the hell. What was the worst thing that could happen if he told his boss how he really felt?
“Because Poppy Birmingham doesn’t deserve to be here,” he said.
He wasn’t sure what it was—his raising his voice, a freak flat spot in the background noise, some weird accident of office acoustics—but his words carried a long way. Davo and Macca looked over from where they were talking near the photocopier, Hilary smirked and Mary looked shocked.
At her desk, Poppy’s head came up. She swiveled and looked him dead in the eye. For a long moment it felt as though the world held its breath. Then she stood and started walking toward him.
For the first time he understood why the press had once dubbed her the Aussie Amazon—she looked pretty damn impressive striding toward him with a martial light in her eye.
He crossed his arms over his chest and settled back in his chair.
Bring it on. He’d never been afraid of a bit of truth telling.
2
POPPY HAD PROMISED HERSELF she’d speak up if he did something provocative again. She figured broadcasting his antipathy to all and sundry more than qualified.
Leonard looked as though he’d swallowed a frog. Jake simply watched her, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.
She offered Leonard a tight smile. “Would you mind if I had a private word with Mr. Stevens?”
Her new boss eyed her uncertainly. His gaze slid to Jake then to her. She widened her smile.
“I promise not to leave any bruises,” she said.
Leonard shrugged. “What the hey? Tear him a new one. Save me doing it.”
He headed to his office and Poppy turned to face Jake. His mouth was quirked into the irritating almost smile that he’d worn every time she spoke during their meeting yesterday. She wanted to slap it off his face. She couldn’t believe that she’d once thought he was good-looking.
“What’s your problem?” she asked.
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been taking shots at me since I arrived. I want to know why.”
He looked bored. “Sure you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t want to hear what I really think. You want me to be awed by your career and treat you like the department mascot like everyone else,” he said.
She sucked in a breath, stung. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“Well, baby, you sure took the wrong job.” He turned away from her, his hands returning to his keyboard. Clearly he thought their conversation was over.
“I’m still waiting to hear what you really think,” she said. She crossed her arms over her chest. She figured that way he might not notice how much she was shaking. She didn’t think she’d ever been more angry in her life.
He swiveled to face her. “Let me put it this way—how would you feel if your ex-coach suddenly announced I’d be leading the swim team into the next world championships because he liked a couple of articles I’d written?”
“You think I got this job under false pretenses.”
“Got a journalism degree?” he asked.
“No.”
“Done an internship?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“Then, yes, I think you didn’t earn this job.”
She blinked. He spread his hands wide.
“You asked,” he said.
“Actually, you offered—to the whole office.”
“If you think some of them haven’t thought the same thing.” He shrugged.
She glanced at the other journalists who were all eavesdropping shamelessly. Was it possible some of them shared Jake’s opinion?
“Leonard came knocking on my door, not the other way around.” She sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it.
“You accepted the offer,” he said. “You could have said no.”
“So I’m not allowed to have a career outside of swimming?” she asked.
“Sure you are. You’re even allowed to have this career, since we all know the Australian public is so in love with its sporting heroes they’ll probably eat up anything you write with a spoon, even if you can’t string two words together. Just don’t expect me to like it,” he said. “I worked long hours on tin-pot newspapers across the country to get where I am. So has everyone else on this team. I’m not going to give Leonard a standing ovation for valuing my skills so lightly he’s slotted a high school graduate into a leading commentator’s role just because she looks good in Lycra and happens to swim a mean hundred-meter freestyle. Never going to happen.”
Poppy stared at him. He stared back, no longer bored or cool.
“You might have come to this job by working your way through the ranks, but I’ve earned my chance, too.” She hated that her voice quavered, but she wasn’t about to retreat. “I’m not going to apologize for the fact that I have a public profile. I’ve represented this country. I’ve swum knowing that I’m holding other people’s dreams in my hands, not just my own. You don’t know what that’s like, the kind of pressure that comes with it. And while you’re on your high horse judging me, you might want to think about the fact that you wouldn’t even have a job if it wasn’t for people like me sweating it out every day, daring to dream and daring to try to make those dreams a reality. You’d just be a commentator with nothing to say.”
She turned her back on him and walked away.
The other journalists were suddenly very busy, tapping away at their keyboards or shuffling through their papers. She sat at her desk and stared hard at her computer screen, hoping it looked as though she was reading, when in fact, she was trying very, very hard not to cry.
Not because she was upset but because she was furious. Her tear ducts always wanted to get involved when she got angry, but she would rather staple something to her forehead than give Jake the Snake the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Ten minutes later, Macca approached.
“I was just in, speaking to Leonard. I’m going to work with you on your first few articles, until you find your feet,” he said.
She stared at him, chin high. “What did he bribe you with?”
“Actually, I volunteered.”
She blinked.
“What
