by Kara Lennox
“HE DIDN’T MEAN IT,” Carol said. “It’s just that male ego thing.”
Jane studied her computer screen, refusing to even look up. “That’s no excuse. His attack was completely unjustified. When I first took this job, you said he was fair.”
“He is…most of the time. You’re not going to quit, are you?”
“And do what? I have mouths to feed. Is that all Max is worried about? Making sure I don’t quit?”
Carol came all the way into Jane’s office and settled in the ugly flowered chair. “You know why this is happening, don’t you?”
“Yeah, because Max is a jerk.”
“The tension between you two has been building since the day you arrived. I can feel it in the air every time you’re in the same room. Something had to give. Either you were going to have a big fight or you were going to wind up in bed.”
That made Jane look up. Was she really that transparent? “You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not,” Carol said with utter certainty. “Personally, if it was me, I’d stop fighting and go with plan B. The constant tension is going to make it hard for you to work together.”
“We can’t,” Jane almost wailed, realizing too late she’d just admitted to Carol that she was right. “He’s my boss, and it’s unethical.”
“Oh, please. People who work together do it all the time. If we worked in a big corporation where there was a policy against it, that would be one thing. But we’re just a little company.”
Jane shook her head. “Workplace romances are a bad idea. Sure, it’s fine at first, but what about when things don’t work out? Then people quit or get fired, which can lead to jealousies, charges of harassment…” She had no firsthand experience about this, but she’d heard stories of what went on at Scott’s office.
Carol rolled her eyes. “Can you see anyone around here who would sue anybody else? And who would be jealous? Not me. I don’t need a man in my life.”
“Exactly! Neither do I. What I do need is this job. I love this job, even if my boss does behave like a jerk. I’m not going to mess things up because of a few hormones.”
“Well, I think you’re crazy, throwing away a fine man like Max Remington. How many women would give up their hair extensions to hook up with him?”
Jane saved her file and turned away from her computer. It wasn’t as if she was actually getting any work done. “Plenty do go out with him. Have you ever seen his little black book? He left it open on his desk once, and I couldn’t help but see it. He actually puts stars by their names.”
“Was your name in there?”
“I don’t know.” He’d walked in before she could flip to the S’s.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Jane’s heart did a little dance. She wasn’t ready to face him yet. She didn’t have her temper completely under control, and she didn’t trust herself to behave rationally.
“Come in,” Carol sang out, as if she had the perfect right to. “I was just leaving.” She scurried out behind Max, giving Jane a mischievous wink over her shoulder just before disappearing.
The look on Max’s face nearly did her in. He was actually nervous about facing her.
“If you’re here to lecture me,” she began, going on the offensive, but he cut her off.
“No more lectures.” That was when he produced the flowers, which he’d been holding behind the door. Roses. Red roses. A dozen of them.
No one had brought her flowers since…well, since the last time Scott had tried to win her back after she filed for divorce. She’d thrown them in the trash.
They’re just flowers. But she knew these wouldn’t end up in any Dumpster.
“I was totally out of line,” he said, laying the flowers on her desk. The heady scent of roses filled her nose and softened her brain. “You were right. It was my ego. From the start, this agency has been my baby. At my old job, I never got credit for my ideas ’cause I was just part of a big team. This time around, I didn’t want to share credit for any success.
“But that’s just stupid. A company is only as good as the people working there. You’re my greatest asset, a talented artist with marketing instinct and people skills. Thank you for saving the Coastal Bank account.”
“I…um, you’re welcome.” Jane couldn’t seem to come up with anything more intelligent to say. She hadn’t been expecting an apology, much less for Max to admit he’d been wrong. Scott’s apologies had always been something like, “I’m sorry you’re upset,” as if he’d had nothing to do with it.
“I would give you a raise,” Max said, “but I can’t.”
“I don’t need a raise,” she lied. They stared at each other for several long seconds. Finally Jane couldn’t stand the silence—she had to fill it. “The roses need water. I don’t have a vase.”
She pushed up from her desk and walked around it, dangerously close to Max.
He picked up the flowers again and extended them to her. “I didn’t know what kind of flowers you like, but the florist said roses were pretty safe.”
She paused and smiled. “No sane woman dislikes roses.” She took the flowers, immediately surrounded again by their heady scent. She closed her eyes so she could isolate the sensation and experience it fully.
“Jane?”
Her eyes flew open and she smiled. “Sorry, I was on a little mental vacation. Where can I find a vase?”
“You’re asking a guy, remember. Try the kitchen, maybe.”
Jane hurried out of her office before she did something crazy, like touch Max. Like hug him for taking the time and care to make this gesture, to make her feel valued.
Yes, that was what Max did that no one else ever had. He made her feel valued not for her looks, but her abilities.
Max followed her into the break room, and they both started opening cabinet doors, searching for a proper container for the flowers. Unfortunately, they came up empty.
