Caroselli's Baby Chase. Michelle Celmer

a minute to catch my breath.”

      He shoved his phone back in his pocket and zipped his pants. “Now do you see what I mean?”

      “That you have pitiful lack of self-control?” Carrie said, straightening her jacket and smoothing the wrinkles from a skirt six inches too long for her height. “I definitely noticed that.”

      “I didn’t see you trying to stop me.”

      She looked up at him, her lipstick kissed away, a stubborn tilt to her chin. “You enjoy being right, don’t you?”

      “Not always.” Not this time. They had chemistry, but that was about it. With fifteen million dollars riding on his choice, she was the exact opposite of what he was looking for in a woman. Not only did he consider her the enemy, but she’d said herself that she had intimacy issues, and she had never been in a serious relationship. Rob needed a woman with baby fever, someone to marry and pop out a male heir. She wasn’t it, and having her around to tempt him would only make a difficult situation that much more tense.

      “So, have I made my point?” he asked Carrie.

      “You certainly have,” she said. “We should get back to the conference room.”

      They walked side by side down the corridor, an uncomfortable silence building a wedge between them. There was nothing left to say. It had been fun, and now it was over. She would go back to California, and he and his team would work out a plan to beef up sales. And hopefully, sooner rather than later, he would find a woman to give him a son, and everyone would be happy.

      The conference room was silent as they stepped inside. Carrie took her seat, and Rob returned to his.

      “Sorry to make you wait,” his dad told her.

      “I completely understand,” she said.

      Rob waited for her to break the bad news, but she just sat there.

      “After going over the final numbers,” his uncle Leo said, “we’re pleased to tell you that we agree to your terms and we would like you to start first thing next Monday morning.”

      Rob waited for the big letdown, wondered how everyone would take her turning down their offer.

      “I don’t come cheap,” she said, then looked directly at Rob. “But I don’t disappoint.”

      She may as well have drawn her sword and challenged him to a duel. And clearly she had only been humoring him. She had never intended to turn down the assignment.

      If that was really the way she wanted to play this, fine.

      You want a fight, sweetheart? Well, now you’ve got one.

      Three

      After the contracts were signed, everyone filed out of the conference room, shaking Carrie’s hand, congratulating her and welcoming her to the company. Rob watched, gathering the binders—a task typically left for an assistant—growing increasingly impatient as Elana stopped to admire Carrie’s briefcase of all things, and they launched into a conversation about women’s purses and accessories. When he’d run out of ways to stall, he flat-out asked Elana, “Could I have a minute with Ms. Taylor?”

      Flashing him a knowing look and a wry smile, Elana said, “Sure, Robby. See you Monday, Carrie.”

      Elana knew that there was no faster way to irritate him than to address him by his childhood nickname. The first half of it anyway. It had been years since anyone dare uttered the phrase that had been the bane of his existence from kindergarten to his first year of college.

      She left, closing the door behind her, and Rob turned to Carrie, who was sliding papers into her briefcase.

      “Well?” he said.

      She closed the case and smiled up at him. “Something wrong…Robby?”

      That was it—Elana was dead meat. “Why did you lie to me?”

      She smiled, the picture of innocence. “When did I lie to you?”

      “We agreed that in light of what happened, working together would be a bad idea.”

      “No, you said working together would be bad, and I commented on how you enjoy being right. I never said you were right.”

      “So you were just screwing with me?”

      She propped her hands on the conference table, leaning in. “Not unlike the way you were screwing with me.”

      She definitely had him there. And he had best be going, before he told her what he really thought of her. “I’ll see you Monday.”

      She smiled brightly. “Sure thing, Robby. Oh, and by the way, the first step will be analyzing your marketing data. I’ll need a few things from you.”

      Gathering his patience, he said, “All right.”

      “I’ll need all the data you have for the past twenty years.”

      He blinked. “Twenty years?”

      “That’s right.”

      He wondered if she really needed to go that far back, or if she was trying to make his life a living hell. Probably the latter, and could he blame her if she was? But that, she should realize, was a two-way street.

      “It could take some time to compile everything. We’ve been in the process of digitizing our older files. Some of it might still be in hard copy.”

      “That’s fine. Just have it on my desk Monday morning.”

      “If you hadn’t noticed, there’s no one here. Everyone is on holiday vacation until Monday.”

      “Well,” she said, the sweet smile not wavering a fraction. “Who better to do it than the director himself. Which reminds me, I’ll need you available, and at my disposal at all times in case I have any questions.”

      Gritting his teeth, he nodded, then turned and walked to the door.

      “Hey, Robby?”

      Jaw tense, he turned back to her.

      “I’m not the enemy. This will be as productive or as difficult as you make it. I think you’ll find that I can be very pleasant to work with.”

      “So I noticed,” he said, his eyes raking over her. “Will we be meeting for a quickie in my office daily, or just once or twice a week?” He didn’t even like her, but his libido didn’t seem to notice or care. It was telling him to rip that shapeless, ugly suit from her body, to pluck the pins from her granny hairstyle so he could watch her silky blond curls cascade down her shoulders.

      She sighed and shook her head, as if she felt sorry for him. “Robby, is that the best you can do? You think I haven’t heard worse? During the course of my career I’ve been called sweetie and sugar and pumpkin. I’ve been groped and fondled, objectified and demoralized. I’ve seen it all, and in the end I always get the job done, and I manage to do it with dignity.”

      She slung her case strap over her shoulder and said, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you think you’d like to take me on, by all means give it your best shot. But I should warn you, I always get what I want, and I’m not above fighting dirty.”

      He should have anticipated that. No one got as far as she had in the business world without being tough as nails. And shame on him for underestimating her.

      She walked out, the heels of her shoes clicking as she marched down the hall. He had no plan to demoralize or objectify her, or to call her condescending names. And the only physical contact they might have would be totally at her discretion. He had every intention of treating her with the utmost respect, because he didn’t doubt that she had earned it. His cooperation, however, was another matter altogether.

      Rob walked to his office and sat down at his computer to send his staff and his secretary