your contribution was I’ll tell him you didn’t make one. How’s that sound?”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just be quiet about it.”
Mark stomped over to his desk and slammed the coffee down. Forget quiet. He was going to work the way he always did. With music blaring.
Seconds later, the discordant sounds of a heavy metal guitar filled the room.
She glared at him, then reached into her drawer and pulled out a pair of headphones.
He loaded up his photo editing program to look at the images he’d already created, but the glare from the overhead lights was killing him. He got up and flipped the lights off. He’d hardly even sat down before she was turning them back on.
“Do you mind?” he said. “I can’t work with all that glare.”
“Well, I can’t write if I can’t see the keys,” she said,
“Come sit by the window,” he said.
“Go work in a cave,” she retorted.
He sighed. “Fine. Have it your way. It’s not worth fighting about.”
She huffed and put her headphones back on.
Mark turned to his computer to get started, but his mind refused to cooperate.
Maybe looking at the existing boards would help. He grabbed the pile from where it lay by the office door and spread the boards out on the plush red carpet, laying the two campaigns side by side.
Then he began to pace back and forth down the line, looking for common ground.
They both featured strong women. And used humor. Maybe...
Becky sighed angrily. “Really? Are you going to pace all day? Because it’s really distracting.”
He turned to look at her. She was standing with her hands on her hips, completely unaware of how ridiculously her angry expression contrasted with the giant happy face emblazoned on her oversize T-shirt.
Unbidden, the image of her standing in exactly that position, laughing and naked except for a pair of cheetah-print heels, rose to the front of his brain. How could that free spirit belong to this completely aggravating woman? There had to be a way to get past her anger.
Suddenly he had an idea. Grabbing his jacket, he turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Out,” he said. “See you later.”
“But what about—?”
“We can’t work together like this. So I’m leaving,” he said, shutting the door before she could see the smile on his face.
That would give her something to stew about.
* * *
Becky stared openmouthed at the shut door.
Her so-called partner had bailed on her. Now what was she supposed to do? True, she hadn’t exactly been welcoming, but that didn’t give him the right to just quit.
Of course if he didn’t come back the promotion would be hers by default. At least it would if she could find the brilliant idea that would allow her to win the competition.
And she had to win this. She didn’t even care about the promotion so much anymore. She just wanted to kick Pence’s pompous ass.
Sighing, she collapsed into her chair and put her head in her hands.
If only Mark wasn’t so damn hot. Just being in the same room with him made her think inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts of unbuttoning the faded blue shirt he’d been wearing and licking his chest. Of sliding her hand down the front of his jeans. Of letting him roll down her leggings and take her—right on top of the desk.
She was sorely tempted to do just that. To scratch the itch and move on. After all, she was an empowered, independent woman. Why shouldn’t she take what she wanted when he obviously wanted it, too?
Because once would never be enough, that was why. And she knew better than to get involved with a coworker— even a temporary one—ever again.
If sex was out, there was only one thing to do. Work.
An hour later she was still typing indecipherable garbage when the door opened. Mark walked in, carrying a giant F.A.O. Schwartz bag. Trying hard not to feel relieved, she looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“You went to the toy store?”
“Yep.”
He waltzed over to his desk and
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just be quiet about it.”
Mark stomped over to his desk and slammed the coffee down. Forget quiet. He was going to work the way he always did. With music blaring.
Seconds later, the discordant sounds of a heavy metal guitar filled the room.
She glared at him, then reached into her drawer and pulled out a pair of headphones.
He loaded up his photo editing program to look at the images he’d already created, but the glare from the overhead lights was killing him. He got up and flipped the lights off. He’d hardly even sat down before she was turning them back on.
“Do you mind?” he said. “I can’t work with all that glare.”
“Well, I can’t write if I can’t see the keys,” she said,
“Come sit by the window,” he said.
“Go work in a cave,” she retorted.
He sighed. “Fine. Have it your way. It’s not worth fighting about.”
She huffed and put her headphones back on.
Mark turned to his computer to get started, but his mind refused to cooperate.
Maybe looking at the existing boards would help. He grabbed the pile from where it lay by the office door and spread the boards out on the plush red carpet, laying the two campaigns side by side.
Then he began to pace back and forth down the line, looking for common ground.
They both featured strong women. And used humor. Maybe...
Becky sighed angrily. “Really? Are you going to pace all day? Because it’s really distracting.”
He turned to look at her. She was standing with her hands on her hips, completely unaware of how ridiculously her angry expression contrasted with the giant happy face emblazoned on her oversize T-shirt.
Unbidden, the image of her standing in exactly that position, laughing and naked except for a pair of cheetah-print heels, rose to the front of his brain. How could that free spirit belong to this completely aggravating woman? There had to be a way to get past her anger.
Suddenly he had an idea. Grabbing his jacket, he turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Out,” he said. “See you later.”
“But what about—?”
“We can’t work together like this. So I’m leaving,” he said, shutting the door before she could see the smile on his face.
That would give her something to stew about.
* * *
Becky stared openmouthed at the shut door.
Her so-called partner had bailed on her. Now what was she supposed to do? True, she hadn’t exactly been welcoming, but that didn’t give him the right to just quit.
Of course if he didn’t come back the promotion would be hers by default. At least it would if she could find the brilliant idea that would allow her to win the competition.
And she had to win this. She didn’t even care about the promotion so much anymore. She just wanted to kick Pence’s pompous ass.
Sighing, she collapsed into her chair and put her head in her hands.
If only Mark wasn’t so damn hot. Just being in the same room with him made her think inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts of unbuttoning the faded blue shirt he’d been wearing and licking his chest. Of sliding her hand down the front of his jeans. Of letting him roll down her leggings and take her—right on top of the desk.
She was sorely tempted to do just that. To scratch the itch and move on. After all, she was an empowered, independent woman. Why shouldn’t she take what she wanted when he obviously wanted it, too?
Because once would never be enough, that was why. And she knew better than to get involved with a coworker— even a temporary one—ever again.
If sex was out, there was only one thing to do. Work.
An hour later she was still typing indecipherable garbage when the door opened. Mark walked in, carrying a giant F.A.O. Schwartz bag. Trying hard not to feel relieved, she looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“You went to the toy store?”
“Yep.”
He waltzed over to his desk and
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