Page 43 of Sin
Then Mason’s footsteps echo down the hall. I sit straighter and pretend to be very busy on my computer. He appears in my doorway a few seconds later.
He holds the toy between two fingers, making it look even smaller. The sticky note is pinched in his other hand. His expression is unreadable. Which, on Mason, somehow means furious, amused, and one bad decision away from leaning too close.
“This your idea of a joke?” he asks.
I look up with my sweetest smile. “I just thought you could take it home to Mrs. Sinclair.”
His eyes narrow. I should stop, but don’t.
“You know,” I add, “give her something bigger than she’s used to working with.”
Opal makes a choking sound from her desk. Mason steps into my office and kicks my door shut.
I lift a brow. “That seems unnecessary for a vegetable-related conversation.”
His gaze drops to the corn in his hand. “This is not a vegetable.”
“It’s corn.”
“It’s three inches long.”
“It’s not the size of the ship, but the motion of the ocean.”
His mouth tightens and I grin. He crosses the room and braces both hands on the top of my desk, leaning in just enough to make my pulse trip. He sets the corn between us.
“Very. Funny.”
“I know.” I lean back in my chair, because he smells too good and I hate that. “I’m hilarious.”
“You left a dildo on my desk while I was on the phone with my wife.”
“That does sound bad when you say it without the holiday spirit.”
His eyes darken. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“What?”
“This.” His gaze stays on mine. “You trying to provoke me.”
My smile falters.
“I’m not trying to provoke you,” I say. “I’m trying to improve morale.”
“Mine?”
“Everyone’s.”
“By implying I’m smaller than a toy corn cob?”
A laugh escapees before I can stop it.
“It’s a baby corn, and, for the record, I only implied Mrs. Sinclair might appreciate the upgrade.”
His jaw flexes.
“For the record,” he says, voice lower now, “that is nowhere near my size.”
Heat hits my face so fast I almost hate him.
