Working It (9 page)

“
After
the sale?” Ken's voice cracked. “What, are you nuts? You should've been down on your knees thanking her! What in the world were you fighting about?”

“It's not really important. Well…I might have made some comments on how she handled the sale. I made some comments.” Drew paused. “Bad comments.”

Ken didn't say anything, but Drew knew he was waiting.

“Like comments about her being a woman and getting the sale,” Drew finished.

Another moment of silence from Ken, then, “As in, I-should-be-getting-the-lawyer-on-the-phone comments?”

“I don't think it'll come to that.” Especially not after her chosen method of retaliation. He could still feel her, all smooth skin and hot, mobile mouth. He didn't know that he'd ever forget that sensation.

“Can you patch it up?”

“I don't know. It was a really bad fight.” Drew thought about it. “I don't know if she even wants to talk to me.”

“Tough shit.” Ken's voice turned gravelly, less like the benevolent executive he'd become and more like the factory worker he'd grown up as. “Grovel if you have to. But if she's going to save Robson Steel, you can afford to lose a little pride. The factory, Drew. That's the only thing that matters.”

“All right, all right. I'll take care of it.”

“Good. Tell me how it goes. And for God's sake…keep it together.” With that, Ken hung up unceremoniously.

Drew took a deep breath and walked out of his room, heading to Jade's door.

“Jade?” Drew knocked on her door, calling softly. “Jade, please let me in. I need to talk to you.”

He thought he heard her stepping up to the doorway, probably peering through the peephole. He held his breath. Then he heard the latch slide, and she opened the door.

“It's late, Drew.”

She was wearing a long T-shirt and a pair of sweats. Her hair was pulled into a makeshift ponytail, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. The slight dusting of freckles that her makeup normally covered was peeking
out at him from underneath green eyes that looked way too tired.

“I know. I'm sorry,” he said apologetically. “I didn't wake you, did I?”

She didn't answer. He didn't think she'd been sleeping, either. She had dark shadows under her eyes. Maybe she'd been crying. He felt his stomach churn. God, he hoped she hadn't been crying. Making a woman as tough as Jade Morrow cry was practically a felony. If anything, he felt worse.

“I just want to talk to you,” he said.

Her eyebrow went up; she still held the door.

“And apologize. I really need to apologize, Jade.”

She sighed, then walked into her room. He followed, shutting the door behind him.

She sat on the edge of the bed, then looked at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “I was angry that you managed the sale,” he said without preamble. “I was angry that I'd screwed things up so badly. And I'll be honest—I didn't like the way that guy was looking at you or talking to you. And you didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, you…” He paused. “I
felt like
you were using it to your advantage.”

“If I felt insulted every time a guy gave me a once-over, I'd be permanently pissed off, Drew,” Jade said, her voice weary. “If he'd gone further than that, I would have stopped him cold. But he was just trying to show off, show he was better than me. And show that he was too important for Robson Steel to play straight with. I didn't take it personally. Instead, I let him keep his pride, while showing him that if he didn't go with Robson, odds were good that he'd be screwed
and he'd be kicked out of his newly redecorated office by the end of the year.”

Drew winced. Yeah, she'd done that. Neatly. Professionally.

“I am sorry,” he said, and he meant it.

She kept quiet for a moment, then looked at him, her eyes enormous, with a sheen of moisture that she quickly blinked away. “I've taken a lot of crap from clients. Ordinarily, it doesn't affect me this way,” she said, and he was amazed at how casual her voice stayed, at odds with her expression. “I let you get to me. It won't happen again.”

He wanted to sit next to her, to take her into his arms, to comfort her for the hurt he himself had caused. But he thought it would just damage matters more. “I was a jerk,” he said instead. “I was a complete ass. I felt stupid and threatened, and I just went after the easy insult. I didn't want to admit that you were right.”

She cocked her head. “Are you admitting I was right now?”

He nodded. “You got that sale on your own,” he said. “You did it with finesse. Hell. You did it with
class.
I could definitely take lessons from you.”

She smiled weakly. “Well. At least that's a step in the right direction.” She stood up, walking over to him, and put her hand out. “Then let's make a bargain of our own. For the next three weeks we have left, you listen to me. You actually
work
with me. None of this patronizing, none of this pretended open-mindedness. You're going to work harder with me than you ever have with anyone in your entire life.”

He took her hand. “Deal.”

Her grip tightened, surprising him. “And if you ever,
ever
insinuate that I'm using my body or my looks to
land a sale,” she said, her voice still casual although the fire in her green eyes was anything but, “I will make you the sorriest man alive.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

“Great.” She let go of his hand, then motioned to the door.

