massaged her palm, her wrist, rubbing circles up her forearm and then her bicep. Charly was watching his fingers, but she could feel his gaze on her.

“Stop staring,” she muttered.

“I like looking at your freckles,” he murmured.

Her eyes snapped to his, seeing the hidden amusement in them. “You wanted a reaction.”

“I actually do like the smattering of those spots on your nose and cheek.”

“Well, I don’t.” Of all the things he had to pick on, it had to be the blemishes she thought ruined the clarity of her skin.

His brows drew together, humor disappearing. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He released her hand, glanced away briefly to get more Ferion and started the massage again.

Charly didn’t answer. It seemed vain. She knew other people found freckles cute. And they were. When you were fifteen.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.” Antonio sounded sincere. “I really think they are adorable. It suits your nose.”

She had to laugh at this. For a businessman of his caliber, he sure didn’t know the simple art of flattery. “You’re blunt.”

“I cut to the chase,” he admitted. “And I’m no good with flowery words.”

“I didn’t expect you to be quoting Byron while giving me a hand massage with that concoction.”

“I’m going to go up a little higher.” He slid closer and their thighs were touching. And just like that, her nipples puckered. His fingers massaged up her bicep to her shoulder. She could feel the heat of his hand close to her breast.

She squirmed.

“Ticklish?” he whispered, fingers manipulating the back of her shoulder. “There’s a nerve up here.”

“The ulnar nerve,” Charly said dryly.

He chuckled. “How can I forget, Doctor?”

“Are