Out of Hours...Office Affairs: Can't Get Enough / Wild Nights with her Wicked Boss / Bound to the Greek. Кейт Хьюит
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stop herself, hot and angry words were pouring out.
“Yes, really. Do you truly think I’m so pathetic that I’d get him to do my dirty work for me? I assure you, if I didn’t want to work with Jack Brook I’d let you know in no uncertain terms.”
Okay, that was a lie, because she’d spent the whole night trying to come up with subtle, nonaggressive ways of suggesting Jack be reassigned. But Morgan didn’t seem to understand that she’d spoken out of anger—his eyebrows were rising up, his expression one of pure shock. She tried to remember if she’d ever come close to speaking to him like this before.
No, probably not. Mostly she concentrated on smiling and sounding competent and on top of things when she met with him. Mostly she’d been way too aware of his power and her own desire to win his approval.
But today she was too annoyed to remember any of that. Today she was outraged that not only had Jack left her dangling all night, he’d also pipped her at the post on the work front, too. To top things off, this balding little man in front of her thought she was so wimpy that she’d use someone else as her front man.
“You know, I was prepared to wear all this rubbish about placating Mr. Hillcrest, but I’m beginning to wonder if I wouldn’t be better off stepping aside and letting you simply replace me with someone better qualified,” she heard herself saying silkily.
Good grief. Give a girl a little rush of power to the head, and suddenly she was the Genghis Khan of office politics!
Morgan had gone pale, but she bit down on the apology that sprang to her lips the moment she uttered her challenge. Instinctively, she understood that much hung in the balance right now.
He needs me, she reminded herself. It’s my project, and he needs me, and he should remember that.
Except this wasn’t her style at all. She was a worker, a quiet achiever. A nonconfronter. And she was going to lose her job. She was going to be escorted from the building by mustached security guards, and she was never going to get another job in publishing. She’d get kicked out of her apartment, and her car would be repossessed, and before she knew it she’d be coming up with catchy names for bad adult movies for a living, titles such as Ordinary Peepholes and Free Willy. Although, technically, that was no different from the original even if it had a new interpretation. Maybe she’d be no good at this new career, either. Ah—Three Willy! Maybe she’d survive, then…
To her surprise, Beck suddenly laughed, pushing himself back from his desk and loosening his tie a little.
“Okay, Claire. Point taken. I apologize.”
Her vision of her career in pornography receded and she hoped she wasn’t looking as surprised as she felt. He was apologizing. Her boss was apologizing. She’d answered back and threatened him and he hadn’t had her escorted from the building. A slow feeling of elation bubbled into her blood. She felt…strong. Powerful. Valued.
All these years she’d been toeing the line and working hard and waiting to be acknowledged—and all it took was a bit of mouthing off to get some respect.
“Look, it’s a crappy situation we’ve put you in. I acknowledge that. But if you can swallow your pride for just a few months, I assure you we’ll get Jack off your back as soon as we can. And your…flexibility won’t be forgotten.”
A little drunk with her newly discovered power, she toyed with the idea of making another startling, bold statement. Something such as “I hate that tie,” or perhaps, “For God’s sake, do something about what’s left of your hair,” while she was on a roll, but she was wise enough to know when to quit.
“I’m not happy,” was what she actually said. “But I’ll do it, because I’ve put too much into Welcome Home to walk away.”
Her boss nodded.
“Understood. The board knows that magazine is all yours, Claire, don’t ever underestimate that. We consider you one of our most talented executives.”
She managed to contain the grin that was threatening to stretch her mouth wide. Respect and praise, all because she’d lost her temper.
“I trust I can leave it with you to sort things out with Jack?” her boss was saying, shuffling papers around on his desk.
She recognized the meeting was over and she stood quickly.
“I’ll take care of it,” she assured him.
Once out of Beck’s hallowed office, her focus swung around to consider Jack and his sneakery. It was a testament to how angry she was that she didn’t even think twice about getting in the elevator and taking it down to Jack’s level. She was concentrating instead on what she was going to say to him. He’d gone behind her back and tried to undermine her on her own project. She conveniently swept to one side the thought that she had been about to do the same to him. And she couldn’t even bear to think that while she’d been sitting home all night agonizing over why he hadn’t called, he’d been planning to approach Beck and get out of working with her.
She steamed out of the elevator and surveyed the open-plan office space confronting her, quickly spotting Jack’s assistant at a desk in the corner. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the fact that Jack enjoyed a corner office. One more reason to find him incredibly annoying.
Linda looked up with a smile when Claire stopped at her desk.
“I need to see Jack,” she said baldly.
Linda’s smile faded as she registered Claire’s mood, and Claire immediately felt like a jerk.
Perhaps she was taking this pushy thing a little too far….
“I mean—how are you?” she tried again, summoning a smile of her own.
“Fine. Jack’s not in right now,” Linda volunteered.
She shifted her gaze to the closed door over Linda’s shoulder.
“Is that a he’s-in-but-doesn’t-want-to-be-disturbed not in, or a real not in?” she asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
“He’s in a meeting down in Sports,” Linda expanded.
“Right.” Claire stood for a moment, tapping her toe as she considered her options. She could leave a message for him, go back down to her office, get stuck into some work.
She shook her head. She could just imagine him screwing up any message she left him and tossing it in the bin as he headed out to an executive racquetball game.
“I’ll wait,” she announced suddenly. Then she pointed to Jack’s office door. “In there.”
Linda opened her mouth to protest, but Claire sailed past and into Jack’s inner sanctum. She did a quick survey of the room, aware that Linda had followed her and was standing behind her.
“Can I get you a coffee while you wait?” Linda asked politely, nothing in her tone giving away her true feelings.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said.
Linda gave a small nod and exited, closing the door behind her.
So she can warn him without me overhearing, Claire guessed. Well, tough. He’d have to come back here some time.
She glanced at the two seating options—a hard-looking chair at the front of Jack’s desk, or a squishy-looking sofa in the corner. She opted for the squishy sofa, throwing herself into it impatiently. It embraced her like an overly affectionate uncle, its cushions giving way alarmingly so that her butt sank low enough to lift her feet off the carpet.
Only Jack Brook could have a bucket-seat couch, she thought, struggling to lever herself up and out of its tenacious hold. She’d worked herself into a sweat and only managed to wriggle her hips forward, finally getting her high heels on the ground, when the door swung open and Jack entered. His blue gaze swung around like a spotlight and she felt the completeness of his scrutiny,