Something's Gotta Give. Teresa Southwick

      “Okay. I get it,” he said. “You’re not crazy about the situation. News flash, neither am I. But we’re stuck with each other. The way I see it, things will go more smoothly if you follow some ground rules for the next thirty days.”

      “Twenty-nine,” she snapped.

      “I haven’t been on the job a full day yet.”

      Although he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to split hairs about that. The sooner he could get out of this town, the better.

      “I don’t particularly like your alpha-male, I’m-in-charge attitude.”

      “Meaning?”

      “You can list ground rules from now until hell freezes over, but I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do.”

      He decided not to argue that because she would find he was in charge. “I’m driving you to and from work. You clear your schedule with me and I always know where you are. Is that clear?”

      “I understand the words, if that’s what you mean.”

      “If you go to the ladies’ room to put on lipstick, I want to know about it.”

      The stubbornness glittering in her eyes did amazing things to her particular shade of hazel. The obstinate expression canceled out the brown and gold and turned them to bright green. And beautiful. A man could lose himself in those angry eyes. He needed to avoid ticking her off, but somehow he didn’t think she was the “go quietly” type.

      She stared up at him. “Those rules strike me as overkill given that the calls have stopped.”

      “Your folks should get their money’s worth.”

      “Unfortunately for you, they turned you loose on me and here are my rules. Assuming you actually stick around, you’re not to interfere at work. No meddling in my personal life—”

      “I’ll need to check out your boyfriend—”

      “I don’t have one,” she said, her chin lifting a fraction.

      What about Al, he wanted to ask. Instead he said, “Something wrong with the guys in Charity City?”

      But he could answer his own question. Because his fist had a close encounter with Bo Taggart’s nose, he was stuck with Jamie. In his opinion, there was definitely something wrong with the Charity City men.

      “I’m sure there are some perfectly nice men in this town, but since I’m not interested in a relationship, I wouldn’t know from firsthand experience.” Her mouth pulled tight for a moment. “And remarks like that are exactly what I mean about not interfering. You need to be inconspicuous. No editorializing. Seen and not heard.”

      “Like a kid?”

      “Hardly. You’re no child. The deep voice and five-o’clock shadow are big clues.” She huffed out a breath. “But I’m serious. If you insist on being underfoot, you can’t disrupt my place of employment.”

      “No problem. At the office you’re surrounded by the other lawyers—circling.” Including Al. Jeez, he really didn’t like that guy. And her frown told him she hadn’t missed his deliberate, pointed pause. It was a not-so-subtle reference to the sharks that he believed attorneys to be. “You won’t even know I’m there.” When she rolled her eyes, he decided to let it slide. They were going to butt heads until this was over, and convincing her he could blend into her world wasn’t a hill he wanted to die on today. “But your personal life is not hands off. In fact, no part of your life can be off-limits.”