Page 20 of Sweet Surrender

“Come on.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Lighten up. That’s all I was trying to say.”

His attitude set my teeth on edge. If this kept up much longer, I’d commit my first murder. “Let’s call it what it really was.” My heels clicked against the floor as I followed him through the living room while he walked around, grabbing his keys and phone. “You were hitting on her, and she was too busy giggling and blushing to remember she was here to do a job.”

“Try not to sound so jealous.” He shot me a snide look over his shoulder, telling me he had no idea how close he was coming to his last breath. “Admit it. The interview went even better than you imagined, and you’re pissy over me getting along with a hot girl.”

No. That wasn’t it at all. Was it? Resentment threatened to choke me by the time I found my voice again. “So if she had been unattractive, you would have clammed up? Is that what you’re saying? This entire thing rode on whether or not you could imagine fucking her?”

“Give me a break!” Of course, he had to play dumb as he turned my way, rolling his eyes and sighing like he was a victim. “Could you take the stick out of your ass for a minute? Why does everything have to be a fucking fight with you?”

“Why does everything have to be an opportunity for you to get your dick wet?” Was I screaming? Not exactly, but I was damn close. It was either that or hit him at this point. “What is it going to take for you to understand? You ended up where you are now because of shit like what you said to Gretchen during that interview. ‘I could get a deal for you,’” I quoted, deepening my voice and puffing out my chest. “Maybe you can come sit on my lap, and we’ll discuss specifics.”

“I didn’t say that,” he growled out, lowering his brow before he began to slowly advance. I didn’t like the light in his eyes. There was something dangerous in them. Foreboding.

Holding up my chin, I laughed bitterly. “You didn’t have to! It was obvious that was what you meant!”

“It wasn’t.” He blinked rapidly, scowling while searching my face. “I’m serious. That was not what I meant.”

“You could have fucking fooled me, Noah. There is your problem in a nutshell. You don’t stop to think about how people might take the things you say, which is why all the PR in the world isn’t going to help you. This is a mistake.” The words fell from my lips before I knew what I was saying. By the time I realized what I’d said, it was too late. I had to follow through.

And it wasn’t like I was wrong—quite the opposite. There was no hope of helping him if it meant witnessing his casual, careless attitude and arrogance toward women. I thought I hated him before this. It turned out I had barely scratched the surface of what was possible.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded when I turned, marching toward the door.

“Figure it out,” I snapped. To hell with this. It was a mistake from the beginning. “I am not going to sit around and watch you sabotage yourself. Manage this on your own because I can’t help you.”

“Are you serious?“ Damn that long stride of his. He made it to the door a split second before I did, slamming his hand against the surface, making it impossible for me to pull it open. Leaning over me, he growled out, “We have an agreement, you and I. You don’t get to walk away.”

“Read the contract,” I suggested, turning around with a sigh that I hoped would cover up how nervous he made me, being so close. The intensity behind his stony glare lifted the hair on my neck. “You’ll find I can do this. You’ve only paid me a nonrefundable deposit, and either party is free to walk away at any time. Or does the big, bad businessman not bother reading contracts before he signs them?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I didn’t know you were a quitter.”

A laugh bubbled out of me before I knew it was coming. “Please. Are we children? You think it’s that easy to goad me into doing this?”

Looking me up and down, he snickered, shaking his head. “Call it what you want, but I know a quitter when I see one.”

“And I know a stupid, scared little boy when I see one.” He didn’t want me to leave? That was fine. Then he would have to hear what was on my mind. “You’re too scared to sit through an interview without falling back on what you do best… trying to charm and seduce your way out of it.”

“Is that so?” Instead of backing off, he leaned in until I was trapped between him and the door. Dear God, he was overwhelming. “Tell me more about myself,” he murmured in a deceptively soft voice. I felt his breath on my face and shivered, then hoped like hell he didn’t notice. My body didn’t know what to do any more than my overheated brain did.

One thing I was sure of. No way was I going to back down now. Not even when his nearness left my knees trembling and my heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. “You can’t help yourself even when the fucking answers are handed to you. All you had to do was play along, but you couldn’t. I can’t trust you. I don’t work with people I can’t trust to act like adults.”

His head bobbed slowly while a snide smirk twisted his generous mouth. “Right. Keep telling yourself that’s why you’re too chickenshit to see this through. Or too bitter.” At least he backed off, allowing me to breathe. It was easier to keep a grip on myself when I wasn’t battling the tantalizing scent of his spicy cologne.

Yet another reason why this was a doomed arrangement. “Good luck clawing your way out of the hole you dug.” I yanked the door open before he could stop me and walked out without looking back.

I had never quit anything in my life, but there was a first time for everything. At that point, it was either walking away and absorbing the blowback or sticking around and associating myself with what would inevitably come crashing down.

All the while, wondering why I had never wanted to kill him more than I had when I saw him smile at Gretchen.

10

NOAH

“Ihave to say, the numbers look good. Much along the lines of what we discussed weeks back.” Arthur Pine glanced across the table toward his brother, Jim, who nodded his agreement. A pair of ridiculously wealthy, middle-aged tech gurus looking to diversify their investment portfolio and branch out into real estate. “And you’ve secured a development partnership with ZF Construction?”

Working with the Barrett Black construction company sweetened the pot, no doubt. I told myself they were more interested in his name than in the idea of him legitimizing the deal. I didn’t have to worry about the article. Things were looking up—no more phone calls or texts from members of the press, nobody waiting for me outside my apartment building in hopes of getting a picture or a quote they could use.

“Yes, Mr. Black is eager to collaborate with us on developing the parcel once the sale has been secured.” We were looking to develop a piece of land on the north shore of Long Island, the idea being to build a townhome development along with an adjoining upscale shopping center and dining for the convenience of the residents.

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