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  “I see. Well, I came to offer you your job back, with an apology and perhaps a small raise. But if you’d rather go through our attorneys, that’s fine, too.” I started to get up from my chair—calling her bluff.

  She fell for it. “Actually, I’d rather not deal with attorneys. I was just letting you know what mine said.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Letting me know so you can use it as leverage against me?”

  She folded her arms across her chest, mimicking my stance. “Are you going to sit down so we can have a conversation or stomp out like a child?”

  The woman had giant balls; I had to give her that. If she only knew how her attitude made me want to take a peek between her legs and check for some. We stared at each other for a full sixty seconds, and then I caved and sat down.

  “Alright, Ms. Saint James. Let’s put our cards on the table. What is it that you want?”

  “I heard you fired Bickman. Is it true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like the methods he used to monitor his employees.”

  “Good. Me either. Plus, he’s a dick.”

  My lip twitched. “Yes, there’s that, too.”

  “Did you follow me to the coffee shop?”

  “No. And for the record, I don’t follow women or my employees around. I happened to walk in to grab a cup of coffee. My phone had rung in the car, and the connection was bad and dropped the call. I needed to compose a text to the caller so she wouldn’t worry.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were when you realized who I was?”

  “I already answered that question for you the other day. It was a coincidence that I sat down at your table. And then when I realized…I was intrigued about what you might say.”

  The waiter brought her wine and my water, and Ireland alternated between watching him and looking at me.

  “We’ll need a few minutes,” I said. “We haven’t looked at the menus yet.”

  Ireland’s eyes were on me again when the waiter disappeared. She seemed to be mulling something over.

  “Any other questions?”

  She nodded. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You said you were on the phone while you were driving, and the call got dropped, and you didn’t want the person to worry.”

  I sipped my water. “My grandmother, not that it’s any of your business. Are we done with the interrogation now? Because I was considering putting the drunken emails you sent me behind us. But if you’d like to rehash every last interaction we’ve had, we can discuss those, too.”

  She squinted at me and drank some of her wine. “I want a twenty-percent raise, and consideration given to Madeline Newton for Bickman’s position.”

  Interesting. I scratched my chin. “One thing at a time. I’ll give you ten percent.”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Twelve and a half.”

  She smiled. “Seventeen.”

  I chuckled. “That’s not the way this works. Once you go down in a negotiation, you don’t get to go back up if you’re not liking the way things are going.”

  She frowned. “Who said?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you your fifteen, but for that, you’ll also have to sign a release form, giving up your right to any potential lawsuit for anything Bickman might have done during his tenure.”

  She thought about it. “Okay. That’s fair. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t going to sue you anyway. I think our society is litigious enough. Plus, I don’t like dealing with lawyers.”

  “What about Scott Marcum?”

  “Especially Scott Marcum.”

  Good to know. “So we have a deal then?”

  “As long as you’ll give consideration to Madeline Newton for Bickman’s position. She’s the best person for the job, and has been passed over twice.”

  “If she applies, I’ll make sure she’s given due consideration.”

  “Thank you.” She put out her hand. “Then I guess we have a deal.”

  I shouldn’t have noticed how tiny and soft her hands were, how much her skin felt like silk, but I did.

  I cleared my throat after we shook. “I’ll let Mike Charles know you’ll be taking the reins back immediately. I have to admit, I’m surprised you won’t try for Bickman’s position yourself.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not ready for it. But Madeline will do a great job. Unlike Bickman, she’s smart and fair, and people respect what she says. Well, actually, to be fair, Bickman was smart, too. Just not when it came to women.”

  This woman just kept surprising me.

  “You thought Bickman was smart?”

  She nodded. “He was. It was everything else that was horrible.”

  “How did you two manage to co-exist for so long if he was that bad?”

  “He was rude and demeaning, and I got my joy from the little things I did that drove him nuts. I pretended it balanced things.”

  My brows narrowed. “What little things?”

  She smirked. “Well, he had certain pet peeves. For example, he couldn’t stand when someone tapped their foot. It would make him turn the color of a tomato while he held in exploding about it.”

  “Okay…”

  “So I would tap my foot and watch the vein in his neck pulse when he pissed me off.”

  My brows rose.

  “He also once mentioned that he hated when people wore too much perfume or cologne. So I kept a bottle in my desk drawer for those times when I saw him ogling a woman’s ass. I’d douse myself before going into his office and pretending I needed help with a story.”

  “Creative,” I said.

  “I thought so.”

  Ireland Saint James had a wicked side, that was for sure. I probably shouldn’t have, but I found it rather sexy.

  The waiter came back over to take our order, but we still hadn’t checked out the menu. “Have you decided yet?”

  Ireland held her menu up to the waiter. “Actually, I’m not going to be staying for lunch. So it’s just Mr. Lexington.”

  “Alright.” The waiter nodded and then turned to me. “For you, sir?”

  “I need a few more minutes.”