“Ah, there's one other thing,” he said.

“What?”

She was looking less hurt. He wondered if he was going to make things worse—but damn it, it was something that had to be dealt with. They were going to be on the road together, and working in pretty close quarters, for the next few weeks. Better to talk about it now and get it over with.

“The kiss, Jade,” he said. He couldn't help it, his voice thickened a little.

She sighed. “Now that's something I need to apologize for. I've never…” She cleared her throat and looked away from him for a moment. Then she looked at him, the clear, direct gaze he was used to. “I have a policy of not getting involved with my clients. I certainly have never harassed one before. I sincerely apologize.”

“I sort of brought it on,” Drew muttered.

“There is absolutely no excuse,” Jade replied. She obviously felt guilty…her face had gone pale. “I can assure you of one thing—it won't ever happen again.”

The wave of regret that that announcement caused hit Drew with a wallop. “I, uh…well.”

What was he going to say?
I didn't mind at all. In fact, I was hoping we could try it under different circumstances. How's next Tuesday for you?

“Let's just pretend it didn't happen,” he said finally. “Start over. Clean slate.”

She smiled and he could see the tension release from her. She almost sank onto the bed. “Clean slate.”

The fact that she felt better made him feel better, at least. Well, part of him felt better.

She got up, walked over to the door and opened it. “You'd better get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long drive, and we're going to be starting your coaching for real. Your brain is going to be tapioca before I'm finished with you.”

He grinned. “I'm not afraid of you.”

“You will be,” she said, winking.

He paused in her door frame. He was going to kick himself for this, but… “Before we go completely clean slate, I want to make one comment. Then it's behind us for good.”

She looked as though she was bracing herself against the door. “Yes?”

He thought twice about it, then went ahead and said it. “I believe you.”

“You believe me, what?”

“The way you kiss,” Drew said quietly, “you could've gotten anybody in the world to do anything you wanted.”

He waited, studying her reaction.

Then, slowly, she smiled.

“Since our clean slate starts tomorrow, I guess I can add this,” she said, her voice going smooth and tinged with laughter as she nudged him out the door. “You should see me when I'm really trying.”

She closed the door, leaving him in the hallway, grinning…and, not surprisingly, turned on as all hell.

“Well, you asked for it, you idiot,” he muttered to himself, then went back to his empty room with a rueful grin.

I
T WAS THREE DAYS
P.K., or Post Kiss. They'd visited two small clients who had duly re-upped their order for the following year with little or no persuasion on Drew's part. Jade had been introduced as a consultant and colleague. She'd been talking with Drew about business every single day in the car, but once they got to their hotel, they usually went to their respective rooms. Often they were right next door to each other. She wasn't sure if the kiss had anything to do with the decision to keep to themselves every evening, but they were running out of time. She had his agreement to work with her, and she couldn't afford to waste a minute.

She stared at his hotel room door, taking a deep breath.

I can't remember when I've been this nervous before.

She meant that, too. Her palms actually felt a little sweaty. She'd certainly never felt this way meeting with a client before.

Of course, I've never actually kissed a client before, either.

And she'd never kissed a client, or kissed
anybody,
who came remotely close to Drew Robson.

She replayed the kiss at odd times. Like she was in high school, mooning over the first guy she'd ever
kissed, she thought with derision. There would be a lull in their intensely focused conversations, and she'd find herself staring out the window, brushing her lips with her fingertips. Remembering the feel of his lips against hers, the way he turned what was meant to be a harsh, punishing action and coaxing her to relax. He'd all but seduced her with the brush of his lips, the feel of him, the taste of him as her tongue stroked against his. Then they were on the bed, the hardness of his chest beneath her. The hardness of
him
between her thighs, making her want to scream with wanting.

It was insane, to say the least. No wonder she was hesitant to go to his hotel room, for whatever the reason.

Just put it out of your mind. This is too important.

She put her hand up to the door.

Game on, Jade.

She knocked.

He opened it almost immediately. He was wearing his usual jeans and a T-shirt, and his hair was mussed. His eyes were candle-bright as he surveyed her. “Hi, there. I thought you were room service.”

“Nope.” She forced a smile. “If you've got the time, I thought we'd go over the next customer file, and maybe tie in how your sales strategy is going to apply to your investor meeting.”

His grin was quick, and she warmed to it. “Now, how could I turn down an invitation like that? Ugh.”

“It won't be that bad,” she said, feeling comforted. He was being casual about everything, as if they'd never had their, er, “incident.” She was just being weird about the whole thing. She needed to relax, just get past it.