“I have an idea.” Max exited the kitchen, and Jane followed, curious. He went to one of the unoccupied offices, which were still unfinished. “Just as I thought.” The workmen had left an empty bucket, which had once been filled with paint.
“Why, what a lovely vase.”
“Hey, do you want your roses to wither?”
“I suppose I shouldn’t complain. You did buy the flowers, after all.”
They rinsed out the bucket and filled it at the sink in the break room. Then Max set it on a table, and Jane unwrapped the flowers and put them in the water, rearranging them until she was satisfied.
She admired the effect. “Hmm. Kind of kitschy. Maybe we’ve started a new decorating trend. I can see fashionable matrons all over the country putting spattered paint buckets filled with roses in their living rooms.”
She looked up to see if her lame joke had scored with Max, but he wasn’t smiling. He was looking at her with such naked longing on his face that her knees turned soft and she went light-headed.
“Your smile is so pretty.” His voice was ragged. “Not even a dozen roses outshine you.”
The compliment was so simple and heartfelt that it brought tears to Jane’s eyes. “Th-thank you.”
“I want to touch you. But you’re so perfect I’m afraid to.”
“Max…you really better stop there.” Although she didn’t want him to. She wanted him to push those flowers out of the way and come across the table at her. She wanted him to push her against the wall and kiss her until she ran out of breath. She wanted to feel his body pressed up against hers, all that hard masculinity…
“I can’t think about anything else. Are you saying you don’t feel the same way?”
She felt exactly the same way. She didn’t go five minutes without thinking about him. Even when she was angry with him, sensual images of him, of them together, plagued her.
Could she lie? Could she look him in the eye and say she didn’t want him? If she could, it would make all of their lives simpler. She did not need another man in her life, and neither did Kaylee, not unle
ss that man would stick around forever.
Yes, closing the door firmly on any type of personal relationship was the sane, wise thing for her to do. Max would totally respect her decision. She knew that about him.
She looked him in the eye, steadily, and stiffened her spine, rehearsing exactly what she would say. She opened her mouth, intending to be firm but kind. But what she said was, “I want you worse than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my whole life.”
Chapter Nine
Max knew what he did in the next five seconds would have a profound impact on his life. He might cause Jane to quit. He might open himself up for a sexual harassment lawsuit. Or he might be involving himself with a woman on the rebound from a bad marriage—never a good idea.
At the moment, though, he didn’t care about any of that stuff. He just wanted Jane in his arms. And she wanted the same thing.
Her reaction surprised him. He’d been counting on her to be the voice of sanity. But sanity was noticeably absent from the room.
Just one kiss. That was all he wanted. That was what he told himself, anyway.
The air between them crackled with electricity and time slowed to a crawl. Max deliberately stepped around the table, and in two strides he was there. He grasped her delicate shoulders and backed her up against the wall. She stared up at him with huge eyes, her moist lips parted slightly, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.
“Last chance to say no.”
She remained silent, so he leaned in and captured those enticing, full lips with his—and was immediately in a different world. The room around them fell away. Time and space were nonexistent. There was only Jane, the feel of her, the scent of her, the wanting that welled up in her as palpable to him as his own desire.
Her response was quick and intense. She kissed him like she wanted to inhale him, snaking her arms around his neck, her fingers grabbing handfuls of his hair—
“Hello, where is everybody?”
Max and Jane sprang apart, instantly putting six feet between them, but it was too little too late. Carol was halfway into the break room already.
She skidded to a stop. “Oh. Ohh.”
Max wanted to object to her reaction, to stop the thoughts running through Carol’s head, but what could he say? Denials were useless.
“What is it, Carol?”
“Those real-estate magazines are here. Where do you want them?”
“In, um, in the storeroom.” His brain was having a hard time coming back to life.
“Okay.”
Carol backed out of the room with a wink.
“Oops.” Jane sank into the nearest chair. “That was less than discreet of us.”
Max had no idea what to say. He’d never jumped an employee before. “I, um, better check on those magazines.”
“I didn’t know we were printing any real-estate magazines.”
“It was a job we did before I hired you. In fact, working with the freelancer in Dallas was such a bad experience, it convinced me to hire someone on staff.”
Max felt some measure of relief that he was still capable of a normal conversation—and that Jane didn’t seem to be mad at him, though what he’d done was inexcusable. Yes, she’d been a willing participant, but he’d started it. He’d taken advantage of her.
“Let’s go have a look at the magazines.”
“Um, Max…” She gestured for him to wipe his mouth. “You have my lipstick all over your face.”
He smiled at her. “You have it all over yours, too.”
As soon as they’d repaired the damage with another of Jane’s ever-handy wipes they went to the storeroom, where a deliveryman with a dolly stacked up five boxes.
“How many boxes are there?” Max asked.
“That’s all,” the man said with a shrug.
“What? That can’t be right. You can’t fit ten thousand magazines into five boxes.”
The man shrugged. “That’s all I have.”
