since he ran the show. “It should be enough that I want what I want when I want it.”
“First of all, that statement comes very close to temper tantrum territory.” The corners of her mouth curved up.
The movement distracted him, drawing his attention to the delicate sensuality of her lips. It was several moments before he realized that she’d called him on his crap.
With an effort he pulled his thoughts together and kept his voice even when he asked, “And second of all?”
“Hmm?” She blinked.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one distracted. “You said ‘first of all.’ That implies there’s a second thing that you wanted to say.”
“Right.” She nodded. “If the reason you’re asking me to work late comes under the heading of life and death, I’m happy to be flexible and accommodate the situation. Otherwise it’s overtime and not part of my contract for this assignment.”
“You have a special contract?”
“Yes. One that has very specific limitations on overtime. It was Shanna’s suggestion after she advised me not to take the job. I could show you the agreement if you’d like.”
Another yes-or-no thing that he was going to sidestep. “So, it’s not enough that there’s more work to do?”
“There always is,” she said serenely.
“I guess it’s pointless to say that since you work for me you’re finished when I am?”
“You’re certainly free to continue working, but I’m off the clock. In the morning I will be at my desk and ready to give my all for Hart Energy. But to be at my best, I need to recharge my batteries.”
Cal had a feeling she was laughing at him, and that tweaked him back into temper tantrum territory. Or maybe it was her calm, unruffled demeanor that made him want to ruffle her. Either way, something had him determined to get in the last word and maintain control.
“I would appreciate it if you would stay and complete the tasks that I’ve requested.”
She stood and met his gaze, drawing in a deep breath and holding it for several moments. “I’m happy to work on it bright and early tomorrow morning. If that’s not acceptable to you, feel free to fire me.”
This was not a good time to find out the problem with temper tantrum territory was that it bordered on cutting-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-face land.
“Don’t think I—”
She held up her hand. “Before finishing that sentence, you should know that no one else who is qualified for the position as your assistant is willing to come here and work one-on-one with you.”
He would deny it if anyone claimed her words stunned him, but that was the truth. Did he really have a reputation for being a difficult boss? A workaholic? Apparently his family thought so or he wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. Were they right?
Before he could come up with a response to the line she’d drawn in the sand, she said good-night and coolly turned away from him, heading for her suite. Staring at her trim back and shapely butt, he was again speechless, but for a different reason. It could have something to do with nearly swallowing his tongue. The woman had a body that would make a man follow her anywhere. Any man but him.
He couldn’t decide whether to be angry at her audacity in challenging him, or in awe of her nerve and composure while doing it. She’d surprised him again and not in a good way. And another thing. Why had he pushed back so hard for her to stay tonight? She was right about the fact that the work could wait until tomorrow.
He refused to believe that it had anything to do with keeping her there so he wouldn’t be alone. Lonely. He was either tired or just being stupid and didn’t know which. Or maybe it was both. That wasn’t a riddle that had to be solved right now and he resolved to focus on what he could handle.
He absolutely could get someone to replace her.
* * *
The next morning, Justine got ready for work. Cal hadn’t fired her, although that was a technicality since she walked away before he could say much of anything. It was certainly possible that he’d fumed all night and was going to can her this morning—face-to-face. But she hoped not. She wanted to open her own yoga studio, and the dream was so close she could practically touch it.
She’d certainly thought it over all night and had no regrets about putting her foot down to keep him from walking all over her. If anyone knew how short life could be, it was her, and no way she was going to burn the candle at both ends for a paycheck. If he sent her packing she’d simply find another way to put together the rest of the money she needed.
And he was supposed to be on vacation, for Pete’s sake!
She looked at herself in the suite’s freestanding, full-length mirror. Her long hair fell past her shoulders, shiny and straight. For work she normally put it up for convenience, but she might not be working much longer. If a small part of her was using every female asset in her arsenal to get on the good side of her boss, well, so be it. That was, of course, presupposing Calhoun Hart even had a good side.
Her silky blouse was off-white, sleeveless and tucked into linen slacks that were long enough to graze the floor even in heels. No chance of showing any bare leg. Plus lightweight enough for this tropical island climate. And professional.
“I am woman. Hear me roar,” she said to her reflection. “Meow.”
With nerves jumping in her stomach, she exited her room and walked, head held high, as confidently as possible into the villa’s main living area. It was early, but Cal was already up. In his khaki shorts and flowered shirt he looked like a tourist. The white cast on his left leg had her heart twisting with sympathy, proof it had not stayed strong and in solidarity with last night’s rebellion.
“Good morning,” he said. “I ordered breakfast.”
Her gaze drifted to the covered dishes on the coffee table. There was an impressive number of them. “I should get to work.”
“You should eat something first. It’s the most important meal of the day.” He poured coffee from an insulated pitcher into a second mug in front of him. “It’s breakfast. Break fast. Fuel your body to maximize performance.”
It seemed as if he was pretending their difference of opinion had never happened, and that was just fine with her.
“I’d love some coffee. Thanks.” She sat in the club chair to his right.
“Cream? Sugar?” He met her gaze.
“No and no. Black is great.” She took the cup and saucer he held out.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat and ordered a little of everything.”
“That’s getting to be a habit with you.” She was teasing. Sort of.
But this showing his nice side was turning into a disconcerting pattern. She’d prepared herself to deal with the driven workaholic from last night, not this softie who was hard-selling a well-balanced, nutritious meal.
