Need You Now (1001 Dark Nights)(9)

His eyes narrow. “You’d have what?”

“You weren’t at the bar. I held a conversation.”

“About helping the bartender get a raise. I assume that was for my benefit.”

Indignation is instant. “You have to be kidding me. You think I’d have left your room if I was trying to seduce you?”

“You got spooked.”

“Finally you got something right.” I try to slide away, but the hand on his hip goes to the wall blocking my escape. My teeth grind together. “Let me by.”

“So I’m right,” he states, ignoring my attempt to leave.

“If you mean that I made a mistake. Yes. I came to my senses before I slept with a stranger who...before I slept with a stranger.”

“A stranger who what?”

“Who was a mistake,” I bite out, emphasizing every word.

“So you’re sticking to this story. You really want me to believe you didn’t know who I was?”

His insistence hits a manipulative note that is far too familiar and opens my eyes. “It’s you who knew, isn’t it? You’re turning the tables and deflecting. You were trying to get close to me to get to Meredith’s secrets. And now you’re trying to intimidate me into not telling her.”

“Tell Meredith whatever you like. Let’s go tell her together.” He straightens, waving grandly at the door.

“I’m sure she’ll find it interesting that you would sleep with a stranger in a place you’re trying to take over.”

“I’m not trying to take it over.”

“Right,” I say, reminding myself I’m done lying down in life. It’s never worked well. In fact, it’s always worked really badly. “Of course not,” I continue, “and I’m supposed to believe that you became a rich, successful CEO by being as careless as you were with me. Why would I?”

“I don’t deny it was careless but I own my mistakes. Do you?”

“I already owned it as a mistake.”

“Then put it aside or let’s go talk to Meredith. We’re wasting time I don’t have.”

“I just want to do my job.”

“Good. Then I need short, one-on-one meetings with each of the department heads here in my office.”

Glad to focus on anything resembling normal conversation, I jump on a response. “They aren’t all on duty today.”

“They have to come in because I’m not coming back and we need to leave for the Florida locations tonight. The fact that the family chose to expand to another state when they didn’t maximize this one is beyond me.”

“We?” I ask, barely choking out the question. “You can’t mean you want me to go with you. I’ve never been to the other locations.”

“Meredith doesn’t trust the regional manager, which is a problem that has to be addressed. She should trust her. That leaves you to help me.”

“Meredith’s the better choice,” I say, giving him the same argument I gave her.

“Exactly right,” he agrees, “and yet she chose you.”

Reading the undertone of the statement, I snap this time. “Stop accusing me of something I didn’t do. I’m not going to travel with you and she told me you chose me, not her.”

He ignores my accusation, firmly insisting, “You’re going.”

“Why would you still want me to help you if you obviously think I’m a problem?”

He leans in, the space between us dissolving to nearly nothing, the spicy scent of him teasing my nostrils. “Because the only way I’m going to find out if Meredith is playing games with me through you is by keeping you close.”

“She’s not,” I insist quickly, my stomach rolling with the impact of one bad decision I can’t take back. “I promise you, she’s not, and I didn’t know who you were.”

“Prove it. Do your job. Take me to the locations as requested and help me evaluate the operations.”

He’s an * times ten, but I’m trapped by my own actions and I know it. “Yes. Okay. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” Heat flushed my cheeks at the poor choice of words. “I mean—”

“Relax, Ms. Woods. I forgot a very important rule last night I won’t be foolish enough to forget again. I don’t f*ck where I work no matter who might think otherwise.” He pushes off the wall. “Go line up the meetings.”

“What do I tell the managers this is about?”

“I’m a member of the board brought in by Meredith to evaluate productivity. Anything else they need to ask me directly. Give me thirty minutes for each meeting.”

“Yes. Okay.” But I don’t move and neither does he. For several beats we study each other, the room somehow shrinking around us, and yet worlds separate us when only a few pieces of clothing had last night. He imagines the worst me and me of him, and as much of an ass as he’s being, I know he sees me as a trouble. There’s nothing I can say to him that will make him believe me, and nothing he can say to me to make me believe him, not that I think he cares about making me believe anything right now. He doesn’t have to care what I think. I work for him, not the other way around.

I turn away and reach for the door, and part of me expects him to stop me. Ridiculously, as pissed as I am at him, as certain he’s using me, or tried to, part of me wants him to grab me, push me against the wall, and take me like he didn’t last night. And I really think there is an insanity gene in my family I’ve inherited from my mother. Frustrated at myself, I turn to the door.