Fierce Love

by Danielle Stewart

  “That’s not true,” he argued as she leaned against her front door. “I just want to sleep with you more than I want to work with you. I have a rule not to do both. I haven’t been rooting for your failure, but I have been spending a lot of time thinking about what I’d do with you once you weren’t on my payroll.” He put one arm against her door and leaned in close to her.

  “I want to do that too,” she said with excited eyes. But the light faded from them quickly. “But I’m the opposite. I want the job more than that because I have to have it. But if I’m fired anyway,” she said in a husky whisper as she traced the buttons of his shirt.

  “I only have one more rule, and you’re breaking it,” he said, filling with misery. “You’re too drunk.”

  “So wait,” she said, scratching her head while she did the math. “So I have no job, and I don’t get to sleep with you?”

  “You have a job, and no I won’t sleep with you tonight. Not while you’re like this.” He gestured down at her current state. She could feel his eyes running over the lace of her shirt.

  “I’m not fired?” she asked, staring up at him hopefully.

  “You’re not.”

  “But you said you want to sleep with me more than you want to work with me. sAren’t you the guy who always gets what he wants? Shouldn’t you just fire me and play your odds that I’ll end up in your bed?”

  “I should,” he agreed, pressing his lips together. She searched his eyes for an answer but only found small flecks of dark green that she hadn’t had the pleasure of noticing before.

  “Then why haven’t you? If you were waiting for me to give you a reason, tonight must qualify.”

  “It does,” he replied, again pressing his lips shut after the short reply.

  “Then why?” she demanded. “Fire me. Sleep with me. Get what you want. Why not?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, shaking his head. “That plan sounds right to me too, but for some reason you seem compelled to try to keep this job, and I don’t want to be the one to take that from you.”

  “Then break the rule. Sleep with an employee. I’ll sober up eventually, and you’ll have your chance. You must break rules,” she slammed her hand to his chest. “A man like you must do it all the time.”

  “I break other people’s rules, not my own. If I made it, it’s there for a reason.”

  She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him, his lips instantly parting and his body banging up against hers, pressing her to the door. It was like a dam had broken free as his hands moved from the small of her back to a tight grip on her hip. Then suddenly he pulled away.

  “Too drunk,” he repeated, reminding himself as much as he was reminding her. “Not happening tonight.”

  “You’re not turning out to be anything like I thought you were,” she admitted, eyeing him skeptically. “You could have called the police once you knew where I was tonight. You didn’t have to come get me yourself. You could fire me. You could sleep with me even though I’m drunk. Why did you come?”

  “I haven’t hit anyone in a month or so; I was having withdrawal. I figured if I headed out there I’d probably be able to take a shot at someone.”

  “That was really scary,” she admitted. “Thank you for coming to get me.” She sniffled as she threw her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. If she could change her mailing address to this spot on his body, she’d move in and never leave.

  “No problem,” he said, the stiffness in his back loosening. When she felt his arms creep up slowly and wrap around her, the tears came faster. Maybe she wasn’t just crying about tonight. Maybe it was gratitude for the job. For the second chance. Maybe it was just exhaustion. No matter what the cause, the shelter of his arms was the solution.

  “Mathew’s got some stomach bug or something and claiming he can’t come to the office tomorrow morning. I need a second set of eyes on these OSHA reports. Be in at nine.” It felt strange for her boss to be instructing her by speaking gently into her hair. But she wouldn’t squander the opportunity.

  “I did the spreadsheets already,” she stuttered out. “I’ll get you the reports now and be there in the morning.” She pulled back from him, looking up into his face as she blinked away her tears. Without another word exchanged, she walked into the house, retrieved the reports, handed them to him, and watched him pull away into the night. What a strange and wonderfully awful night it had been.

  CHAPTER 12

  James watched the door, looking up at it for the hundredth time. If Libby didn’t show up this morning he’d be hard pressed to keep her on as an employee. He had every reason to fire her last night. She’d screwed up, been unavailable when he needed her. Shown incredibly poor judgment. But for some reason, completely out of character for him, he found it impossible to fire her. Plenty of people had stood before him and pleaded for their jobs over the years, but something about the desperation in her eyes made it impossible to do the one thing he’d been thinking about doing all week. She’d put the work in. The next thing to do was wait for her to screw up. Fire her. Sleep with her. So why didn’t he?

  The question seemed to answer itself as she pushed her way into this office. Just look at her. Her head hung low. No one was harder on Libby than Libby. She’d likely beat herself up enough last night.

  “Good morning,” she said, her eyes darting away and her words sounding like an apology.

  “Morning,” he said in a booming voice. He’d already made plans to not talk about last night. There was no point. It was done. The only thing that would come from it would be him having to admit a weakness for her. He’d have to provide a reason for why he’d given her a second chance.

  “I printed out the spreadsheet you asked for, Mr. West.” She sat down across from him and slid the papers in his direction.

