wonder how he got that?
Contact sports? A barroom brawl? Neither seemed likely. Whatever the cause, the scar only added to the sensuality of his mouth.
She coughed into her hand and glanced around the room. Where had such an improper thought come from? Samuel Maxwell was her boss. He was, now that she’d made the commitment, her adversary. And if she was to win, which she certainly planned to do, she had to think of him as such. She could not afford to think of him as a man who had once caused her pulse to rev with a simple smile, no matter how sexy she found that little scar.
She coughed again.
Was the woman coming down with a cold? Sam wondered. That could work to his advantage. He was beginning to think he’d need all the advantage he could get. He sat across from Kelli, lounging in his chair and hoping he looked bored and unconcerned, but he was starting to wonder what he had gotten himself into. Swapping places hadn’t seemed like such a big deal when they had actually been, well, swapping places. But now they would be sleeping under the same roof. Separate beds or not, he didn’t like it. He liked his space and his privacy. Yes, that was why the arrangement had him so unnerved.
But as he clicked the pen he held in his hand, and studied Kelli Walters, a question nagged him. What was it about her that intrigued him so much? She was attractive, but with her unstyled hair and serviceable fashion choices, she certainly wasn’t as polished or poised as the women who usually drew his attention.
He inventoried her features—stubborn chin, high cheekbones, slightly upturned nose, and chocolate-colored eyes. Maybe it was those eyes that pulled at him. They held a hint of vulnerability, but Sam knew firsthand she was no pushover. She didn’t back down. She held her ground even when she had plenty to lose. Grudgingly, he admitted he admired that.
He recalled their first meeting, which really couldn’t even be called a meeting. Sam had seen her as he’d toured the warehouse with a group of managers. She’d been checking in inventory with her back to him, slender legs and slim hips neatly packaged in denim. Forget the fact that he was Danbury’s vice president and acting CEO, only a blind man would have failed to appreciate the view, and his eyesight was twenty-twenty. Then she had straightened and stretched with catlike grace, tilting her head side to side as if to work out some kinks. When she’d turned and caught him looking at her, he couldn’t help but smile. And she’d smiled back—seeming shy, interested and slightly irritated all at the same time.
Even if the company had not had a no-fraternization policy, their second meeting would have snuffed out any possible flirtation. The distribution center already had failed one Occupational Safety and Health Administration inspection. The inspectors were due back the day Sam had run—literally—into Kelli and her kids. Maybe he could have gone a little easier on her. He’d certainly ruffled her feathers, which he supposed was for the best. Again, his mind returned to the disturbing thought that he would be sleeping on her couch for a month.
Click-click-click! Her boss held the pen like a dagger, his thumb depressing the top at regular intervals. Was he nervous or just irritated?
Ultimately, Kelli decided, it didn’t matter. The show of emotion told her he was human. It told her that he could be riled and shook up by life’s curve balls. Well, he’d be thrown plenty of them once he stepped into her shoes. When her gaze traveled from the pen to his face, she discovered he was watching her.
He merely raised one dark brow, but she felt her face heat to be caught staring. At least that’s why she told herself she blushed. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that he really did resemble the debonair actor Pierce Brosnan. Throw in an accent and he’d be a dead ringer. Throw in the accent, she mused, and she and half the females in Chicago would be a puddle of mush at his feet. Thank God he sounded like the East Coaster he was.
Eye contact seemed to stretch interminably. Sylvia Haywood’s gravelly voice thankfully broke the spell.
“What do you say, Mr. Maxwell? Do you think you can handle Ms. Walters’s life for an entire month?”
His gaze cut to Kelli again, this time far more arrogant than considering.
“Her life for one month?” He shook his head as if insulted. “When I win, make the check out to the American Cancer Society.”
Kelli was halfway to the elevator when she heard Sam call her name. She was tempted to pretend she didn’t and just keep walking. When I win, indeed. The man was insufferable. But she stopped and turned, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for him to reach her.
“Is there something you wanted to say to me?”
“Oh, plenty.”
“I see. Well, can it wait till I punch back in? I think I’d prefer to listen to you when I’m getting paid for the privilege.”
He scowled. “My office is this way.”
He walked away without another word, obviously expecting her to follow, which she did reluctantly, mumbling oaths under her breath as she went.
His office was just as she would have imagined it to be: large, with imposing cherry furnishings and cold leather upholstery on the high-backed chair that was his highness’s throne. There were few personal touches—no photographs of loved ones, plants, plaques or little gadgets with which one could waste time when bored or perplexed. The room revealed little of Samuel Maxwell’s personal nature, which could mean he was an intensely private man. Or perhaps it revealed that he didn’t have much personality once one got beyond his uncompromising countenance and sexy mouth.
“Nice office,” she said with a smirk, telling herself it was the latter.
He glanced around. “It serves its purpose.”
“Ah, the no-nonsense type.”
“You’ll find, Ms. Walters, that there’s not a lot of time for nonsense when you’re running a business.”
He sat on his throne and she wanted to crown him.
“You’ll find, Mr. Maxwell, that when you’re raising children, you have to make time for nonsense.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we will.” She sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“I want to assure you that your employment will not be in jeopardy regardless of the outcome of the show, nor will this affect any opportunities you might have for advancement within Danbury’s.”
“Now, that’s a relief.”
“Is there a reason for your sarcasm?”
“No, sir. I’m sure any future promotions for which I apply will be given the same consideration as the last one.”
He frowned at her. “The last one?”
“I have to get back to the distribution center. We’re a little short-handed today,” she said as she got to her feet.
“They’ll survive a little longer without you.” He motioned for her to sit back down. “I just want to make sure you know that even though you’ll be in way over your head, the rest of the management team will be here to hold your hand.”
He
