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His scrutiny becomes a glare. “No need to pout, squirt.”
“I’m not pouting… and I’m not a squirt!”
Kaan points at me and turns back to Brynn. “Who’s the angry munchkin?”
Brynn watches the stand-off between Kaan and I with interest before taking back control of the meeting. “Kaan? Ada? Meet Meg Martin. Meg is a social media strategist and the best in the business. She’ll be working with you on your social media content.”
He isn’t smiling; worse, his mouth set in a tight line. “I’m not going to be getting any tattoos, am I?”
“I apologise for that.” Despite the tension between us I snap back into focus… time to land the client. “Sometimes my words get away from me.”
“And your hands as well, apparently.”
“Oh, bugger!”
Shut up, Meg!
Kaan crosses to the conference room table and my eyes immediately lock on his arse. A thin film of perspiration forms on my top lip as he walks… swaggers… away.
Is it possible to fall in lust at first sight?
Why, yes. Yes it is.
He turns to catch me staring at his backside and he smirks as he gestures towards a chair. “You’re a feisty munchkin, aren’t you?”
Growing up with my red hair and short stature I was called a munchkin or asked if I was a member of the Lollypop Guild, for pretty much my entire childhood. It usually ended badly for the bully in question.
My mouth drops at his insult, but as it’s not considered professional to enact my trademarknipple cripplemove on a client, I take a seat in the proffered chair, throwing daggers at him with my eyes. “I’d prefer you call me Meg, if you don’t mind.”
“Play nice you two.” Brynn pushes herself off the wall and indicates the door. “Ada? Let’s leave these two to have a chat. Why don’t we go down to my office?”
And then it’s just me and Kaan.
As soon as Brynn and Ada leave, I turn to Kaan. His eyes coast lazily over me. In an effort to ignore my tingly lady bits, I fuss with the files on the conference room table. These precious milli-seconds give me time to compose myself. “So, where should we start?”
With a gruff tone and a hint of wariness in his eyes, he retorts, “You tell me.”
“I guess we should discuss what happened the other night?”
“It was nothing. Just a bit of a cock-up.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“I’d been out with the boys; you know how it is….”
“Not really.”
“Come on, Red. I bet you knowexactlyhow it is.”
Arrogant.
Kaan hits me with what I’m guessing is his “rock star” smirk. He’s mocking me, trying to get under my skin—and it works. “I know you smell like a brewery right now. I know you can’t handle your booze and get into fights. I know that rather than taking responsibility for your actions you blame it on everyone else and then whine like a baby when things don’t go your way.”
Shit!
His lips flatten. A muscle in his jaw flexes and despite myself, my heart skips a beat. “Are you calling me an alcoholic?”
“Surely that’s not coming to you as a surprise.” I slide the newspaper on the table across to him. “Don’t you read your own bad press?”
