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She slammed her professionalism back into place. It had slipped a little. “When I have a firm idea of what you want, Mr. Ellis, I’ll draw up plans and present them to you.”
Her notes weren’t all technically about the project—some were her waxing poetic about his muscles, his eyes, his ass—and she couldn’t exactly admit that.
He was glowering. Had she hit a nerve somehow?
“You think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you?”
What? Where on earth had he gotten that impression?
“No,” she replied, not liking his sudden turn of mood. Considering the fact that she hadn’t known what this place was when she’d gotten here, she’d thought she’d maintained a calm and accepting demeanor. Why was he being so pissy all of a sudden? She also felt like an idiot for having been caught writing schoolgirl-crush-type notes on her plans. Dominant or not, she was damned if she was going to let this guy walk all over her. “Do you have an issue with women who are self-confident?”
He let his gaze trail down her body and back up again, as if she was up for auction. Jerk. “I have a problem with people who are fake and uptight.”
“I’m not fake and uptight!” She glared at him, stung. “What a horrible thing to say.”
“ . . . and yet you know it’s true.” He handed her notebook back.
Oh my God! What a jerk! “Yeah, well, at least I wasn’t late for our meeting.”
Shit. That was petty. Don’t say anything worse, Juliet. Save this job. It’s going to be worth it.
“Punctuality is for people who aren’t busy enough.” He glared at her. “And what’s with the haute couture get up? You rep what’s basically a glorified construction company—you shouldn’t be giving yourself airs.”
The fucking nerve of the man. Fuck the job. They didn’t need or want to work with this asshole. “At least I’m not a slob.”
“I might be a slob, but you’ve been eye-fucking me for half an hour, princess.”
“Oh! You’re . . .” She stopped, not sure what to say without swearing at the asshat. “You wish.”
“You’re really going to deny it?” He moved closer, until they were toe to toe.
Her breath hitched. She should have been scared, but she was just pissed. And maybe horny. How was that even an acceptable combination? Shouldn’t one feeling short out the other?
“I—” She was shaking now, but it was lust and she didn’t know what to do with it all.
“Take your hair down, Juliet,” he commanded quietly.
“No,” she whispered desperately, but more to herself than him. She never did anything wild. Ever.
His smile wasn’t friendly, and she didn’t care. “Is that your final answer? I think we both know you want to.”
Without conscious thought, her trembling hands went to her hair, and she removed the pins holding it in place. It slid down, and his hot, appreciative gaze held hers.
“Good girl.”
Those two words slammed through her with the force of a punch. She tried to find the offended setting in her mind, but found only lust and an absurd pleasure in having pleased him.
He was so close—his mouth hovering over hers, his breath brushing her lips. She held her own breath, waiting for the kiss that was coming, hoping her legs would keep holding her up. Her brain felt funny—fuzzy, almost woozy—and her entire body was hyperaware of him.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s what I thought.” He stepped back, his smile coolly polite, and she was left trying to scrape her melted gray matter back together.
“Make an appointment with Grant if and when you’re ready to come back, Ms. Callahan,” he said, his gaze dispassionate. “Do some research about BDSM first so you don’t waste any more of my time.”
And, like the asshole he was, William Ellis walked away and left her there to find her own way out.
Chapter Two
“ . . . and I could have sworn he was going to kiss me,” Juliet finished.