  After the waiter walked away, I raised a brow. “Not hungry?”

  “I’m always hungry. But I need to change the flat to my spare so I can drive the car to the tire shop. My roommate has to work at three, and she’s going to give me a lift back home so I don’t have to wait there. Last time they took hours, and now that I’m employed again…I have a ton of work to catch up on.”

  I nodded. “Do you have AAA?” I wasn’t sure why the hell I’d asked. Was I going to go over and roll up the sleeves of my custom-made shirt and change it for her if she didn’t?

  “No. But I know how to change it. I’ve done it before.” She laughed. “I once went on a date with a guy who got a flat while driving me home. He’d never changed a tire, so I changed it for him.”

  I smiled. “I bet he didn’t get a second date.”

  She finished off her wine. “Definitely not.”

  My mind conjured up a quick flash of Ireland changing a tire. Only she wasn’t changing some guy’s tire while dressed for a date. She had on a pair of Daisy Dukes, a shirt tied in a knot exposing a fuck of a lot of tanned skin, her hair was in pigtails, and she had a smudge of grease on her cheek. The grease was fucking hot.

  I shook my head and cleared my throat. “I’ll let people know to expect you back at work.”

  Ireland stood, and I followed suit. She extended her hand. “Thank you for getting involved. Obviously, you didn’t have to. Especially after the horrible emails I sent.”

  I nodded and shook. “I think everything worked out the way it should have.”

  She gathered her purse and started to walk away, then turned back. “Oh…and I gave you my number for lunch. Obviously this means I can’t go out with you.”

  “Of course.” I
smiled. “Turns out you’re not my type anyway.”

  Ireland narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly is your type?”

  “The non-pain-in-the-ass type. Have a good day, Ms. Richardson.”

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Ireland

  “You look insane, you know.” Mia looked up at the hat on my head. It was totally lopsided and had two weird points that stuck up. It gave off sort of a homeless-jester vibe. Not to mention it was going to be seventy-five degrees today. But I wore it on my drive to work every day anyway.

  “You’re just jealous because Aunt Opal doesn’t crochet for you.”

  “I love Opal. But, yeah…not jealous your aunt who is almost blind left me off her Christmas crochet gift list.”

  I opened the passenger door and grabbed my bag. “Thank you for getting up and driving me at this ungodly hour. I didn’t want to call an Uber and risk getting to work late on my first day back. I owe you one.”

  “You owe me a thousand. I’ll just add it to your tab.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “What time should I pick you up?”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll get a ride or grab an Uber to the tire shop to pick up my car. I’ll just see you at home later.” The tire shop had called to tell me I also desperately needed brakes and an alignment. So my flat tire had turned into two days without a car.

  “Are you sure? I have coverage at the spa today. In fact, I have no idea what to do with myself since Christian talked me into not doing treatments and only managing the place now. I can pick you up. We can even grab some lunch. Better yet, I’ll bring you back to the salon, and we’ll get a couple’s massage. My treat!”

  Mia owned a successful medi-spa—the kind that did facials, Botox injections, massages, and laser treatments. Her fiancé was trying to teach her to be a manager instead of a worker bee, so she could prepare to open a second location.

  “I’d love to. But I’m going to have to work late to catch up. Maybe we can grab some dinner when I get home?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t. I promised Christian I’d make him his favorite dinner—tortellini ala Mia.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Tortellini in a cream sauce. He loves the sauce, so I let him paint it on me when he’s done.”

  “TMI, friend.” I laughed. “TMI. But I thought he wasn’t coming home until tomorrow?”

  “He changed his flight.” She smiled like a bride three weeks away from her wedding day. “He said he missed me too much to stay another night after his last meeting. So he’s taking the last flight home. I’ll probably just crash over there tonight.”

  I opened my mouth and pointed inside it with my finger, making a gagging noise. But the truth was, I envied her relationship with her fiancé. I wouldn’t believe most men were coming home early just to see their girlfriend of three years, but Christian was as head over heels for Mia now as when they first got together.

  I got out of the car and held the door.

  Mia wagged her finger at me. “Now be a good girl while you’re all alone tonight, and don’t email any CEOs to tell them what you think of them.”

  I was never going to live that down. “I have a job again, don’t I?”

  She shook her head. “No idea how that managed to work out.”

  Yeah. Me either.

  ***

  “Great show today, Ireland.”

  “Thanks, Mike.”

  My first day back on the air in two weeks felt good, and my adrenaline was already pumping to get started on tomorrow’s show. I had a renewed sense of pride in my work.

  Siren poked her head into my office. She looked nervous. “Hey. So I wanted to clear the air. I hope you know I had nothing to do with Bickman giving me your job. I was shocked when he came to tell me he was promoting me.”

  I could have pretended I believed her bullshit and gone back to the two of us playing ignorant, but she was young and needed someone to set her straight.

  “Come in, Siren. Close the door behind you.”