  “James,” he said, glaring up at her with the tiniest of smiles. “I told you to call me James, Libby,”

  “Right,” she said, shaking her head and scolding herself as she pressed imaginary wrinkles out of her jacket. “I just want to say—” she started, but he waved her off.

  “Let’s just focus on work,” he instructed as he flipped through the documents she’d given him. Libby always obeyed. This week, working with her, watching her, he’d been turned on by the submission she showed in almost every scenario. But now, this morning for some reason, her quick conformity to his orders made him feel oddly protective of her.

  “Of course,” she said, crossing her legs. “I’m sorry.”

  “I think that’s your most commonly used phrase,” he said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing the way she slumped her shoulders. “You say I’m sorry the way some people say hello.”

  “I . . . um,” she sputtered out.

  “You have to tell me what’s going on here,” he said flatly, sucking in his lip as he looked her over again, analyzing her. “It’s driving me nuts trying to get you straight.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, turning red. “I’m not a complicated person. I’m about as dull as it gets.”

  “All week, you’ve busted your ass to do every task I’ve asked of you. You’ve walked around trying to look like you’re tough, a force to be reckoned with. But every time I really look at you, really pay attention, all you do is say yes to people. Even when it’s clear you want to say no.”

  “I’m employed here,” she said, pulling more documents out of her bag. “I’m supposed to say yes.”

  “You say yes when someone asks you to do things that have nothing to do with work. You throw yourself on grenades all day for people who couldn’t care less. You’re saying some of the tough things, the things that make you look the part but it’s fake.” He folded his arms and rested them on his desk, leaning in as though the proximity might help him understand her better. There had to be an answer. Nothing got under his skin more than someone he couldn’t figure out. It didn’t take years lying on some shrink’s couch to figure out why. His father had been the emotional Rubik’
s Cube James could never twist in the right combination.

  “I don’t know what you want from me here,” she said sheepishly, holding her hand up to her lips, her fingers like soldiers charged with keeping her words locked away.

  “But if you did, you’d give it to me. That’s the point. You’d tell me what I wanted to hear. You’d make sure I’d have what I needed even at your own expense. That’s ridiculous. I don’t understand it.”

  “How could you?” she asked with a bite in her voice that excited him. At least a little spark had been lit in her again. “How could you possibly understand me? We have absolutely nothing in common.”

  “I pride myself on understanding the inner workings of people. Even people different than me. I can normally sort someone out pretty quickly. But not you.”

  “That makes two of us.” She shrugged with a defeated smile that only made him want her more.

  “Are you happy?” he challenged.

  “Who cares?” she laughed as though he’d just asked if she believed in unicorns. “What does that matter?”

  “You don’t think being happy matters?” James himself had redefined happiness over the years. It wasn’t the traditional idea most people accepted but happiness for him meant success.

  “People depend on me. I will do whatever it takes to not let those people down. I will say yes a thousand times a day even if I don’t want to. You’re right; it’s not in my nature to be this bad-ass woman. Maybe I misled you at the beginning because I wanted to make sure I got the job.”

  “You didn’t mislead me,” he laughed, but in a gentle way. “I saw right through you.”

  “The only thing I can promise you is that I’ll work. I’ll get done whatever you need. I can’t try to explain to you why I am the way I am. I didn’t start this way.”

  “You don’t have to keep it up. Tell people to go fuck themselves. Tell them to take care of their own shit.” He thought for a second as he cautioned her. “Not me, of course. You still have to do what I say.”

  “Of course.” She laughed, and he felt relieved to finally see a flash of her smile again.

  He closed in on her and swept his thumb across her cheek then cupped her face, tipping her chin up. Watching her tongue glide across her nervous lips had him fully excited now. Blood rushed through his body and buzzed in his ears. Never had a woman wanted, no needed, to be kissed more than Libby in this moment. But he couldn’t kiss her. Not the way he kissed a woman after a holiday party or a night at a club. If he kissed her right now it would be with his whole heart. And he wouldn’t be able to stop at the kiss.

  An image of her naked body bouncing above him, her hands wildly caught up in her own hair as she screeched his name, flew through his mind. He would have her. He would bend her and squeeze her and lick her until she imploded in his arms. But he couldn’t do it the way he’d always done it, because Libby was like no one he’d ever met before. And that scared the shit out of him.

  “You deserve more than you’re taking for yourself. Demand more.”

  “You think I’m hard to figure out, take a look at yourself. I don’t get you. You’ve got everything at your fingertips. You’ve never wanted for anything in your life. Why do you care whether or not I have a job? Why do you care whether or not I’m standing on some corner downtown?” She gestured wildly as her voice rose, layered with accusation.

  “I’ve wanted for plenty in my life. Maybe not material things.” Shit. This was what he’d been avoiding. “You’re brilliant,” he admitted, deflecting the conversation from himself. “You don’t see it. But I do. When I see potential, I work to grow it. It’s good business for me.”

