Page 19 of Miss Manage

Chapter Ten

CHARLOTTE

There was something liberating about sitting at a bar in a large city like London. Surrounded by millions of strangers, I could remain unremarkable and unseen. Anonymity was freedom. Freedom from the constant need to be polished, decisive, and in control. Freedom from carrying the weight of a title against which everyone seemed to measure me.

For tonight, I wasn’t Charlotte Green, acting CEO of Arrow Communications. I wasn’t a woman with a team to integrate and reassure while cutting staff who’d have to look for new jobs. I wasn’t a mother balancing a custody agreement, an ex, and trying to show up for her teenage son in whatever capacity he needed her.

I was simply another woman at the bar, a dirty martini in hand, allowing myself the luxury of being anonymous for an hour.

Tomorrow I’d put the armor back on and go back to proving myself in every meeting, back to the endless fight to make “acting” CEO permanent. Then I’d catch my flight home and hope I could slip into the stands before the first inning of Austin’s game.

“Is this seat taken?”

Dammit. I hated the interruption of my moment of peace and hated even more the way my stomach fluttered at the unmistakable sound of Gabriel’s voice.

“The seat is available. As are plenty of others,” I replied coolly, sweeping a glance over the nearly empty bar. Monday night, hardly a crowd.

Still, he slid onto the stool beside me as though proximity was his mission. I didn’t turn. Looking directly at his face would only stoke the pull I had no business feeling. To be fair, I doubted many women would be immune to his looks. Good thing he had the prickly personality to act as a counterbalance to the temptation.

His low chuckle sent a shiver through me which I tried to disguise with a sip of my martini. The subtle spice of his cologne tickled my nose, and the heat radiating from his body bled into the narrow space between us. He wasn’t any closer than we’d be seated at a conference room table, yet in this setting I almost felt like we were touching.

I finally turned, only to find his gaze fixed on me, steady and intent. You’d think the fact that he was the competition, reported to me, and was stubborn and moody, would douse like ice water this ridiculous attraction I felt. Instead, my mind could only recall how smart and resourceful he could be and how, although his leadership style was the opposite of mine, he still commanded results from those who reported to him.

Suddenly, a treacherous thought flitted through my mind: if only we were strangers and he’d taken a seat beside me.

Not that I’d ever been the kind of woman to slip a room key card to a man I’d just met. But Gabriel Chambers? I had no doubt he’d collected more than his fair share.

“If I didn’t know better,” he teased, his tone edged with mischief, “I’d think you were stalking me.”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me? I was here first.”

He ignored my protest with an infuriating curve of his mouth. “What made you choose this bar? Out of all the places in London?”

I opened my mouth, ready to turn the question back on him. But then the realization hit me. “Olivia suggested it,” I admitted slowly, narrowing my eyes. “Which I’m now guessing is because you must’ve told her about it.”

His chuckle hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. It wasn’t the polite kind he used in meetings to smooth over tension or the clipped sound of someone humoring a joke they didn’t actually find funny. This was different. Low, genuine, unguarded, and sexy.

And because the sound was so rare, it struck harder.

“Yes, I told Olivia I liked the hotel she booked because it was within walking distance of one of my favorite bars.”

I bit back a comment, but the thought was there all the same. Given Olivia’s hopelessly romantic streak, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d purposely arranged to nudge us into each other’s orbit.

“Guess it’s provided us an opportunity, though.”

It annoyed me when he didn’t elaborate, forcing me to give the obligatory, “An opportunity for what?”

“To get to know each other as co-workers outside of the office, of course.”

“I’m not your co-worker, Gabriel. I’m your boss.”

There was that panty-dropping grin again. “For now. And please, call me Gabe.”

I could appreciate self-confidence, but his tone reeked of arrogance. Even the way he then ordered his Macallan Thirty Year neat dripped with self-importance.

It was a pity I’d never been attracted to weak men.

He sighed, clearly taking my silence as an inability to joke about it. “All that being said, I respect the fact you’re my boss.”