Bedwrecker(37)

The easy smile is long gone. “Maggie, I promise you that is something I am very capable of doing.”

Why do I feel like he wants to add to that words like but can you?

A weighted silence falls between us as we stare at each other. “And we should forget about what happened between us.”

His response is to quirk a brow at me. “Now that is impossible.”

Infuriated, I have to remember to maintain professionalism. “Well, suit yourself, but I already have.”

The air around him thickens. “Yeah, I picked up on that a couple of times, as well.”

I tug the hem of my dress down with my free hand, because the thing about borrowing other people’s clothes when you are as tall as me is that the clothing is always just a tad too short. “Oh, one more thing. Just so we’re clear, I only let you drive because my heels get caught in the carpet on my floorboard.”

At that his smirk is back, and I swear it grows a little wider with the raise of his brow. “Oh, I think we’re clear. Very clear.”

I stare at him, feeling my palms turn clammy as my heart rate increases. “It really slows me down, and I didn’t want us to be late.”

Taking control of the gearshift, with my hand still on it, he shifts into drive. Little bolts of energy zing through me even though I quickly move my hand to my lap. And I swear I heard a sudden intake of breath that this time I know wasn’t mine because I’m not breathing.

Pulling onto the main road, he accelerates his speed and shoots forward. “Thanks for all that. Probably good to know where we both stand.”

Wait. Do I know where he stands?

Feeling an unexpected thrill from the Porsche, it takes me a moment to find my breath. “Yes, I thought we should be clear since we’re being forced to work together.”

The low sound of hard rock fills the small space, neither of us attempting any further conversation. Nothing to say, really, that wouldn’t end up back to what happened New Year’s Eve, and the aftermath, and me wanting to scratch his eyes out.

Keen taps his fingers on the wheel when a Def Leppard song comes on. Hard rock has never really been my thing, but I know the song, so I mouth the lyrics just to have something to do.

The GPS alerts him to veer right onto the 405. As he does, he looks over at me. “Since we’re being so open, and we’re being forced to work together,” he grins, “I have one rule when it comes to business that I should probably share with you.”

Turning toward him with amusement on my own face, I ask, “And what might that be?”

His sunglasses are on the dash, and reaching for them, he slips them on his face. His very handsome face. “The bottom line comes first. That means I don’t get attached to anything.”

Not a surprise. “Not anything?” I still ask.

He shakes his head. “Not anything.”

In business that is just ridiculous. “But what if the price of the finest silk from China were to temporarily increase? You’d stop purchasing it?”

His answer is immediate. “Yes.”

Horrified, my hand goes to my heart. I feel compelled to convince him to change his rule. “You can’t. The tie is the linchpin that pulls the entire outfit together.”

He glances over at me with skepticism.

“I’m serious. It compliments, strengthens, and softens all the other elements of the men’s attire without detracting from the overall look.”

Stepping on the gas, he starts to pass a car that is slowing him down. “Maggie, I’m telling you Simon Warren will cease production of ties before we overpay for anything that goes into making them. Here’s the thing you should know right now: every element of every product is on the chopping block. It’s the only way to turn the company around.”

Maggie.

He said my name again.

He.

Said.

Maggie.

Just like I remember.

Damn him!

Is he up to something?

No.

He can’t be.

But when exactly did he tell me where he stands?

Forcing myself to find my focus, I continue my argument. “Well, just so you know, the silk from China is not up for discussion, and I am certain Jordan will concur.”

“Jordan is the head designer, right?”

Gah! The way his lips move when he talks. It’s so freaking sexy. Keeping up with him despite my distraction, I nod. “Yes, and he is very attached to his silk.”

Keen laughs a real, honest laugh, and I smile at that. “I really am sorry,” he says again.

My mood instantly changes. The hurt coming back in the most unwanted way. “Please don’t,” I say, my voice going low.

“I just thought you should know.”

The sun is on the horizon and I have to squint. “So you’ve said. I get it.”