One Hot Winter

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One Hot Winter Page 3

by Weston Parker


  “I've put in eight hours. The rest of the office is clearing out. I don't remember seeing anything in my contract that required me to work overtime. I am paid by the job. That doesn't mean I work all day until it’s done. I have a deadline, and my work will be completed by that deadline.”

  I stood up, not liking the way she looked down on me. “I think you forget I am the one who holds the purse strings here. You only get paid if I’m satisfied with the work. At this point, I am not satisfied. I would like you to stay until we figure out this first section.”

  She glared at me before spitting out the word. “Fine.”

  “Good. Let's get this done, shall we?” I asked, taking my seat but undoing the top button on my shirt and loosening my tie. It was after hours, and the woman was making me hot, literally and physically. The tension in the air made it difficult to breathe.

  “I'll grab my laptop,” she said, leaving the doorway in a huff.

  She came back in, sat down across from me, opened her laptop and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

  I smirked but didn't acknowledge her abruptness. She was sitting here supposedly against her will, but I had a feeling this woman never did anything she didn't want to. She was putting up a good fight, but if she really didn't want to stay, she could have left. We both knew that.

  We worked for another hour before I had to call mercy. Her perfume was making me crazy. I wanted to smell it up close and personal where I knew it was likely dabbed behind her ears. She had taken her hair out of the ponytail, and it was falling loosely around her face. She unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on her blouse as well.

  It was very casual and incredibly sexy. It was difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Arianna was a challenging woman, and it intrigued me. I wanted to see the woman behind that mask of hostility. Most women were far too eager to please me. They didn't challenge me. It usually ended up boring me, and I would move on to my next conquest. It was too easy, but this woman, I knew she was not like the rest.

  I had a strict policy about banging secretaries and coworkers, but technically, Arianna didn't work for the company. It gave me the freedom to fantasize without the guilt, and I was taking full advantage of that fact.

  “Hello?” she said, cutting through my thoughts with a voice that was too stern to be sexy. Or at least it should have been, but my brain and body felt otherwise. Her authoritative tone of voice was making me grow harder. I had to shift in my chair to keep my dick from pressing against my zipper to the point it hurt.

  It became clear I may have made a mistake being alone with her.

  Chapter 5

  Arianna

  Something was seriously wrong with me. I must be a sadist. A glutton for punishment. This man was an awful human, but for some reason, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I could think of nothing else but him naked and hovering over me while his mouth moved over my naked body.

  My dream from last night was haunting me. I couldn't get the images of him making love to me out of my head. Although it had never happened, it felt incredibly real. I could smell him on me. Every time he looked at me, I was convinced he somehow knew about my fantasy. He was teasing me, making me sit here beside him, working in a quiet office. I knew we were completely alone, and it made it that much harder for me to control my lust. I could smell his cologne. I knew it instantly. Versace Eros. I had been shopping for a new perfume when Jody and I found ourselves browsing the men's cologne, and both of us had fallen in love with the scent.

  It was strong, powerful, and masculine like him. Unlike him, it wasn't overbearing. It was the perfect combination of light and airy mingled with hot and dirty sex.

  “Well?” he asked, irritation obvious in his voice.

  “Well, what?” I asked, feeling just as irritated.

  I had drifted off into my own little fantasy world while he was talking and had no idea what he wanted now. I didn't appreciate being yanked out of my happy place, even if he was there.

  “Do you agree with the change of wording in the first sentence?”

  I grabbed the paper he was holding and read it. “Fine, whatever,” I grumbled.

  There was no way I was going to be able to work like this. I couldn't concentrate. My thoughts were all over the place, and none of them had anything to do with the actual work. I was too busy thinking about things like whether he had tattoos or if he was tan all over. Was he a gentle or demanding lover? I was leaning toward the latter, but maybe this was all a big show. Maybe he was a big marshmallow on the inside.

  He glowered at me. “If it isn't fine, then you need to say that. I am paying you to write this, but it seems as if I’m doing all the thinking. I can type as good as the next guy. Are you sure you’re up for this project? If I am going to be doing the brunt of the work, I really don't need you here, do I?”

  I took a deep breath. I couldn't lose my temper. Murder would land me in prison. I had to remind myself of that repeatedly.

  I cleared my throat. “If you'll remember, I had a perfectly good intro before you butchered it. Look at your edits,” I said before I started flipping through files on my laptop with my mouse. “Now, look at my first version. See anything familiar?”

  If he denied the phrasing was slightly different but the message had been exactly the same, I would scream. He was using exactly what I had written but changed around a few words and claimed it was his idea.

  “It isn't the same,” he said, petulantly.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Is there a reason you feel the need to be so condescending? Do you have a problem working with me, or is it women in general?” I blurted out the words before I had time to run them through a filter. It was one of my character flaws. I could admit it.

