Dolls
.”
Abandoning her pose, Shelley folded her arms across her chest. “Are you finished with ‘name that movie’? I’d like to get started.”
His eyes twinkled. They were bright blue and filled with amusement, damn him.
She waited for him to wipe the smile off his face.
“You asked me to be here and I’m here,” she said, her tone imperious, but not Elizabethan.
“Yes, and on time, too. I’m stunned.”
She ignored the jibe. “I’m here because it’s obvious that we need to clear the air.”
He nodded, but didn’t comment.
“We both know you don’t want me around. Well, I don’t want
you
around, either. In fact, I absolutely loathe the way you’ve horned in on my family’s business.”
So much for her problem with being direct. Too bad Howard Mellnick wasn’t around to witness her breakthrough.
Ross folded his arms across his chest. He was so calm she wondered if he’d missed the part where she told him she wished he’d get lost.
“Funny that you call it horning in,” he finally said. “I call it doing my job. Earning my paycheck. Showing up and putting forth effort. If you’d done a little more of that, there might not have been an opening to horn into.”
Shelley bit back a retort and tried to imitate his maddening calm. “You don’t know anything about my family’s dynamics. Or me. It’s not as clear-cut as you seem to think.”
“No,” he agreed. “I don’t know your history.” He paused. “Or why your father’s let you get away with this spoiled princess business for so long. How old are you now? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”
She gasped.
“Well, however old you are, you’re old enough to pull your weight.”
She had a horrible feeling he was going to guess her weight next. Instead, he stood and walked around to stand between her and his desk. “Fortunately, we’re not family. And we don’t have any dynamics to speak of.”
Except, of course, that dynamic episode in the supply closet. “Thank God for small favors.”
“So we’re talking business here.” He gave her a look. “And personal pride.”
Her head snapped up. “Which you seem to think I’m lacking.”
“I can understand your anger and hostility, even though I think a lot of this situation is of your own making.” His reasonable tone was sending her right up the wall. “If you don’t feel like we can work together, I’ll understand.”
There was a wonderful moment in which she thought he was going to bow out. He reached across his desk and picked up a typewritten piece of paper. “In fact, I took the liberty of drafting a resignation letter.”
Her heart leapt at this piece of good news. He
was
going to step aside. Maybe he wasn’t as big a schmuck as she’d thought; maybe she’d misjudged him.
Ross passed her the letter and she skimmed it, curious to see what kind of excuse he’d come up with. Then she reached the signature line. “You want
me
to resign?”
He handed her a pen. “It would make things a lot easier for both of us.”
She considered doing a little palm-cupped wave right now. With her middle finger clearly extended. “Let’s see,” she said, still mimicking his dead-calm tone. “You’ve insulted my dress, my manner, my age,
possibly
my weight, my family, and my work ethic. And now I’m supposed to sign this paper so you can have the place all to yourself?” Sitting back in her chair, she folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He studied her right back and then reached across his desk to retrieve another piece of paper. “All right, then,” he said, still calm. “Here’s a list of clients. I want you to contact all of them, introduce yourself, and start setting up appointments.” He handed her the sheet of paper. “These are underserviced accounts that could produce a much greater revenue stream.”
“But I’m an account
supervisor.
I don’t service clients directly.”
“Actually, you haven’t serviced
.”
Abandoning her pose, Shelley folded her arms across her chest. “Are you finished with ‘name that movie’? I’d like to get started.”
His eyes twinkled. They were bright blue and filled with amusement, damn him.
She waited for him to wipe the smile off his face.
“You asked me to be here and I’m here,” she said, her tone imperious, but not Elizabethan.
“Yes, and on time, too. I’m stunned.”
She ignored the jibe. “I’m here because it’s obvious that we need to clear the air.”
He nodded, but didn’t comment.
“We both know you don’t want me around. Well, I don’t want
you
around, either. In fact, I absolutely loathe the way you’ve horned in on my family’s business.”
So much for her problem with being direct. Too bad Howard Mellnick wasn’t around to witness her breakthrough.
Ross folded his arms across his chest. He was so calm she wondered if he’d missed the part where she told him she wished he’d get lost.
“Funny that you call it horning in,” he finally said. “I call it doing my job. Earning my paycheck. Showing up and putting forth effort. If you’d done a little more of that, there might not have been an opening to horn into.”
Shelley bit back a retort and tried to imitate his maddening calm. “You don’t know anything about my family’s dynamics. Or me. It’s not as clear-cut as you seem to think.”
“No,” he agreed. “I don’t know your history.” He paused. “Or why your father’s let you get away with this spoiled princess business for so long. How old are you now? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”
She gasped.
“Well, however old you are, you’re old enough to pull your weight.”
She had a horrible feeling he was going to guess her weight next. Instead, he stood and walked around to stand between her and his desk. “Fortunately, we’re not family. And we don’t have any dynamics to speak of.”
Except, of course, that dynamic episode in the supply closet. “Thank God for small favors.”
“So we’re talking business here.” He gave her a look. “And personal pride.”
Her head snapped up. “Which you seem to think I’m lacking.”
“I can understand your anger and hostility, even though I think a lot of this situation is of your own making.” His reasonable tone was sending her right up the wall. “If you don’t feel like we can work together, I’ll understand.”
There was a wonderful moment in which she thought he was going to bow out. He reached across his desk and picked up a typewritten piece of paper. “In fact, I took the liberty of drafting a resignation letter.”
Her heart leapt at this piece of good news. He
was
going to step aside. Maybe he wasn’t as big a schmuck as she’d thought; maybe she’d misjudged him.
Ross passed her the letter and she skimmed it, curious to see what kind of excuse he’d come up with. Then she reached the signature line. “You want
me
to resign?”
He handed her a pen. “It would make things a lot easier for both of us.”
She considered doing a little palm-cupped wave right now. With her middle finger clearly extended. “Let’s see,” she said, still mimicking his dead-calm tone. “You’ve insulted my dress, my manner, my age,
possibly
my weight, my family, and my work ethic. And now I’m supposed to sign this paper so you can have the place all to yourself?” Sitting back in her chair, she folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He studied her right back and then reached across his desk to retrieve another piece of paper. “All right, then,” he said, still calm. “Here’s a list of clients. I want you to contact all of them, introduce yourself, and start setting up appointments.” He handed her the sheet of paper. “These are underserviced accounts that could produce a much greater revenue stream.”
“But I’m an account
supervisor.
I don’t service clients directly.”
“Actually, you haven’t serviced
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