  She did, but stood right in front of the door.

  I motioned to the chairs on the other side of my desk. “Please, take a seat.”

  The poor thing looked pale. She’d played up to Bickman, and I’m sure she’d been thrilled when he handed her my job on a silver platter. But the bottom line was he’d abused his position, and really, she hadn’t done anything wrong…except maybe break girl code.

  I sighed. “Most people think a beautiful woman doesn’t have to work as hard to get what she wants. And that might be true when she’s at a bar trying to get a drink, or when she’s in Home Depot trying to find someone to help her down the plumbing aisle. But it’s not true in the workplace. A beautiful woman often has to work twice as hard to be seen for who she is here. Because, unfortunately, there are still men out there who can’t see past beauty. I think you’re going to be a great reporter someday. But you’re not there yet. I wasn’t at your age either. And when you play into men like Bickman, and take a position you haven’t earned, you devalue yourself and all women. We need to stick together, not use beauty as a weapon against each other.”

  Siren looked down at her lap for a long time. When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes and nodded. “You’re right. It didn’t feel right when he gave me the job. It felt like I hadn’t earned it…because I didn’t.”

  “I’m not going to pretend I’m totally innocent. You know the mailroom won’t ship anything they receive after three o’clock until the following day. I’ve thrown my share of smiles and batted my damn eyelashes at George to get things out at four thirty. But be careful around men in positions of power who give you something you didn’t earn—they’re going to expect you to earn it after the fact, in a way you won’t like.”

  “Thanks, Ireland.”

  “Anytime.”

  An hour later, my desk phone rang, and the name on the caller ID surprised me. Speaking of men in power…Grant Lexington flashed on the display. I shut my laptop and leaned back in my chair as I picked up the phone. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I was just calling to see how things were going—that you settled back in okay.” His deep voice was even raspier on the phone than in person. Despite the lecture I’d given Siren earlier, here I was thinking Hmmm…I’d like to hear that voice late at night when my hands are under the covers.

  I tamped down that thought and instead went with being difficult. “Did you call any other employees that don’t work directly for you today?”

  “Only the ones that sent me drunk emails, and I stupidly gave them back their jobs anyway.”

  I smiled. “Touché.”

  “How are things going?”

  “Fine. No one seems too disappointed that Bickman is gone, and the show went off without a hitch this morning.”

  “It was a good show.”

  “You watched?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you always watch the six o’clock news?”

  “Not normally, no.”

  “So you watched it today because…”

  The line went silent; he wasn’t going to fill in the blank for me. Hmm… Interesting. He could have easily said he watched it to make sure things went smoothly. Or he watched it because he’s the damn boss, and he felt like it. But his lack of a reason made me think he’d watched it just to watch me—and not for professional reasons.

  Or maybe I was reading too much into things and that’s what I wanted to think.

  “Anyway…” he said. “I was also calling to invite you to be part of a new committee I’m chairing.”

  “Oh? What kind of committee?”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s…uh…for improving the workplace for women.”

  “You’re chairing a women’s workplace initiative?”

  “Yes. Why does that surprise you?”

  “Ummm… Because you’re not a woman.”

  “That’s a pretty sexist statement. Are you saying a
man can’t be involved with something to foster a better work environment for women?”

  “No, but—”

  “If you’re too busy…”

  “No, no, no. Not at all. I’d love to be part of it. What can I do? When does the committee meet?”

  “My assistant will get back to you with the details.”

  “Oh. Okay. That sounds great. Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “Yes. Alright. Well, then...goodbye, Ireland.”

  He hung up sort of abruptly. But it was just as well, because I liked talking to him way too much.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  Grant

  “Millie!” I shouted without getting up from my desk.

  My assistant rushed into the office. “Yes, Mr. Lexington?”

  “I need to start a new committee.”

  Her brows knitted. I avoided committees like the plague, and here I was telling her I wanted to start one. “Okay…what kind of committee, and who will be involved?”

  I shook my head and grumbled the answer. “The focus of the group is to improve the workplace for women.”

  Millie’s eyebrows jumped.

  Yeah. I know. I’m fucking shocked, too.

  “Okay...” she said hesitantly, like she was waiting for the punch line. “Do you have committee members already picked out?”

  I waved my hand. “Get a bunch of women. I don’t care who they are. And maybe my sister Kate. She loves to have meetings.”

  “You don’t care who the women on the committee are?”

  “No.” I picked up a pile of papers and shuffled them, trying to pull off casual. “Maybe invite Ireland Saint James to be part of it.”

  “Ireland? The woman who sent you the decapitated flowers?”

  Well, when she said it like that, it sounded a little nuts to create a committee out of thin air and invite someone who cut the heads off of the expensive flowers I sent her and walked out on our lunch date before we’d even ordered.

  I sighed. “Yeah, her.”

  “When would you like me…”

  “Soon.”

  “Do you have an agenda in mind for this committee’s first meeting?”