“What'd you order?” She settled herself in the
chair. The hotel was almost exactly like the last hotel they stayed in, she noted…the same Navajo-white walls, similar tacky bedspread, even the same televisions that were often chained to the tables. Or worse, the remotes chained to the nightstands.

“I got the caviar,” Drew joked, leaning against the dresser. “They're throwing in a grilled cheese sandwich for free.”

She chuckled. “I had the goose liver pâté and a tuna melt.”

He grinned. “Bright lights, big cities, gourmet food…how are you ever going to adjust to life in Los Angeles?”

“It'll be a letdown, but somehow I'll manage.”

He studied her thoughtfully…then, unfortunately, he moved over to the bed, throwing himself across it. He rested his chin on his hands, looking at her. “Do you like it? Los Angeles, I mean.”

She wished he wasn't on the bed. She crossed her legs primly, ignoring the slight ache just looking at his lean form stretched out on the mattress. “Ah…L.A.? I like it, I guess.”

“So you're not from there, huh?”

“No. I grew up closer to San Diego.” She'd brought a diet cola that she'd bought at the vending machine, and she walked over to his bucket of ice, studiously avoiding looking at him as she poured her soda into a glass. “Nice, but boring. I went to school in San Francisco, then moved to L.A. when I got the job. That's about it.”

“They're all very different cities. Do you have a favorite?”

She frowned. “I never really thought about it that way. I had fun in college. I used to have fun in Los
Angeles, but now…” She shrugged. “When you're in an office, I guess it doesn't really much matter which city you're in.”

She hadn't really meant to say that last bit, but now that she thought about it, it seemed true enough. “Why don't we get back to…”

He stopped her with a quiet question. “Is there just work in your life, Jade?”

“That's kind of a personal question, isn't it?” She laughed a little, to take the sting out of her comment. She was working hard to build rapport with him. Still, considering how personal they'd gotten with that kiss the other night, she wasn't sure she wanted to start sharing too much.

“Tell you what,” he said with a conspiratorial wink. “I won't tell anyone, and then you can ask me a personal question.”

“Quid pro quo, huh?” She looked at the sheaf of papers and file folders she'd brought in with her. “I think we ought to focus on your client tomorrow instead. Jacoby Construction? Ring a bell?”

He groaned, burying his face in a pillow. “You're a machine,” he said in a muffled voice. He unearthed himself enough to look at her, his blue eyes full of mischief. “You've got to do something for fun.”

“I discipline businessmen. Usually with a whip,” she said wryly, wiggling her eyebrows. “Come on, now. Stay focused.”

“That brings up a question,” he responded, and now she groaned. “Why P.R.? I imagine you'd be good in any kind of business. Why would you get into something like public relations?”

“I don't think I like the way you say ‘public relations.'” She laughed, shaking her head. “It's as if
you're saying, ‘gee, you're a nice girl. Why are you turning tricks for a living?' or something.”

“Well, it just seems like…” He stopped. “Why don't you tell me how you see public relations, then. I'll stop while I'm ahead.”

“Finally, the man wises up,” she said, taking a sip of her soda and sitting back in her chair, tucking her feet up under her. “I got into public relations because I like the media. When I first was in school, I thought I'd be a newscaster or a journalist or something.” She laughed. “Can you imagine? Jade Morrow with your nightly news.”

He smiled, his eyes glinting. “I bet I'd catch the five, seven and nine o'clock showings,” he murmured.

She warmed, and looked away for a second, trying desperately to get her bearings. “Uh…anyway, I worked in the public relations department of this little publisher one summer. They didn't have any money for advertising, but they believed in what they were doing so much, they got tons of publicity and word of mouth. They really were fantastic. I found out I liked that much more than reporting about murders or just looking good on television. So I got a few jobs, wound up working for Michaels and Associates, and the rest is history.”

“That's how you got me.” His grin was devilish.

She smiled. “Yeah. That's how I got you.”

“I don't know. I guess I thought it might be a family business thing,” he said, rolling over onto his back and contemplating the ceiling. She felt a twinge…and before she knew it, she had stood up and walked over to the bed. Gingerly, she perched on the edge of it.

If he makes any sudden or remotely sexy moves,
she reassured herself,
I'm out of here.

But he didn't. He just lay there, with his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling with eyes as blue as a summer sky.

“I've wanted to be in steel since I was old enough to go to the plant.”

“How old was that?” She scooted back just a few inches, so she wasn't slipping off the bedspread.

“I don't know. Around four, I guess.”

“Four?” Just another few inches. She could smell his cologne…something spicy, exotic, an unusual counterpoint to his black Irish looks. “That's unusual, isn't it?”

