“I don’t care who suggested it. Do you have any idea who this is?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer.
“Well, if you think turning down an account from one of the McCoys is smart business, we may have to reevaluate your employment here.”
My mouth falls open, as I try to come up with a defense. One of the McCoys? The only big-time McCoys I know of own most of the cattle in the Midwest. They’re based out of Missouri, but I’ve never read or seen anything that connected Battle to them.
“I’m so sorry, sir.”
Mr. Fenton waves his hand. “I’m not going to fire you, but you are going to accept Mr. McCoy as a client. Clear your calendar this afternoon and make time to see to Mr. McCoy’s needs. Are we clear?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Battle’s smug smile that I want to slap off of his gloating face. See to his needs my ass. That would lead to him being buried inside of me on top of my desk.
“Yes, sir. We’re clear.”
Mr. Fenton stands and shakes Battle’s hand. “My apologies, Mr. McCoy. I don’t know what has gotten into Ms. Callahan, but I assure you, she is the best at what she does.”
Battle turns his head to me. “I have no doubt,” he says with a mischievous grin.
I fight the urge to stomp out of my boss’s office, and nod politely before I turn and leave. Battle follows close behind me. My jaw hurts from clenching my teeth as fury runs rampant through my veins. Mr. Fenton was spot-on with his first impression of Battle. He’s a spoiled brat who uses money and power to get what he wants.
Sophia’s eyes widen in surprise when we walk past her desk and into my office. I slam the door shut, fuming mad and glare at Battle. He removes his hat, placing it on the coat rack behind him. His prefect blue eyes linger on my lips. He wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him.
“You’re angry,” he says.
“I’m furious! I don’t appreciate you goin’ to my boss. Workin’ with you jeopardizes my job. I told you Marshall has a strict policy about datin’ clients.”
“We aren’t datin’.”
Him reminding me, brings back all the disappointment and hurt feelings from the morning I dropped him off at his house, only they’re stronger now. “I think fuckin’ falls into the no datin’ rule! My managin’ your portfolio represents a conflict of interest.”
“You’ve been clear that we aren’t fuckin’. Therefore, I don’t see a conflict.” He edges closer to me. I don’t back away when the back of his hand strokes my cheek before moving softly over my lips. My skin heats under his fingers, and I smother a moan. “Unless of course, you’re considerin’ changin’ your mind. I’m still interested.”
His words make my skin blister. Fucking is all he wants from me. My stomach burns and my chest vibrates as I smack his hand away. “Absolutely not! Our relationship is purely professional.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is what I want,” I tell him, taking a seat behind my desk. He declines to sit, but moves to the front of my desk. His brooding posture as he towers above me, intimidates me, but I refuse to look up at him. “Let’s get started. I’ll need your financial statements … Profit and Loss…”
He interrupts. “Paperwork?”
“Yes.”
“It’s all at my house.”
Relief rushes out of me. His lack of preparation has conveniently become my opportunity to escape. “Well, I’m gonna need it before we get started. Make an appointment with Sophia on your way out for next week, and bring it with you.”
“Since your calendar’s free this afternoon, I don’t see why you can’t come to my house. I’ll buy you lunch, and we can work there.”
“I don’t make house calls,” I lie. Truthfully, most of my clients have a home office. I often go to their homes for meetings, but being alone with Battle isn’t a smart choice.
He makes his way to the door. “I’m happy to ask Mr. Fenton if he’ll allow you to make an exception.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, narrowing my eyes as I stand, leaning over my desk.
“I didn’t think so.”
I’m starting to truly hate his grin.