Blame It on the Blackout by Heidi Betts Read Free Book Online Page B

weighted footsteps as he jogged down the carpeted stairs and let her head fall forward over her computer’s keyboard. Oh, boy, here it came. The confrontation.
    She straightened in her chair a moment before Peter appeared in the doorway, looking even more scattered and unkempt than yesterday when he’d shown up on her doorstep.
    He was in his stocking feet and wore a pair of faded jeans that rode low on his narrow hips. The denim was wrinkled, as was the cotton of his plain white T-shirt, making her wonder if he’d slept in his clothes—and for how long.
    â€œLucy.” Her name came out part huff, part sigh. He ran both hands through his hair, leaving sandy-blond spikes sticking up here and there.
    â€œI’ve been waiting for you all day,” he said, apparently unaware that it was only nine in the morning. “I called your apartment a dozen times over the weekend. I even ran over to see you on Sunday. Where the hell have you been?”
    She opened her mouth to tell him it was none of his business, but he shook his head, waving a hand in the air to cut her off.
    â€œNever mind, it doesn’t matter. We have to talk.”
    Her stomach fell to her knees as he dragged a chair over and sidled up to her desk, getting right to the point.
    â€œLucy,” he began, elbows balanced on his thighs, hands clasped between his spread legs.
    But she couldn’t stand to hear him talk about what a lapse in judgment that night in the elevator had been, how they were employer and employee, and he didn’t feel that way about her.
    â€œPeter,” she cut him off, not quite meeting his gaze. “I know what you’re going to say, and I agree one hundred percent. What happened the other night was a mistake. We were caught off guard by the blackout and being unexpectedly trapped in that elevator. Neither of us would have indulged in such behavior otherwise, and I’m sure we never will again. Let’s just forget it and go back to business as usual.”
    Peter sat back, intently studying Lucy’s face. The alabaster skin, the sparkling violet shadow shading her black-lined eyes, the red-hot lipstick glossing her full, kissable mouth. She had a small beauty mark to the left and a little above the corner of that mouth, making him want to lean in and swipe his tongue across it for a quick taste.
    Speak for yourself, he thought. She might believe their sexual encounter after the charity dinner was brought on solely by the lack of electricity and his unfortunate bout of claustrophobia, but what she didn’t realize was that he’d been fantasizing about making love to her for a very long time.
    Sure, the city-wide blackout had spurred him into taking actions he probably would have otherwise managed to control, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say it never would have happened. And he most certainly wasn’t going to forget it anytime soon.
    As if that was even possible.
    Still, it was a relief to hear she was prepared to brush the incident under the rug rather than turning it into something it wasn’t or expecting more from him than he was willing or ready to give. That made one element of the situation easier, but not the portion he’d spent the weekend working up the courage to discuss with her.
    â€œThat may be easier said than done.” He kept his tone low and serious enough to catch her undivided attention. Finally she raised her head and met his gaze directly.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Instead of blurting out his primary concern, he tried to broach the subject in a more delicate way. “I don’t suppose you’re on the Pill,” he said, and then realized that was about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.
    Immediately her hackles went up. She stiffened, leaning away from him and folding her arms beneath her breasts. Those luscious, mouthwatering breasts that he’d kissed and fondled only two days ago. It was enough to bring his body to