Page 46 of The Rebel

“Annelise, you’re being bad.”

She giggled. “Sorry, I can’t help it. This is very unlike you.”

“You’re telling me,” I sighed. “I’m not even sure what’s happening. I go into the office every day in the morning figuring that we’ll be good, and then…”

“You’re not!”

“Exactly.”

“He brings out the naughty side of you. That wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t your boss.” Her expression turned serious. “All jokes aside, you know this would be a bad idea, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Is there anything more cliché than the boss and his employee? Word would get out, I’m sure of it.”

“As long as you’re at least trying to do the right thing…”

“I am trying,” I assured her. “Very much so.”

“All right, then I’ll let you finish getting ready.”

I started putting on makeup, feeling a bit off-kilter. I hadn’t expected her to openly warn me. That was unlike Annelise.

As I applied mascara, I received a message from Anthony.

Anthony: Ready for tonight? I know I am.

I glanced at the message, deciding how to play this. These past two weeks had been… well, different. He’d given me a smile here and there. He was in my officea lot. Not that I disapproved of that, because it gave me an opportunity to admire thatperfect ass of his. I hadn’t had my guard up either. But why should I? It was good to feel comfortable around my boss, right?

Yeah, but comfortable and wanting to jump his bones were two very different things.

Potayto, potahto.

I was going to the bar to make sure everything was running smoothly.

If I had a little fun, too, that was all right. I just had to make sure said fun absolutely didn’t include my boss.

CHAPTER 11

ANTHONY

I was supposedto be at the bar in half an hour but was running late.

After I got dressed, I checked my phone and realized I’d missed a call from Isabeau. That was strange, since she preferred meeting in person, so I punched her number right away.

“Hi, Isabeau.”

“Anthony! Did I catch you in a bad moment?”

“I’m going to the jazz competition, but I’ve got some time.”

“That’s in the French Quarter, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind paying us a visit beforehand?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“We’d like to talk to you.”