Page 11 of Knocked Up by my Rival

I shut the door and collapsed on my couch again, watching the rest of the game before it was time for bed. Tomorrow was going to be a big day in the office—I was wrapping up one campaign and diving headfirst into the next without taking a breath.

When the day was over and I’d taken care of all my business, I ordered up a couple of beers and bags of chips, put a game on the screen in my office for background noise, and made sure the extra workstation was ready. The bar was stocked with whatever else this guy might need. I would make a hell of an impression on him. The quicker I could get him to back off, scare him into submission, the better. It was best this guy knew what he was up against, and I had a theory—intimidate him from the start.

I waited. He was late. I checked the time twice.

Half an hour.

I was just about to call and find out what the fuck was going on when my secretary let me know my five o’clock had arrived. More like five thirty, but whatever. I was going to keep it short and sweet, anyway.

The door opened.

“Hey, man—”

“I’m sorry I’m late, traffic was a bitch getting here—”

It wasn’t a man walking into my office. It was a woman.

And it wasn’t just any woman, either.

“Mackenzie?” I asked, confused.

“Oh. Troy.” She looked around. “I… what are you doing here?”

“What amIdoing here?” I asked. “Are you here to see me?” How had she found me?

“I’m here to see Mr. Larson.”

Fuck she looked just as hot as when I’d met her. Short blonde hair, cut in a pixie style, a slim build, and elegant as fuck. Square jaw, fuckable mouth, and eyes that were perpetually filled with mischief or laughter. Or both.

“I’m Troy Larson,” I said. “And I’m about to go into a meeting with…” My voice trailed off. She was from Griffin, too. “Mack?”

“Yeah,” she said. “My friends call me Mack.”

I shook my head. “What the fuck?”

“I’m not too keen to see you, either,” she said tightly. “I guess we’re working together on this thing?”

“You’re Mack Frye? The Happy Meal?”

“Excuse me?” she asked.

I shook my head again. This had to be some practical joke, right? This had to be…

“You left,” I said.

“I didn’t realize you wanted breakfast in bed,” she answered tightly.

“You could have at least given me your number.”

“Would you have called?” she challenged.

Damn it. “Would you have wanted me to?”

“You’re fucking sensitive for the owner of a company. Usually it’s the women who want the one-night stand to become more.”

“I don’t want it to become more,” I said. I was getting angrier and angrier.

“Then what’s the issue?”

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