“I'd like to say I was a steel prodigy,” he said, glancing at her finally, “but honestly…I think most boys love the idea of heavy metal and furnaces and loud machinery.”

She laughed at his candor, leaning on one arm…getting just a little bit closer to him. “I guess your family must have been proud.”

He shook his head. “My grandfather was ecstatic. I think my father…well, I don't know. He was sort of competitive. We never really saw eye to eye.”

“That's why you worked somewhere else,” she mused.

He looked pained for a second. “Yeah. I felt like a traitor the whole first year I worked for one of our competitors. Still, it was good training. And I guess I knew, deep down, I'd be back at Robson. Only when I got there, I knew I'd be running the place.” He grimaced. “I just had no idea it was going to be under these circumstances.”

“I'm sure it was a disappointment,” she said.

He glanced at her, shaking his head. “I'm not disappointed that it couldn't give me a fortune or any
thing. I just didn't think I'd be in a position where I might not be able to save it.”

She stared at him for a second. He meant it, every word. He wasn't bitter that he wasn't head of a successful company. He was afraid he couldn't give enough to it.

Her heart warmed. She reached out, stroking the hair out of his eyes, letting her fingertips trail for a second across the smooth skin of his forehead.

“Your plant is very lucky they've got a guy like you in charge,” she said quietly.

He smiled. She didn't know how a man of his size, practically a giant, still had the heart to smile like that—almost innocently. She wanted to melt into him.

“They're lucky I have you working for me,” he replied in his low bass voice. “Not everybody has a bona fide, kick-ass sales coach like I do.”

She shook her head, pulling her hand away. “And a fine job I'm doing, letting you slack off on the job,” she said, her voice shaking a little bit. “We, uh, better go over those customer files, huh?”

“Quick question,” he said.

“I've let you ask enough questions,” she evaded, starting to move off of the bed. But his hand on her wrist stopped her. It was a gentle touch, but warm. Very warm. Reluctantly she looked at him.

“Your family,” he said. “Are they proud of you?”

She blanched, almost falling off of the bed in her haste. “I suppose so. It's not something we talk about. Why do you ask?”

“You asked me if mine was.” He stared at her. “And you know what my dad is like. That's the biggest problem I have here, I think…getting past that. Embezzlement, leaving the company such a mess. Every
time I walk into a meeting, I feel like I've got something to prove.” He looked at her, his expression quizzical. “I wondered if you'd even begin to be able to understand what that's like.”

She thought of her parents. “Honestly, no. My parents…well, they were both busy. It wasn't unusual for Dad to work eighty hours a week at the investment firm, and my mother was a trial lawyer…well, they were busy. But they didn't take anything from me,” she said hastily. “They were both…”

She was about to say
supportive,
but found that she couldn't. “They paid for my education. We're not exactly what anyone would call a close family, but not everybody is.”

He sat up and was staring at her…seeing past her evasions, she felt. “It must have been lonely.”

She shrugged. “My best friend Hailey was there. I spent a lot of time with her family.” She smiled, thinking of the raucous crowd of them at her high school graduation, then at her college one. “I didn't mind.”

“I see.” He paused a beat, then said, “So. Both of your parents were workaholics.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I suppose you could say…”

Suddenly, she stopped.

When you're in an office, I guess it doesn't really much matter which city you're in.

“What are you getting at?” She stood, spun, her fists on her hips. “I know I focus on work, but…”

“Shh.” He stood and, to her shock, actually put a finger on her lips. She didn't know whether to bite him or to kiss him. He pulled his hand away. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…damn it. I
did
mean to pry.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you, Jade,” he said. “And I didn't think I would.”

She didn't know what to say to that, so she didn't say anything. “Well…” She sighed. “You might call me a workaholic, but I still think we need to get cracking on that customer file.”

“I don't think you're a workaholic. Well, you might be, but I'd be the pot calling the kettle black if I said you were.” He smiled. “I'm sorry, really. Friends?”

His smile was winning…but there was something in his eyes that said he'd just started scratching the surface. The client-coach relationship was definitely getting murky—exactly what she
didn't
want.

“Friends,” she said instead. “Now can we…”

He surprised her again, this time by stroking her arm, one quick, friendly motion. “All right, all right, you slave driver,” he said, his voice joking, his eyes serious. “Where were we?”

We were about a foot from your bed and headed straight for it.

She cleared her throat, sat and grabbed the file folder nearest to her. “We were going to go over your sales points.”

And, she thought, we were going to get away from anything remotely personal that would make me feel any closer to you than I already do.