Page 54 of Teasing Her Grumpy Boss

She’d started this cool and she’d end this cool. Just like him. Obviously, as far as he was concerned, it was over. He was looking for a new manager. The bar was being sold. Her days were numbered. He must have caught up on all the sleep he needed. She’d even started to think he might actually have feelings. But, no, he really was cold and heartless. The suit said it all. He wanted rid of her? Not nearly as much as she now wanted rid of him and she’d get in first even if it killed her. She’d do it in super-cool blasé style, not showing even a millimetre of the aching wound stretching deep inside.

What upset her most was his high-handed dealing with the situation. Going completely and utterly behind her back to set everything up. Would he then present it as afait accompli?Oh, by the way, Lucy, your time’s up.

How did he expect her to react? Was that part of the game? Well, she wouldn’t react. She’d breeze off before he had the chance to play his mean hand. She’d worked so hard on the report and had been dreaming up all kinds of fun things for the club to branch into. Ways of drawing in the right crowds—keeping the vibe cool but a place for good times. As if Lara or the new owner would even be interested? Man, why had she ever imagined they would? She had nothing much to offer them—or Daniel. Nothing that he needed. She had to accept it, deal with it and move on.

She stared at her laptop and blinked back tears. Lucy didn’t cry. Ever.

She managed a frigid goodbye when Peter and his agent called out they were leaving and realised she’d need to move fast. Peter would be in contact with Daniel so he’d know she was there and that she knew about the sale. She needed to compose herself before seeing him again.

As for staying and fighting for it? No chance. She’d thought she could put in a mark for the job at the club but he wasn’t going to let her. And she’d never grovel. He didn’t know she knew about the search for a new manager. She’d keep that one up her sleeve for the right moment. It was time to go home and sort her stuff out. She could be out of there in half an hour if necessary. Fifteen minutes even.

She paused, reconsidering. Working it out. She didn’t want to look as if she’d left in a mad fit of pique—there was dignity to consider. Her cool, “I don’t give a damn” response. She needed an excuse.

She mentally flipped open a map of New Zealand. Threw an imaginary knife at it. Daniel’s image popped into her head right then and the knife landed in his heart. She screwed up her eyes and abandoned the decision for now. Anywhere would be okay so long as it wasn’t here. Better weather—that was it. And she could always fall back on her age-old excuse for up and leaving—boredom. That would get him. Fake reasoning in place, she shut up the club with time enough to get back and pack before having to return for opening.

And there was no way she was sleeping with him again.

To her extreme annoyance he was home when she got there. ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’

He looked up from where he was sprawled on the sofa reading one of her magazines. ‘Took the afternoon off.’

Dumbfounded she stared at him and then wrenched away, not wanting to be taken in by those golden eyes that seemed to promise the earth. She knew they told other tales behind the light. She tried to keep her movements slow and as natural as possible to hide the tense twitching inside.

‘Did you go for your swim?’

She jerked her head in negation. ‘Just a walk.’

If he’d taken the afternoon off he might not have seen or spoken to Peter. She’d bluff it.

‘What time are you due at the club?’

‘Not for another couple of hours.’

His eyes lit up. ‘Fancy a rest between now and then?’

Here he was going behind her back to oust her from her job, going to sell the club and not mentioning a thing about it, and still he wanted to sleep with her? When was he planning on telling her? Once he’d had his way another couple of times? Her anger grew to volcanic proportions. The awful thing was, despite the rage she felt there was a part of her that still wanted him. Her weakness made her even angrier. But she reined it in, refusing to blow her stack—that would reveal too much of how she really cared.

‘Actually, I need to organise a few things.’

‘Oh?’ He rose from the sofa and looked at her closely. ‘You okay?’

‘Mmm.’ Not meeting those penetrative eyes, she attempted a casual stroll to her room, keeping her shaking hands in her jeans pockets. She got to her room and pulled her pack from the wardrobe.

‘Going somewhere?’ He’d silently followed her and now leant against the doorjamb.

‘Actually, yeah. I’m thinking it’s time to move on.’

‘Really.’

‘Mmm hmm.’ She didn’t look at him, kept her mouth firmly closed as she focused on unzipping the bag she’d tossed up onto the bed.

‘When do you leave?’

‘I’m thinking after the shift tonight.’

‘Just like that? No notice?’

She sucked in a quick painful breath. ‘Well, it is nearly the end of the three-week trial.’

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