Maybe the rest were coming later, Max reasoned. They still had a few days before their deadline. But he got an uneasy feeling in his gut.
“Ten thousand?” Jane said. “That’s a lot of magazines.”
“It’s my biggest job so far. Not that I’m making a whole lot of profit. I bid the job low because I really wanted the account. But if the client is pleased, we might be doing this monthly, so there’s potential for the future.”
He grabbed a box cutter and sliced open one of the cartons. When he saw what was inside, he nearly passed out.
The magazines were pink. Everything had an unhealthy pink tinge—the photos, the background, the type.
Jane gasped. “Are they supposed to look like that?”
“Hell, no!”
“Maybe it’s just the one carton.”
Max sliced open another carton, and then a third, but they all looked the same. Pink.
“Good gravy,” Carol said under her breath.
This was bad. This was worse than bad, this was an unmitigated disaster.
“We don’t have to pay for these, do we?” Carol asked.
“We’ve already paid half up front.” He strode to his office, intending to get the artist on the phone and find out what had happened. These magazines didn’t look anything like the proof he had approved. Obviously the artist hadn’t gone to the printers to approve the printed proof, as he’d said he would.
The artist’s phone rang and rang. No answer.
“Damn it!”
Jane stood at the door. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know. The client is expecting ten thousand four-color magazines in five days. Five hundred pink magazines isn’t going to make a favorable impression.”
“You can’t call the printer and insist they do these over? And print the correct number?”
The printer. Of course. What kind of idiots printed five hundred pink magazines and thought that was just fine?
Max had never worked with this particular printer; they were some outfit the artist had claimed was great.
Perfect Printing. Max checked the return address label. It was a P.O. box. He looked them up on the Internet and couldn’t find them. He called Dallas information. No phone listing.
What was going on here?
The situation disintegrated from there. By the end of the day, Max was forced to conclude that he’d been bamboozled. The artist had screwed up the job so badly that he’d gone into hiding. The printer was probably some friend or relative with a printing press in his garage who had no clue what he was doing. When they’d realized the job was far beyond their capabilities, they’d split the money and run.
Max felt sick. Not only had he wasted money he couldn’t afford to lose, his reputation would be in shreds once the client learned what had happened.
Was this it, then? Would he have to close the agency in disgrace and crawl home, begging for his old job back? He could just imagine what his older brother, Eddie, would have to say about that.
Jane felt terrible about what was happening. She’d tried to be as supportive as possible, calling people and chasing down information when she could, or sitting in her office working on the computer when she could do nothing else.
Now, at the end of the day, the news wasn’t good. It seemed Max had no way out of this dilemma.
“Do you have the original art?” Jane asked. She stood at Max’s office door, wanting to do something, anything, to take that look of utter defeat off Max’s face.
“I have the page proofs on my computer…somewhere.”
“We could find another printer.”
“Finding a printer who can do a job this size in under five days…it’s impossible. Even if we found someone, the expedite fees would be staggering.”
“Wouldn’t losing some money on the job be better than losing the client?”
“Sure. But the brutal truth is, I don’t have the money.”
“How much do you think it would take?”
He threw out a figure that made Jane nauseous. It riv
aled her annual salary.
“Maybe we could get the money somehow. Or get a loan.”
“I’ve already reached my credit limit.”
Jane refused to be defeated. “You find the printer. I’ll try to find the money.”
“Jane, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but where would you find the money? Last I heard, you didn’t have enough to fill your gas tank.”
True enough. But that was her money. She knew lots of rich people. “Let me try.”
“I would need an answer quickly. Any printer who agreed to the job would give me a narrow window, and I would have to commit. I’m not going to commit when I know I can’t pay.”
“I understand.” She looked at her watch. It was after five. She would be late picking up Kaylee, but Mrs. Billingsly, the woman who ran the after-school program, was far more lenient than the school about tardiness, so she wasn’t too worried. “I’ll have an answer by tomorrow morning.”
Finally he smiled. “Thanks, Jane. You don’t have to take this on as your problem, you know. I don’t pay you enough for that.”
“But it is my problem. If your agency goes under, I’m out of a job.”
“The agency won’t go under.” But he didn’t sound completely convinced of that himself. “Listen, Jane, about what happened…” He nodded in the general direction of the kitchen, and she nodded back. “I was out of line. Way out. There’s no excuse for it.”
Jane swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as old parchment. She’d been trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to put it out of her mind, to write it off as one insane moment to be forever cherished but never repeated.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“It won’t happen again.”
Was she supposed to be relieved? Because all she felt was supreme disappointment. “Are you sure about that?”
“No.”
She applauded his honesty, at least. Her heart lifted. She felt clueless in this situation, but apparently so did he. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She made a quick escape before she said or did anything foolish. More foolish.
Tonight, she would think hard about what to do with Maxwell Remington. After she swallowed her pride and called her parents to beg for a loan.