“Safe to say we called it even after that,” she said.
“They didn’t do something else to you, did they?” Ian asked, running one hand through his sandy blond hair to pull it off his forehead. He needed a trim. She liked it longer, especially when it fell across his eyes while bending over to look at blueprints. But if Mr. Ian “Bossman” Asher wanted his hair to match the fancy suits he wore, he should probably tidy up. “I thought things—”
“The guys and I are good now,” she said. “I haven’t had to weld anyone’s car door shut in months.”
“Thank God. You are a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Because I’m the only woman on your crew?”
“Because you’re a maniac.”
“Do you call all the women who don’t like you ‘maniacs?’ Does it make you feel better about yourself?” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned casually in the doorway. She felt anything but casual around Ian Asher, but he didn’t need to know that.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he nodded. “You’re right. That wasn’t fair of me,” he said, sitting forward at his desk and clasping his hands. His jaw was set tight like it usually was when she stepped into a room. “I’m sorry I said that.”
She shrugged. “It’s all right. After you fucked me and dumped me, I called you every name in the book and invented a few of my own. You can call me a ‘maniac’ if you want.”
Ian stood up immediately, walked—almost ran—to his office door, pulled her inside and shut the door behind them.
“Can you keep your voice down?” he asked. “I’m trying to run a reputable company here.”
“Then why did you hire me?” she asked.
“I didn’t hire you. My father did.”
“Oh, yeah. Then why haven’t you fired me?”
“Because you’re very good at what you do.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said with a wink. Since she had nothing to lose anymore, she turned and sat down on the top of his desk.
“I wasn’t talking about that night.”
She crossed her legs, which was hard to do in loose canvas pants but she made it work.
“Oh... ‘That Night.’ It has a name. I’m so good in bed our one night together has a name.”
“That Stupid Night,” he said. “That Drunk Night.”
“We weren’t drunk. You’d had two beers and I had two shots of whiskey and neither one of us is a lightweight. Don’t blame booze for your own bad decisions,” she said, raising her chin. “Or was it a bad decision? You tell me.”
“Yes, it was. That I’m having this conversation with you is proof it was a bad decision. I don’t want to be having this conversation with any of my employees. I’m trying to be a good boss here. You’re not helping.”
“How am I not helping?” she asked.
“Because you don’t want me to be a good boss.”
Flash almost felt bad for him. Almost. He was rich, he was handsome, he had been handed a high-paying job at a multimillion-dollar construction company with a bow tied around it, compliments of Daddy, so it was really hard for her to muster up any sympathy for the man. If he ever had a real problem in his life, it sure
as hell wasn’t her.
Then again he was also six-two, broad-shouldered, and annoyingly good in bed. She knew that for a fact thanks to “That Night” six months ago. And that meant she did feel for him a little bit. A little teeny tiny bit. Not that she would tell him that. He didn’t need to know she liked him. In fact, the less he knew about that, the better.
“Poor Ian,” she said, shaking her head. “A victim of desire. You’re a Lifetime movie. Can we get Chris Hemsworth to play you? You two have the same hair. And the same shoulders. I remember because I’ve bitten them.”
“You’ve bitten Chris Hemsworth’s shoulders?”
“A lady never bites and tells. Too bad I’m not a lady.”