Body Language. Millie Criswell

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excellent job. Moody was very complimentary about your performance.”

      Ellie’s eyes widened. “He was? Well, isn’t that nice?” Too bad the old geezer hadn’t told her about it. She couldn’t remember a single compliment crossing the man’s lips in all the years she’d worked for him.

      “Because of our past relationship, whether or not you care to acknowledge it, I thought I should meet with you before meeting the others, to smooth things over and see if you’re going to have a problem with the fact that I’m your new boss.”

      New boss! The thought made her gag.

      How could she stay on a diet with this latest development? She needed chocolate. And lots of it.

      “Of course I have a problem with it. But I can’t quit because you’ve been hired to replace Moody. I have obligations, and I happen to like working here.”

      He seemed pleased by her answer. “Good. Then we’ll have to make a concerted effort to get along and let the past stay in the past. Are you willing to do that, Miss Peters?”

      Ellie had despised Michael for so long that she wasn’t sure she could just turn off her hate switch and become civil, but it was obvious that was exactly what she was expected to do, in order to keep her job. “I’ll make a concerted effort to be civil, Mr. Devil…ah…Deavers.”

      Of course, there were degrees of civility.

      He heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid I’ll need you to do more than that. I expect you not to badmouth me behind my back. If you have a problem with the way I’m handling things, then do me the courtesy of bringing it to my attention. I won’t tolerate gossip in the workplace. It undermines productivity and morale.”

      She almost smiled. “Well, good luck with that because gossip’s a way of life around here. We all need some type of release. You of all people, should know that, Michael…uh…Mr. Deavers. You’ve done the job.”

      Michael’s brow shot up. “There are other forms of release, as I’m sure you know.”

      Ellie’s smile was borderline nasty. “I know quite well, actually. I can assure you that I haven’t lived a celibate life since you broke our engagement. Many men find me attractive.”

      Okay, many might have been a slight exaggeration, but surely some…well, maybe a few.

      “Of that, I have no doubt. I still find you extremely attractive, Ellie.”

      His words made her heart beat a tiny bit faster, but she did her best to ignore it. “Uh, uh, uh, Mr. Deavers. Those kinds of statements might be construed as sexual harassment. If I were you, I’d be careful. You never know who’s listening, or who is unable to translate or interpret your intentions accurately.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      “Good. See that you do. Now if we’re done, I need to get back to work. I’m behind already, as it is.”

      “Just one more thing.”

      She nearly groaned.

      “Our breakup had nothing to do with you.”

      “Oh, really?” Her brow arched and she folded her arms across her chest in a defensive posture. “Well isn’t that interesting? And here I thought I was involved.”

      Michael ran agitated fingers through his dark hair. “I’m not saying this very well, and I’ve been wanting to explain for seven years.”

      Ellie heaved a sigh, needing to put the past behind her. “Michael, there’s no point in—”

      “Please, just hear me out. I broke our engagement because I was scared, if you want to know the truth. I shouldn’t have rushed into making a commitment. I had serious ambitions. I thought a wife and family would hold me back. I realize now I was a fool.”

      “You were probably correct in both assumptions.” Particularly the fool part, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “Anyway, it all worked out for the best, didn’t it? You have the job you’ve always wanted. I remember you talking about working for the United Nations from the moment we met. You usually got what you went after, Michael. The problem is, you didn’t always choose to keep it.”

      “I HATE HIM! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!”

      That was the mantra Ellie recited as she hurried home, passing street vendors, storefront windows displaying enticing arrays of merchandise, dodging cars and impatient drivers who didn’t understand about pedestrian right of way, and not paying much attention to any of them.

      “I still find you extremely attractive.”

      “What bullshit! How dare he say such a thing to me?”

      Trying to work, to concentrate, after her meeting with Michael…oh, excuse me…Mr. Deavers had been nothing short of a nightmare, and a testament to her professionalism.

      But could she continue working, as if nothing was out of the ordinary?

      YES! She had to.

      Ellie had no intention of giving the bastard an excuse to fire her or find fault with her work. She was determined to stick it out and excel.

      Michael could just go and—

      Becky actually liked him, as hard as that was to believe. The woman thought he was charming, handsome and quite intelligent. And of course he was. She also thought he was a vast improvement over Mr. Moody. And of course he was.

      It had been hard to dispute that point, but she had tried her damnedest, citing Moody’s experience and wisdom, though she nearly choked on her words as she’d said them.

      Ellie couldn’t wait to get home to her new apartment, take a long, leisurely bath, exercise Barnaby, and spend a quiet, relaxing evening by herself. She might even build a fire in the fireplace.

      The nights were getting colder now, and she’d been dying to sit in front of a warm, cozy fire with a glass of Chianti and just let the world slip by for a while.

      She needed time to get her thoughts together about how she was going to handle the fact that Michael was now her boss.

      No. She would not think about him. They were through, finished, done as overcooked steak.

      Ellie looked heavenward. “Why me, God? What did I ever do to you? On second thought, don’t answer that!”

      Hearing male laughter, she turned to find Mr. Roselli restacking the apples in front of his market and smiled sheepishly. “You talking to yourself again, Ellie?” the portly grocer asked, a twinkle in his eye.

      “Yes, but I’m not answering myself this time, Mr. Roselli.”

      The older man chuckled. “That’s good. I won’t have to call the men in the white coats to come and get you then.”

      “How’s Mrs. Roselli? Is her foot still bothering her?”

      “She’s got the gout again. It always bothers her.”

      “Tell

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