“Stop!” Dena shoved hard with palms flat. Chet’s broad shoulders absorbed the force, his body remained glued to hers. Turning her face, she tensed as his kisses—tender as they were—continued over her cheekbone and under her chin. “I said stop!” she shoved again, this time forcing her hands between. Chet released her, with a smug grin. Dena openly glared. “What the hell was that?”

“What do you mean? Ah Dena c’mon—”

“Pawing me like that!”

Chet gave a baffled look. He looked back over his shoulder, around the room, then to her pointing a finger at his chest. “Me? Since when do I paw?”

Dena fixed the front of her shirt it had come undone by the top button. She found it typical that a touch from this man would have her clothing shedding without permission. Also typical was the fact that Chet would and could have the worse timing ever. Today of all days he wants to kiss, hold hands, skip around the office. Please! She had no time or patience for his games.

“Dena look—“

“Give it a rest.” Dena eyes lifted from the stubborn button and her shaky fingers. Chet watched her until finally she was able to push the slippery fucker into the slot of her blouse. A slow satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He moistened his lips at her discomfort. He drew closer without taking a step.

“Leave.”

“Cut the shit.”

“Leave!” Dena pointed a threatening finger. “I’m at work! This is my place of business. I don’t have time for games anymore with you!”

“That kiss wasn’t no game.”

“Get out! I mean it Chet. I don’t—”

“—wait a fucking minute!” Chet’s voice thundered into the ceiling and bounced off the walls. “I said it’s no game. I kissed you. Now you act as if it’s an act of war?”

“It is! I mean was!” Dena huffed.

“A kiss? How is a kiss poison between you and me?”