I’m giving her an out and taking the blame, one hundred percent. She’s here to help, and I acted exactly like the arrogant asshole she called me. Hell, like the devil everyone online is calling me, for that matter.
She takes a breath and steps back. “Thank you, but I apologize too. It seems we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe we can reconvene after lunch and start over?”
Decided, Jayme picks up her leather bag and marches out. I definitely watch her hair swing left and right above her ass, which is swishing the opposite way.
After she’s for sure gone, Xavier whistles softly, giving me a look. “Damn, man. What’d you do to her? She looked ready to kill you or kiss you. Maybe both.”
I purse my lips, wondering about that myself. “Probably the former.”
“I don’t know,” Xavier muses, making my ears perk up. He’s a smart man, one of my best analysts precisely because he does have a way of reading people, so I can’t dismiss what he has to say. “Sometimes the best kisses are after wanting to kill each other. At least that’s the way it is with me and Alicia.”
I chuckle, knowing that he’s been married to his high school sweetheart for twenty years. “Don’t you have like five kids? Alicia must want to kill you often.”
“Shoot, if it wasn’t for my getting the snip-snip years ago, I’d probably have my own basketball team by now,” he jokes. “You could bet on me every time.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue with Jayme.” I look at the empty doorway, wondering what the hell just happened. “Hell, she may not even come back.”
He shrugs doubtfully. “If you say so.”
CHAPTER 4
JAYME
I take a sip of my warm tea, my traditional reward for a long and taxing day. It’s better than whiskey, although I feel like today, of all days, I could make an exception.
After lunch, Carson was downright civil, blander than plain white toast, and I’m not sure if he was actually listening to me or letting me talk so as not to rock the boat further. He did answer my questions, robotically and concisely, without any of the emotional context that would let me know how he actually felt about his answers, which is almost as important as the facts themselves.
But at least I got more information about Steen Amusements and Carson Steen, which was my goal, anyway.
Reading over the email on my laptop, I double- and triple-check my response to the firm . . .
Hi, Patrick. Today went as well as expected. There was the typical initial pushback, but I think Carson Steen is salvageable, and the repair of Steen Amusements is completely doable. I’ll be in touch with any concerns or significant progress. -Jayme
Fortunately, my boss at Compass is pretty hands-off on the day to day, but he does like to be kept in the loop, especially when I first make contact on a new assignment. Even as I hit Send, I’m replaying the day. I sometimes have to be crude and rough with clients who aren’t ready to hear hard truths about the consequences of their actions, but today was different and I know it. I didn’t resort to name-calling with Carson for his own good but because I lost all sense of professionalism. He got to me.
And that can’t happen again.
I try to put myself in Carson Steen’s place. What would my reaction be to someone coming into my family’s business, calling me to task, and attempting to muzzle me? I probably would’ve reacted poorly too. His chest-beating, alpha-hole, territorial-style anger makes sense from that perspective.
My thoughts continue as I let the stress leave me with each sip of my herbal tea. But with that come worried thoughts. What is Carson doing? Is he out riding his motorcycle too fast or sitting on the sidelines at a game he’s wagered on?
Shit. I know what he’s doing. Hell, I know where he is.
I set my laptop down and don’t bother with the last of my tea before stomping off to my bedroom. Grabbing a fresh skirt, I scan my blouses. This calls for something a bit different from my daily work wear, but I still want to be professional. I need to draw those boundaries with Carson . . . and myself.
When I see it, I can’t help but talk out loud to myself. “Perfect!”
First up? A black silk blouse with a hint of lace at the shoulder that gives it a cap sleeve effect. Sexy but modest and goes perfectly with my cocoa-colored skirt that matches my eyes. A pair of black strappy pumps that make my legs look a mile long, and I’m out the door, thankful I hadn’t gotten as far as washing my face or pulling my hair up for bed.