In Your Eyes (Man of the Month 6)

"Or am I wrong?" he asked, his voice low and very, very sensual.

It took her a second to remember her name, much less what they'd been talking about. "That wasn't prancing," she said, when her brain stared to function again. "It was preening."

Almost. He almost smiled at that. Instead, he managed to wipe his expression clear, then revealed nothing when he returned to the desk, once again leaned against it, and said, "I think you might be splitting hairs, Ms. Clark."

"I just mean that it is a calendar contest. Some amount of preening or prancing or strutting is expected." And, she thought, he could strut for her anytime he wanted to.

"Not by me. Since, as I already mentioned, I never intended to enter your contest. And by the way, did it even occur to you to ask my permission?"

Whatever sensual haze had started to descend on her, that completely obliterated it, and she almost leaped out of her chair. "Excuse me? Of course! I called and talked to your assistant. I specifically told her who I was, that I was calling on behalf of The Fix, and that we were hoping you'd participate in the contest."

"And then you just assumed I'd agree, so you went and plastered your flyers all over town."

"I--" She cut herself off. Dammit, she wanted to argue--to tell him that his previous assistant screwed up, which she had. But Megan had screwed up, too, and why get both of them in trouble?

"What?" Parker demanded as the silence lingered. "Did Lisa tell you she was sure I'd be happy to help, and you took that as gospel even before confirmation?"

"No," she lied. "No, I just asked for permission. And in my eagerness to get the flyer out, I guess I just assumed that you would do it."

For a moment, he said nothing. He simply watched her. When he finally spoke, all he said was, "Why?"

She shrugged, her frustration with herself rising anew. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe because we used to know each other." She drew a breath and looked down at the floor. And then, because this was the time for mea culpas, she told him the rest of it. "Or maybe because once upon a time I thought that you liked me."

She lifted her eyes to look at him. "At least just a little."

He held her gaze, and his expression didn't change at all. But she thought she saw his shoulders sag just a bit. The silence between them grew thick until, finally, he said quietly. "I did. I do." The hint of a smile danced at the corner of his mouth. "Or maybe you missed the implications of my earlier negotiating point. I thought I'd made it clear that I want you."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not a reflection of like. That's a reflection of being an asshole."

"Careful -- I can withdraw my very kind offer and watch you scramble to fix this mess you've tossed me into."

His words were intense, but his tone was light. So maybe they were reaching a detente?

She couldn't be certain, though. Just having her in the room seemed to amuse him. And she couldn't risk screwing up again.

"I can fix this," she said firmly. "You say that I've damaged your reputation? We can use that reputation, and then walk away with it even stronger than before."

"I'm listening."

"Why don't we announce that you're doing it for a good cause. And for every vote for you, you'll donate $100 to charity."

He crossed his arms, looking both smug and amused. "So instead of you scrambling to fix this, I'm going write a very large check?"

"Um..."

"And what about all the men who don't win because I get the charity vote?"

She looked him up and down. "I just got a sneak peek at your prancing ability, remember? Believe me, you'll win even w

ithout the charity vote."

His brows rose, and she saw the flicker of heat in his eyes. But all he said was, "Nice try."

"Fine. You're right. It was a terrible idea." Shit. She was just digging herself in deeper and deeper.

"Actually, the charity idea's not bad. I can work with it."

"Really?" Relief positively flowed through her veins, as warm and sweet as hot fudge sauce. Thank goodness that was settled.