This thump, the one Dax caused, was all about fun and anticipation and how good that Hot Cakes t-shirt looked on him.

“Well, hey there, Ms. Kemper.”

“Hi, Boss Man,” she returned.

He chuckled but shook his head. “See, I can think of some ways that could sound hot as hell, but not here and not like that.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “That could sound hot as hell?”

He pushed out a chair at his table for her. “Sure. ‘How can I help you today, Boss? What can I do for you, Boss? Would you like me to clear out the conference room, Boss?’”

Jane took the chair, avoiding his eyes so he wouldn’t see she was actually unable to smile at any of that or come up with a sassy comeback. Because she was breathing a little faster, and she was afraid her fair skin would give away that she was a little hotter now than she’d been a few seconds ago.

“But no,” he said, sitting forward and shaking his head. “I think it would be better with ‘sir.’ As in ‘Yes, sir,’ and ‘Whatever you want, sir.’”

Dammit. How had she gone from “Oh, he’s so fun and flirty and I could really use a diversion today?” on the other side of the room to “Holy hell, he’s hot, and I really need to lose a few articles of clothing” now that she was sitting next to him?

“What do you think?” he asked.

She finally looked directly at him. “About?”

“Would you rather call me Boss or Sir?”

She swallowed. “Am I saying it sarcastically or seriously?” she asked.

He gave her that half grin that sometimes seemed very knowing. “Breathlessly.”

Well, at least the diversion thing had been accomplished. All she could think about right now was how green his eyes were and how she wanted to run her hand over his beard and how big his hand was where it was wrapped around his cup.

“Probably Sir,” she answered, deciding to be honest. Maybe it would at least throw him off his flirty game a little. “Boss reminds me that you’re, you know, my boss.”

And she might want to forget that once in a while.

That thought surprised and bothered her, but it was true.

His eyes flashed. “Sir, it is.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“For letting you call me Sir? Absolutely no problem.”

“For distracting me.”

“You need distracting?” His gaze dropped to her lips.

She pressed them together as they tingled. She nodded. “Lots on my mind.”

“Stuff you don’t want to talk about.”

“Right.”

“Want to play Ping-Pong?” he asked. “Best game for thinking things through. If you don’t have a solution by the time we’re done, I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

She laughed. “You and throwing money around.”

He shrugged. “I’m good at it.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “I don’t play Ping-Pong.”

He slapped a hand over his heart. “And I thought you were the perfect woman.”

Hardly. She was a woman juggling a bunch of balls that were starting to fall and bounce around all over the place. “Ping-Pong requires another person. I need something I can do alone.”

“Some of the best things in life require another person,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes. Oh yeah, he’d meant that dirty. She wasn’t just making it sound that way in her head.

“But all those things can be done by yourself too, and not dealing with another person can be worth it sometimes.”

“So you want to scoot the Ping-Pong table against a wall and play by yourself?” he asked, pretending to be confused, but one corner of his mouth was definitely curving up.

She actually chuckled. “Figuratively.”

He studied her for a second then pushed back from the table. “Stay here. I have an idea.”

Jane didn’t stay there though. She headed for the cappuccino machine. By the time she’d returned with her cup—topped with a sprinkle of cinnamon—Dax was there. With two coloring books.

“Seriously?” she asked as she took her seat.

“Yep.” He pushed one toward her along with a pack of colored pencils.

She looked at it. And grinned. “A coloring book of swear words.”

“Well, of course,” he said as if that should have been obvious. He reached for the book in front of her and flipped it open. “Nothing is quite as good for the soul as coloring a page that says This Is Horseshit surrounded by beautiful flowers.”

She laughed. “I have to say, the idea has merit.”

“So dive in.”

He opened the book in front of him as well. Hers was called Fuck Off, I’m Coloring. His was Chill The Fuck Out, and his page was a squirrel and said I Have No Fucks Left to Give.

She pulled an orange pencil from the pack unable to help thinking that Dax’s page didn’t fit him as well as hers fit her. Everything going on with her dad was horseshit. Dax, on the other hand, did give a fuck. About a lot of things. Lots of fucks. Even when it seemed he didn’t.

They colored without talking, surrounded by the sounds of the UNO tournament, for a few minutes.

Then Dax said, “So my dad thinks that all I do is fuck around.”

She glanced up but he was still coloring. She returned to the S in HORSE. “Why’s he think that?” But she had an inkling.

“Beanbag chairs,” Dax said wryly. “The fact that I make a video game for a living. The fact that I’m in business with my best friends and go to Comic-Con and am a hit on YouTube and collect Frank Sinatra memorabilia.”

“You collect Frank Sinatra memorabilia?” she asked, momentarily distracted.

“I do. Frank was the man. Suave, sophisticated, successful, but widely admired.”

“And sexy,” she added.

Dax looked up, at first surprised, then he smiled. “Sexy, huh?”

Jane nodded. “That voice? All the singing about love?” She’d never given Frank Sinatra a lot of thought beyond liking his music, but yeah, he gave off a sophisticated, bad-boy air. A lot like Dax. She shrugged. “I mean, he was just cool, you know? He just had this… attitude. Like life is short so you gotta live it your way.” She paused then couldn’t help but give Dax a smile. “I think he even sang a song about that.”

Dax chuckled. “One of my favorites.”

“So, yeah, there’s something sexy about a guy who just lives life on his own terms.”

Dax eyed her for a moment. Then said, “Sinatra was friends with mob bosses and had a temper. He hated reporters.”

Jane thought about that. “Well, they were probably all up in his business. The reporters, I mean. That probably gets old.”

Dax nodded. “What about the mob ties?”

“I know he was also a strong advocate for civil rights. Back when that was not popular or common for celebrities. He forced casinos and clubs to hire people of color on their staffs and wouldn’t stay at a hotel that didn’t let blacks stay there.” She wasn’t sure how she knew all that, but she definitely remembered learning that about Sinatra and being impressed.

Dax nodded again. “True. So that makes up for being friends with bad guys?”