High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way: High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way

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“Nice,” Annie told her. “You’re kidding, right?”

Jenny grinned. “You’re so serious about everything. Yes, I’m kidding. There’s mostly Christmas music loaded.” She looked around at the dying party. “How are you going to get this started?”

Annie took another sip of wine. “I plan to sacrifice myself.”

Kami winced. “Tim doesn’t deserve you looking out for him the way you do.”

“Tell me about it.”

Annie nodded and Jenny flipped the switch. An electronic hum filled the room. Everyone turned to look. Annie waved weakly, then scrolled through the songs until she found “Jingle Bell Rock.” Maybe that would put people in the holiday spirit.

The music came on. Kami turned it up, then mouthed, “Good luck.”

Annie picked up the microphone and began to sing.

She had a modest voice, at best. Soft, without a lot of range. But someone had to save the party and everyone else was too afraid. So she did her best and ignored the waver in her voice and the heat burning her cheeks.

At the chorus, Jenny and Kami joined in. Then a couple of people in the crowd sang along. A few more sang the second chorus and by the third time around, most of the people in the room were nodding along.

A couple of women came up and said they wanted to sing. By the time they were done, there was a line of people waiting. She gratefully handed off the microphone.

She grabbed her wine and finished it in a single gulp. She was still shaking. The good news was people were actually talking to each other and she saw a couple filling plates with food.

Duncan joined her. “You were singing.”

“I know.”

His expression was hard to read. “Why?”

“Was it that bad?”

“No, but you were uncomfortable.”

“The party was dying. Something had to be done.”

Duncan looked around at his employees, then back at her. “This wasn’t your responsibility.”

“People should have a good time at an office party. Isn’t that the point of giving it? So they can hang out together, talk and learn about each other in a way that isn’t about work?”

He stared at her blankly.

She pointed at the people in the room. “Go talk to them. Ask questions about their lives. Pretend interest.”

“Then what?”

“Smile. It will confuse them.”

He looked at her quizzically, then did as she said. She watched him approach a group of guys who were drinking beer and tugging at their ties.

The employees weren’t the only ones who were confused, she thought, staring at Duncan. She was, as well. She was with him for a reason that had nothing to do with caring or being involved. He’d basically blackmailed her into pretend dating him so he could fool the world into thinking he was a nice guy. So why did she want to be next to him now, helping him? Why did the sight of his smile make her want to smile in return?

Complications she couldn’t afford, she reminded herself. She wanted forever and Duncan wanted to be left alone. She was staff, he was the boss. There were a thousand reasons why nothing would ever work out between them.

And not one of them could stop her from wishing for the very thing she could never have.

Chapter Six

Duncan kept his hand firmly around Annie’s elbow as he guided her toward his car in the parking lot. One of the first rules of boxing was not to fight mad. It gave your opponent an advantage. He’d learned the lesson also applied to all areas of life, so he wasn’t going to say anything until he was sure he was under control. A state hard to imagine as anger pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

He was beyond pissed. He could feel the emotions boiling up inside him. The need to lash out, to yell—something he never did—nearly overwhelmed him.

“Just say it,” Annie said calmly, when they reached the car.

He pushed the button to unlock the doors, then opened hers. “I have nothing to say.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re practically frothing at the mouth. You need to just say it.”

“I’m fine,” he growled, waiting until she got into the car, then closing her door.

He walked around and got in on the driver’s side. She put her hand on his arm.

“Duncan, you’ll feel better.”

He angled toward her, staring into her wide blue eyes, nearly vibrating with rage. “You had no right.”

“So you are mad.”

“What the hell were you thinking.”

She sighed. “So much for the warm fuzzies.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“Before, at the party, when I brought in the karaoke machine and humiliated myself by singing and saved the day, there were warm fuzzies. But now, all because I make a simple little suggestion, you’re upset.”

“A simple suggestion? Is that what you call it? You have no right. This isn’t your business. Our bargain in no way gives you any kind of authority over me or my decisions. You don’t know what you’re talking about and because of that, I have to deal with your mess.”

She nodded slowly. “Feel better?”

“I’m not a child to be placated.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

She wasn’t afraid of him. In the back of his mind, he appreciated that she was sitting calmly while he ranted. Most people couldn’t do that. They were too aware of his size, his background, his ability to physically rip them in two if the mood struck.

She shifted toward him. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“You’re not the one who has to pay for it.”

“You’re paying for it already,” she said reasonably. “Parents have to miss work because their day care isn’t available. Or they can’t stay late because of the hours. It’s out of their control and that makes people worry. Worried people don’t do as good a job.”

“I’m not offering in-office day care. It’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“It’s expensive and unnecessary.”

“Do you know that for sure?” she asked.

“Do you know that it really helps?”

“No, but I’m willing to find out if it does. Are you?”

“I don’t come into your classroom and tell you how to teach. I would appreciate it if you didn’t come into my business and tell me how to run it.” The anger bubbled again.

“I’m not doing that. I was talking to a group of your employees and they spoke pretty passionately about it. I said it was an interesting idea and something you’d look into.”

“You do not speak for me.”

“What was I supposed to do?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice. “As far as they’re all concerned, I’m your girlfriend. The entire point of this exercise is to make the world think you’re a nice guy. Nice guys listen to good ideas.”

He couldn’t take much more of this. “It’s not a good idea. I listen when the person talking has something worthwhile to say.”