  Once they passed my lips, I knew I had crossed a line. The expression on his face told me as much. His jaw set in a hard line. His blue eyes narrowed, and his thick, dark brows furrowed. The stubble on his face made him look dangerous instead of sexy.

  “I have a problem working with people who don't produce the quality they promise,” he gritted out as if he was in pain.

  “I produce only the best. I guess maybe we need to clarify our roles here. I am the writer. You are the manager. Did you get your start in this business writing?” I asked in a syrupy sweet voice.

  “No, but that doesn't mean I don't know what sells product. I’m in my position because I’m very good at my job, and I know good quality when I see it,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

  I scoffed. “Obviously not.”

  He looked at me, danger in his eyes, but I didn't back down.

  “I think we should call it a day, don't you?” I offered, recognizing both of us had our hackles up, and neither of us was the type to back down.

  He didn't say a word. He stared at me as if he were deciding which part of my body to devour first. I wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing. It made me feel all tingly, but it could also be that sixth sense telling me to run the other way. The fight or flight response. My wires were getting crossed. The man had a way of messing with my head.

  Nervous energy suddenly made me jumpy. “This isn't productive. We'll go home, think on it, and tomorrow, we’ll go at it with fresh eyes. Okay?”

  I didn't realize I was slowly backing away from him until I hit the chair I’d been sitting in before I’d stepped toward the desk to point out the initial copy.

  “Fine,” he said, slamming his laptop closed, standing as he did. My eyes went to his laptop but were immediately drawn to his crotch. I wondered if my imagination had been accurate. If I wasn't mistaken, the man had a very healthy bulge. My mouth went dry thinking about the man sporting an erection. I fought the urge to reach out and touch him. I wanted to feel the weight in my hand.

  Shit! What the hell was I doing?

  “I hope you saved that,” I shot out, my eyes widening as I realized I had actually said it aloud.

  “I guess it doesn't matter if it is garbage, right?” he fired back, his v
oice rising.

  “I don't write garbage,” I spat.

  He raised an eyebrow. It was a sarcastic gesture. As if to insinuate I had written something unacceptable.

  I nodded. “Okay, well, I'm going to go now.”

  In one swift move, I grabbed my laptop and practically ran for the door. He unnerved me. I couldn't be alone with him for another minute. My mind and body had very different ideas about what we wanted to happen. My body was craving his touch, but my mind was telling me to get the hell away from the asshole before he insulted me any further.

  Once I made it to the safety of my desk, I took several deep breaths. My heart was racing, my stomach felt like molten lava, and my pussy tingled. I was fighting back arousal. How could I be so attracted to a man who was so rude?

  My breathing slowed down to a normal rate, and I packed up my things before practically running out of the office. I had to put some distance between us. The man was causing me to unravel. I couldn't believe I had let him get to me like that. I wasn't a weak woman, but he made me feel something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

  The safety and solitude of my apartment were very welcomed after my time in the office with Carter. As I sat on my couch replaying the events of the past couple of hours, I came to an alarming conclusion. I liked it. Him. I liked being alone with him, ratcheting up that tension that I knew both of us felt. We had this crazy dislike for one another that was so passionate, it spurred other feelings and desires.

  I wanted him. I know it was completely unprofessional, and neither one of us would dare act on what we were feeling, but it was there. That was undeniable. I had never felt such a strong dislike toward a person while feeling such desire. The contradicting emotions were making me feel edgy. I needed to take the edge off. I wasn't sure how to do that, but I had to do something before I acted on my desires to jump the man.

  Tomorrow, I would try harder. I wouldn't let him get under my skin. I would pretend he was an ugly old man. Ha! As if that would work when he was looking at me with those piercing blue eyes that saw too much.

  Chapter 6

  Carter

  I had backed off the temp after the evening in my office. It had proven to be too much for me. I wanted her, and I wasn't sure I could stop myself from taking her if we were alone again. Hell, I wanted her right now. The only thing stopping me was the fact the office was bustling with people. We were all in a time crunch, none of us wanting to work on Christmas Eve if we didn't have to. We had to get this campaign done.

  And that is what had me in a mood now. I didn't follow up with Arianna yesterday, giving her the benefit of the doubt, hoping she would prove me wrong and present me with some magnificent bit of copy that blew my socks off.

  It didn't happen. I had barely seen her yesterday, and it was after lunch today and still nothing. I hated waiting. I hated feeling like I was under the gun and nobody else was feeling my stress. It made me cranky.

  “Ms. Clark?” I buzzed her at her desk.

  I knew she could hear me. I heard my voice echo in the space where the cubicles were all positioned beyond my office door.

