Layers(8)

What the hell? I glare at him, utterly perplexed. Is he really about to offer me a job? Based on what?

“Since you were so observant of the conduct and character of Stark Software’s upper management when we last met, I believe you could fill a role in our Human Resources department, as liaison between management and our employees.”

As soon as he concludes, I swallow hard and ease my breathing, reminded of what I told him, well … about himself. Anger is swelling in my gut. He’s crucifying me here, and it’s so well deserved. Now, what do I reply to that? What do I f**king say?

Finally, I’m able to shake off my prolonged state of silently absorbing the heat, and the barrier in my numb, dry mouth is lifted. I need to try to control myself. Well, what the hell …

“Mr. Stark,” I say in a firm voice, which results in an intent gaze that assures me I’ve got his undivided attention. “First of all, I should really thank you for the opportunity of considering me, as inexperienced as I am, for such a valuable position in your organization.” Cynicism clearly plays through my tone. “Though, I must admit, it does come as a surprise, as I didn’t mention any interest in the Stark Software Human Resources department.” I inhale quickly, collecting courage, and continue. “Sir, I still do honestly believe that having such an apparent separation between management and the employees is disturbing. I can only assume these restrictions are in place to prohibit access to management territory? This is, how shall I say, quite condescending and estranged. Is this the message Stark Software is looking to convey to its workers?” I stare at his indifferent face. His eyes, however, appear to have turned a darker shade, engrossed with, is that annoyance? Fury?

“An apparent separation,” he murmurs, echoing my words as if inwardly gauging them.

I inhale sharply and say “I, myself, would much rather work in an environment where people are reachable.” I frown at him. I frown at Mr. Daniel Stark. Goodness, I’m outdoing myself here.

His piercing hazel eyes bore into my slightly shaken brown ones, deeper now, making the butterflies in my stomach start a violent riot. He keeps his stare steady for what seems like the longest ten seconds of my life, still assessing my insights.

“So, Miss Grace, I understand that you’re rejecting my offer for the HR position. Can I assume that?” He looks at me, eyes stern, but that faint, annoying, smug curve occupies those damn disturbing lips again. I watch him, still completely baffled, waves of disquiet running through me. Was he serious about the position? He couldn’t have been. He hardly blinks, and his profound, prolonged stare makes me squirm in my chair. “So, if you are not interested in the position, can I at least invite you to coffee?”

Come again?

My jaw drops to the floor or perhaps to the level below. I gape at him, irritated and bemused. What the hell is he talking about now? What a change of direction, and how arrogant! I scan his face, trying to figure out his intentions. As I do I notice that he has a tiny scar on his left eyebrow and another deep one decorating his upper lip. The details of his face tantalize my thoughts, provoking again the herd of lust-fused butterflies at the base of my stomach. Focus!

“Well, what will it be, Miss Grace? Will you reject my offer for coffee too?” Daniel asks, making my heart race at a rate that I’m afraid is starting to afflict my health. Even my shoulders feel as if they’re radiating heat. I struggle for words but give up due to momentary brain lapse. Did he just come on to me? Did Mr. Daniel, smug, annoying, Stark just come on to … me?

“Miss Grace, you seemed so much more talkative the last time we had the pleasure of meeting. Have you lost your words now? Do you need a moment?” His wicked, satisfied, smile teases, annoying the living hell out of my state of confusion, the same one he just so gracefully flung me into. I do hear you, listening is easy. The talking part is not.

I glare at him absolutely astounded, his eyes still glittering with that “I have you at my feet no one says no to me” conceited air. I seriously feel like slapping him … after ripping his clothes off.

“Mr. Stark, pardon me, but you must be one of the single most arrogant people I have ever met,” I say, seething.

I take a deep breath, and as I exhale, words gust out of my mouth. “Do you honestly believe that after you’ve made me come all the way here, and humiliated me for the last few precious minutes, I would want anything to do with you? Let alone spend more of my valuable time on you?” Not waiting for any reply I add, “Valuable time which you’ve already so disrespectfully consumed.” His dismay at my verbal attack is palpable.

“Why, Mr. Stark, you were so talkative a few minutes ago. Have you lost your words? Do you need a moment?” Wow, did that just come out of my mouth? I’m terribly shaken, but boy am I ecstatic. Well done.

He recuperates in seconds and his baffled expression transforms. He’s collected, but he has that wicked glow back, dominating his eyes.

Next, to my complete surprise, he stands up and slowly but confidently starts sauntering toward me. Before I can grasp his intentions, I find him leaning his hip on the desk next to me, his knee almost brushing mine. Too close. My heart threatens to leap out of my chest as I gape up at his intent stare, staggered. His eyes hover over my face till they land on my lips, which traitorously part. The air is literally yanked out of my lungs at the lengthy pause of his stare on my mouth. My realization again who he really is, his proximity now, and these sexually charged currents running frenetically inside of me subside any minor composure I might have had before.