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Maggie shook her head. “Heels.” She stared at the mark. Once upon a time, she’d fit perfectly here. Now it all felt wrong. And it was Alex’s fault.
She turned and went back to the chair, sitting down with a thump. She grabbed the soda and poured, needing something to distract her from the memories.
Alex settled himself in the chair next to hers.
His closeness unnerved her and she moved her chair back a little, angling to face him but gaining some space. Today he was back in his usual jeans and blazer, dark blue and light gray respectively. The combination made his eyes look extra green. Or maybe that was the odd fluorescent lighting. She swigged soda nervously and swallowed too fast, the bubbles burning her nose as she gulped.
“So did you want to talk about the party?” she managed when she was sure she wasn’t choking.
Alex cocked his head. “Don’t you want to talk about your contract?”
Right. Contract. Money. Working for the devil. That was why she was here. She should be able to remember that much.
“Okay. How much are you offering?”
Alex grinned. “No beating around the bush, then?”
“I told you I didn’t come cheap.”
“The Saints don’t have a lot of money,” he countered.
“No, but you do.”
“Are you saying you want me to pay your wage out of my own pocket?” He cocked his head, something creeping into his grin that was more than amusement.
Something … hotter.
Maggie backpedaled. “Er. No. That sounds wrong. I just meant that you’re giving the team a cash injection, so you can afford to pay me a decent wage.”
“Some might argue that you’d want to help the team out.”
“I do. That’s why I’m here. And I’m not asking for a ridiculous salary.”
“Name your figure.”
She paused, studying him. “And you’ll just pay it?”
“No. It just gives us a starting point for our negotiations.”
“Negotiations?”
“That’s what you do when you make a deal. You negotiate. Compromise. Give-and-take.”
“I bet you do more taking than you do giving.”
That heat slid over his face again. “Oh, I give more than you might think.” His voice dropped lower and her stomach quivered in response.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t flirt with me.”
“Who says I was flirting?”
“Don’t play dumb either.” She ran a finger around the rim of her glass and it made a faint shimmer of sound. Then she looked back at him. “You’re flirting. You’re trying to charm me. Don’t.”
“You’d rather I was unpleasant?”
