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“Neither do I,” he says. His hand comes up to my shoulder and he turns me around to face him again.
My heart’s in my throat. There’s no doubt that I should walk away, but the pay’s great, and I have nothing to hide, so there’s no way for this man to hurt me. If I back down now, he’ll think I’m up to something. Why is it that when a person looks at you as if you’re guilty, it makes you shift on your feet, even when you haven’t committed a crime? I’ll probably never have the answer to this.
Looking him in the eye, my back straight, I make my decision. “Then we have an understanding.”
“I guess we do. Let’s seal the deal.”
I know exactly how he plans on sealing the deal, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it happen. Stepping sideways, I manage to get away from his grasp, and after putting an appropriate amount of distance between us, I stick out my hand.
Byron smiles, though it certainly doesn’t show in his eyes, and he finally reaches out and takes my fingers. But instead of offering a handshake like a normal person, he holds tightly, raises my hand, and places a kiss on my palm.
“I look forward to Monday,” he says.
“You can release me now,” I say, my face blank, though I refuse to break eye contact.
“Are you sure you want me to?”
“You’re an arrogant bastard.” I say sweetly.
His eyes widen just the slightest bit at my remark, and then a true smile flits to his glorious lips, shocking me more than anything else he’s done. “That I am, Ms. Beaumont; that I am.”
He releases me at last, and I flee the restaurant before he can say or do anything else. When I feel I’m far enough away to breathe, I stop and lean against a wall. What in the world have I just gotten myself into?
ChapterFour
McKenzie
I give my tile flooring a beating when I walk inside my offices. Blowing past my secretary, I’m thinking about slamming the door shut. It takes all of my legendary self-control to keep from doing so. Still, I get a measure of satisfaction as I take out my foul mood on my purse by tossing it into one of the empty chairs with a little extra vigor.
I storm around my desk, sink into my seat, lean forward, and close my eyes, resting my forehead on my hands and taking a deep breath. I’m out of sorts, to put it mildly, and more than a little frustrated. I should’ve turned down the job, but it’s too good to be true... which means it’s probably going to come back and bite me in the ass — hard!
“Meeting went well, I see.” I growl as I look up and try to give a semblance of a smile to Zach as he perches on my desk.
“I have chairs, you know,” I tell him, but it’s something I’ve said many times before. He doesn’t seem to like chairs, one of his many endearing quirks. “I don’t want to talk about the meeting.”
“You know we’re going to banter back and forth for several minutes while you pretend you don’t need anyone, including me, then you’ll finally cave and tell me all about it. So why don’t we skip the song and dance? It won’t kill you to come right to the point. Inquiring minds want to know.”
I again growl. Of course, he’s right. Knowing this doesn’t make me want to share anything with him., but if I don’t get this off my chest, I might go out of my mind.
Heismy business partner and therefore has a right to the information. It isn’t as if I’m acting weak by telling him what’s happening. Plus, I don’t have to fill him in on the sexual-tension part of the story. Everyone in the business world knows the Astor brothers have a reputation for being a pain in the ass to work with. Those men think they’re gods. In their defense they’re not that far off . . .
“Come on, McKenzie, how did the meeting go? Who was it? Please tell me we’re going to bring in more riches than we can possibly spend in our lifetime.”
“It was a horrible meeting,” I grumble.
“Well, we’ve had failed meetings before. Just because we didn’t get this client doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. My meeting went well, even though it was only a mom-and-pop place. We’ll make this work.” He can switch cheerleading points in a single breath. I like this about him.
“We got the job.” Byron’s a dirtbag but he isn’t going to force me into doing anything I don’t want to do. Maybe that’s the biggest problem. I’m worriedI’llwant to do many things with him — things I most certainly will regret.
“Alright, sugar britches. I’d never try to decipher the female mind, but I have to ask you: Why aren’t you a lot happier about obtaining another client? Until now, I thought it was just small-potatoes stuff that you consider a waste of our time.”
“He demanded that I personally work there,” I grouse, finally making eye contact with Zach.
His jaw drops and he’s silent, if only for a moment. “How in the world will this place run if you’re working at a job site?” he asks. A bit of worry has crept into his usually bright eyes.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m frustrated,” I say, my voice rising and my hands lifting in the air. I barely fight back the urge to yell.
“Um... do we need this client that badly? Who in the heck is it?” Zach asks, rapidly regaining his composure.
