Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

“Now do you want something stronger than coffee?” I ask.

She finishes whatever she’s writing before looking up, giving me a look that aches with those robin egg-blue eyes. “I should’ve let you get me a drink earlier. It’s almost time to drive you home.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ll be here for a couple more hours. I have a few people I need to talk to before we leave.” I lean in and whisper, “These conferences are really about closing deals. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

She nods. “Good luck. You and your silver tongue? I’m sure it’ll take you thirty minutes, tops. No one can say no, once you get going.”

She catches herself and twists her face away shyly.

I chuckle at the irony. She’s awfully good at rejecting me, and it’s been going on a hell of a lot longer than thirty minutes.

“Mr. Brandt?” she asks, flicking back a loose lock of that walnut-brown hair.

“Yes?”

“I could go for a pop. Dr. Pepper,” she says.

“Will do.” I stand and push the chair out, ready to buy drinks but decide to push my luck. I give her my best grin.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head.

She tilts hers. “Is that your sales face or something?”

“That depends. Is it working?” I growl back.

“Hmm. That depends. What are you trying to sell me?”

“You know how you said no one could deny me?”

“That’s where this is going? Am I going to have to talk to Susan?” She narrows her eyes.

“Give me some credit, woman.” I scowl at her. “I was just about to ask you to type up the notes and send them to everyone.”

Relieved, she flicks her eyes up, considering. “How much does an EA make?”

“It depends on their experience. The last one made close to six figures,” I say cautiously.

What gives? She turned the job down earlier. Does she want it now?

“Well...this driver makes ninety thousand annually, which is more than generous. Still, this isn’t my usual workload, whatever that job description says. Tell you what. I’ll type the notes and send the email for a one-time fee of three hundred dollars, flat.”

“Three hundred? You either type really slow or—”

Her grin reveals deep dimples that hook me in the chest. “Consider it a convenience fee since I’m not an EA.”

Damn her. I should put her on the sales team, seeing how she negotiates.

I hold up a hand and snap my fingers.

“Done.”

After everything I’ve already put her through, I’m not going to squabble over three hundred bucks.

She turns the notes back to the first page and takes out her phone.

“What are you doing?”

She shrugs, her lashes fluttering softly. “You said you were going to close some deals and we’d be here for a while. I might as well make good use of the time.”

“You’re not writing the whole thing on a phone. The computers in the hotel business center make it easier and more accurate.”

“The business center costs like twenty dollars. That’s stupid. I already pay for my phone. I’m savvy, not greedy, and I’m not charging up the company card for it either.”

I force down a smile.

If she doesn’t have a company card on her she’ll use, I do. I won’t make her pay for the business center out of her own pocket. Still, how can I resist goading her?

“You’d still have a net profit of two hundred and eighty dollars,” I point out.

She looks stricken. “Wow, really? I took a few business classes too. This way I have a net profit of three hundred dollars.”

My brows arch up. I didn’t know she had any college.

“Use your company card,” I order.

Halle looks at me like I’m a mammoth idiot. “Why would I waste the company’s money if I’m not willing to waste my own?”

I’m not sure I’ve ever had an employee this loyal. I open my wallet and hand her a personal credit card. “Here. It’s mine. You’re only wasting my money, and believe me, I’ve got twenty bucks to spare.”

She glares.

Not the reaction I expected.

Fuck, is there any pleasing this girl?

“You’re such a snob sometimes,” she spits.

It’s hopeless. I can’t hold the laughter anymore. “What? Because I offered to pay for you to use a real computer to type notes I’ll use?”

“No. Because who pays twenty freaking dollars to use a computer when you already pay for like a thousand laptops?”

“Billionaires. It’s part of the job description. We have more than we can use, so we have to spend it to keep the economy going,” I quip. “Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t bring any of those laptops with.”

“Snob,” she says with a groan.

“Swipe your fingers to death then. You can keep the card in case you change your mind when your hands cramp up and you’re trying not to drop the damn phone reading off that notepad,” I grind out.