  “And the kiss,” she asked, clearing her throat. “You were pretty clear. You want to sleep with me. But you won’t while we work together. But you let me keep my job. How am I supposed to interpret that?”

  “You have your job today,” he said flatly. “My reason for that is mine.”

  She nodded with a small smile again. “But back to these reports, right?” she asked, blushing in that flushed way she did when he stared at her too long.

  “Yes,” he said, refocusing on the crushing problem that had him calling her last night in the first place. He became serious as he remembered how daunting this task would be. “Do you know what I’m trying to do here?”

  “You are trying to bring West Oil back to its glory,” she said confidently.

  “Good call, use a catch phrase of mine,” he smiled. “But what am I really trying to do? All these meetings you’ve been making for me, what are they about?”

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted, going one shade brighter. “I know you feel the company is dated, being passed by. You want to change things and make it more profitable. I’m no expert, but what you say seems to make sense.”

  “These meetings are all partnerships I’m creating with solutions companies that can come clean these messes up quickly. Dodgewood Solutions will focus on the EPA challenges we have. They’ve created a plan to get us compliant and save us millions in fines. I’m pushing them to have it done in two months, which is just about impossible but I wouldn’t tell them that.”

  “Why does it need to be done so quickly?” Libby asked, and the way she bit the back of her pen made his body pulse. He may have let her stay on in this job at the expense of sleeping with her, but it didn’t stop him from picturing her sweet mouth all over his body.

  “There is a new chemical compound being created and tested overseas right now. It will revolutionize the way the world uses fossil fuels. It will change everything. The rumor is Asher Barrington is nearly ready to bring it back to the States. I want West Oil on the front line. I want him to use our resources to launch the technology here. But with my company as it stands today, he’d laugh in my face. Rightfully so. We’re dinosaurs in this business. I’ll clean it up first then make sure he knows going with any company besides West Oil will be the biggest mistake of his life.”

  “What else do you need to do besides get compliant with the EPA problems?” she asked, looking genuinely interested.

  “These,” he said, gesturing down at the OSHA reports. “The average recordable rate for a company our size is about one and a half percent. You know what that is right?”

  “It’s a formula used to determine how many injuries, deaths, or illnesses the company has every year,” she said, nodding her head.

  “Yes. An oil company is expected to have more than average. It can be as high as three percent. In the last ten years we’ve averaged five percent. It’s completely unacceptable and between lawsuits and fines it’s cost us a fortune.”

  “Lawsuits,” she asked, a small lift in her shoulders. “Like for people who are injured or killed?”

  “Yes, we’ve paid out millions,” he said looking her over, trying to figure out why her face was fluttering. “Asher Barrington won’t touch this company with a recordable rate that high. I have to have a plan to bring it down and give assurances it won’t be a problem going forward.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “It’ll be a rollout of more effective training, better safety measures, and upgraded technology. I can’t keep having people die and getting maimed here if I want to get my way.”

  “That’s why you want to do that stuff? Just so you can get what you want? You don’t care about the people dying out on rigs and getting crushed by equipment, their whole lives being turned upside down?”

  “Libby,” he said leaning away from her, “these things need to be done. They will be done. I don’t need to lay out my motivation; I need to lay out my plan.”

  She nodded her head and silenced herself by snapping her lips shut for a second, composing herself and then speaking again. “Why didn’t your father just do these things? Didn’t he care?”

  “He cared,” James cut back, surprising even himself at the way he was defending his father. He realized quickly that he couldn’t answer her question. That was the whole point of his relationship wi
th his father. If he could understand why the man refused to change and evolve then there would be nothing left to argue about. “It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I don’t think I would,” she said, raising her brows and nibbling at her lip in frustration.

  “There’s a bigger problem though,” James said, flipping open a folder. “Asher and his partner, Brice, don’t miss a beat. His people are top notch. They’ll flush out any discrepancies, and I’ve found some I can’t account for.”

  “Like what?” she asked, leaning in over his desk, the collar of her shirt lowering enough to flash him her soft skin.

  He had to pull himself back to the paper in his hand. “The recordable forms for the last ten years aren’t complete. Those are the documents where we log the incidents and provide them to OSHA. There are things missing.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I wasn’t here at the company but I stayed in touch with people. I kept my ear to the ground. I know for a fact there were injuries and accidents, even some deaths, that aren’t reported here. That’s not possible.” He looked down at the papers again as though the missing reports would suddenly appear.

  “You . . .” she faltered, “you mean you think some things were covered up?” She looked quite green all of a sudden as she rubbed a shaking hand across her forehead.

  “I’m not saying that,” he cautioned with a raise of his hand. “That’s not an accusation I’m willing to make. But I do need to figure this out before I bring in an outside party to start dealing with the issue going forward. They’ll want to investigate past instances, and then it would be out of my hands. I can’t have that.”

  “I don’t know what you mean? It would be out of your hands? How could you control it even if you found it yourself?” He watched her swallow hard, leaning in even farther over the documents.