  I waited. “Ms. Clark!” I said louder and with urgency in my voice.

  “Yes, Mr. Frasier,” her terse reply floated around my office.

  “I need to see you, please.” I added the last word because I knew others could hear me.

  Within a few minutes, she was standing in my doorway. “Yes?” she asked, clearly not happy to be called in.

  “Come in. Shut the door behind you,” I barked.

  She hesitated as if she would defy me but then shut it anyway.

  She sat down and looked at me, waiting for me to speak. I considered offering some pleasantries but knew it would be wasted. I didn't feel it, and she clearly didn't want to hear it.

  “Where's the update? I expected an update yesterday and got nothing. And I have nothing so far today. What's going on?” I growled.

  She sighed. “Look, I understand you have a certain way of doing things. That isn't my way. I have never missed a deadline, and I assure you, I will not miss this one. I still have time. I'm not sure what you’re so worked up about.”

  I could feel my eyes widen in disbelief. “What? Seriously? You don't know what I'm worked up about? I told you what I expected. Period.”

  She shrugged. “Well, when I was hired, I was given a deadline. I will make the deadline. The extra stuff you think you can add after the fact isn't going to fly with me. Sorry. Like I told you before, I've done this many times. I have never had a dissatisfied client, and I don't intend to start now.”

  My mouth opened and closed. I felt like a fish out of water gasping for breath.

  “If that's all,” she said standing. “I have work to do.”

  “Sit down!” I bellowed far louder than I intended.

  She turned to look at me. “Excuse me? I am not a dog. You will not order me around like that.”

  “Listen, I can fire you as easily as I hired you. I am asking you to sit down, so we can work this out,” I said, doing my best to talk in a calm voice but knowing I was failing.

  Her hands went to her hips. I knew what that meant. My mother got the same look when she was about to lay into me for something I had done.

  “I will not. And if you want to fire me, that's fine, but you will pay me what I’m owed, which is the fee for the job.”

  “No, I won't,” I said, jumping out of my chair and sending it flying back against the wall.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You are the most difficult man I have ever had the displeasure to work with. Now, I have work to do, and we already know how much you pinch pennies. You aren't going to pay me my full contract and then pay someone else.”

  “I will if it means I don't have to work with you.”

  “You're bluffing,” she said before turning and yanking open the door and slamming it behind her.

  I stood there, debating whether to chase after her or not. I stalked to the door, opened it, and slammed it in frustration.

  I was losing my cool. I didn't let people get under my skin, but she was. She was turning me into a wild animal. After pacing my office for a few minutes, I grabbed my cell from my desk and called Derek.

  “Talk me down,” I said, without greeting him. “Talk me out of strangling that woman until she turns blue!”

  His deep, baritone laugh told me he heard me. “Relax. What happened?”

  I quickly filled him in on my trouble with Arianna. He silently listened, stopping me on occasion to ask pertinent questions.

  “Well?” I asked when I was done ranting.

  “She comes very highly recommended. I know who she is and her work. She is kind of a big deal in the advertising world. She is like the elusive unicorn. All the big agencies want her full time, but she refuses to accept any offers. She is all that and a bag of chips,” he joked.

  “I don't see how she's earned that reputation. The work I've seen this far is shit!”

  He laughed. “You know writers have their own way of doing things. Maybe you're being a little pushy?”

  “I am not,” I said, sounding like a child. “And she started it.”

  That earned another deep laugh from him. “I suggest you take a minute. Chill out. She is good, Carter. Our board has tried to recruit her on numerous occasions. I think you need to take a step back and let her do the work. If it's shit after she turns it in, then you can be upset.”

  “Dammit,” I mumbled. “I hate when you're all levelheaded.”

  “One of us has to be. I am hearing good things about your department, by the way,” he said in a serious tone. “You're making me look good.”

  I was the one laughing now. “Hey, anything I can do for you. Just don't forget the little guy when I pull off this campaign and skyrocket the company to the top in the advertising industry.”

  “Absolutely. The more money you earn in that department, the more I earn, and that always makes me happy,” he teased.

  “
All right, I guess I better go smooth things over. Things did not end well when she walked out of here,” I admitted, feeling a little ashamed about my actions.

  “Be nice. We don't want her going to the competition,” he reminded me.

  “I know, I know. Thanks for talking. I'll talk to you later,” I told him, ending the call.

  I took a deep breath. I knew what I had to do. I wasn't looking forward to eating crow or humble pie, but I had gone off the rails a bit. I owed her an apology. I stepped into my private bathroom, ran my fingers through my hair to tame it, and straightened up my tie. I wanted to look professional and not like the lunatic who had freaked out on her over nothing in particular.

 

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