Page 42 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

Because she wasn’t here to make nice, Esme barged into his office without knocking. And definitely succeeded in surprising him.

Miles held a painfully young intern in his arms, his reedy arms locked around a slender brunette in a neat blue suit. He released her abruptly at Esme’s intrusion, sending the wide-eyed woman stumbling back a step.

“You scum-sucking sleaze.” Esme could find no other words. She didn’t need to ask if the trembling brunette had been a willing partner just now. She recognized too much of herself in the twenty-something’s eager-to-succeed appearance and shell-shocked expression.

“Jealous, Esme?” Miles had the gall to look pleased with himself as he straightened his green tie and leaned a hip into his imposing cherry desk.

With an irreverence born of nerves and fury, Esme couldn’t help but think her desk was much nicer. And bigger.

Behind her she heard Miles’s latest harassment target scuttle out the room. Not exactly a show of solidarity, but Esme understood the woman’s need to escape. She’d been that woman for far too many years.

“Jealous— no. Sickened— definitely. I see you’ve dispensed with the five-year waiting period before you foist unwanted attentions on your employees. I really don’t think they’ll approve of cradle robbing or harassment at corporate headquarters.” She focused on staring him down, remembering the way Renzo had sent other men fleeing in the opposite direction the night they’d met at Club Paradise.

Unfortunately, the method didn’t have the same immediate results. Miles reached for his steaming coffee mug labeled Executive Director, seemingly unaffected by her threat.

“I don’t believe corporate will be too swayed by the opinions of trouble-making staffers who have been terminated.” He sipped as he prowled the room, circling her like a hungry vulture.

Refusing to be cowed, Esme simply revealed the message she’d come here to deliver.

“Maybe not. But once they have harassment complaints on file, I don’t think they’re going to keep buying the terminated employee thing every time a mauled woman shows up at their doorstep. You might consider that before you bother any more of your assistants.”

“Maybe you’re right. Lucky for me, it’s not harassment if I target women who no longer work for the museum.” Pausing by the door to his office, Miles closed it and flicked the lock into place.

A niggle of panic washed over her. She assured herself she could still get out however. The locked door merely meant other people couldn’t get in. All she needed to do was turn the knob and she could leave. Sleazebag Miles played these kinds of mind game scare tactics simply to intimidate. Besides, he had the morning meeting to conduct soon and a museum full of staff a shout away.

She tilted her chin, steeled herself for the confrontation she’d been itching to have ever since he’d fired her. “I would think very carefully about your next move if I were you. I am not the same woman who walked out of here quietly six weeks ago.”

He took a step closer, his footfall silenced by the thick Persian rug that covered his office floor. “Now that you mention it, you look a little different.” His eyes roamed her body with far too much familiarity, her silk blouse and khaki skirt suddenly feeling inadequate.

Did a woman have to dress in garbage bags to deter men like this? Anger fired through her, not just for herself, but for the woman who’d been cornered by him when she walked in here. Maybe if Esme had filed a formal complaint before now, Miles would have thought twice before trying his same bullshit with someone else.

She regretted not being stronger. But she was here to fix that now.

Miles still leered at her, oblivious to her dark thoughts. “In fact, you look much better these days. Does that mean you came back here with your own designs for seduction?”

The scent of his cologne was oppressive. She’d forever associate that heavy scent with the feeling of being trapped. Only now she realized she had never been restrained by him so much as by her own fears.

“Hardly. It means I managed to find the courage to follow my own dreams instead of sitting around here waiting for you to notice my potential as an art historian.” She didn’t need Miles Crandall’s endorsement to obtain another museum job. She had connections of her own— something that had given her an immediate strong client base for her work with Renzo.

Meeting him had lit a fire inside her in more ways than one. His vision and vitality had forced her to dream bigger, encouraged her to take chances she’d never imagined before.

“Then I suppose congratulations are in order. It seems I did you a favor by terminating you.” Miles offered her his hand, as if they could shake and all would be healed between them. “Shall we let bygones be bygones?”

Esme would rather touch an electric eel than the viper in a in front of her.

“Actually, no. Just because I’ve found some happiness for myself doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with railroading unsuspecting women who have the misfortune of working for you.” She brushed past him and headed toward the door, needing a breath of air that didn’t smell like him. She paused just in front of the door, hand already on the knob. “I’m going to file complaints with our corporate parent, our sponsors and every state agency I can think of to make sure your unprofessional behavior is well documented. I have the feeling you won’t be ruling the roost at the museum for much longer, Miles. Enjoy your while it lasts.”

Full of shaky adrenaline and pride, Esme flipped open the lock to let herself out. She never heard Miles approach until his hands braced the door shut, his arms bracketing either side of her head.

His voice hissed in her ear. “I definitely plan to enjoy it. Thanks for making it possible.”

Hands grabbed her, yanking her around and twisting her blouse in the process. Old Esme— that facet of herself who had been raised not to take chances and to hope no one disappointed you—hesitated for a split second.

Long enough for Miles to slobber his way closer… as if to kiss her?

New Esme didn’t think twice about kneeing him in the groin. Hard.

She packed every bit of frustration she’d ever had working with the harassing creep into that blow, rendering him doubled over and gasping for breath.

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