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  "Why do you want to know?"

  "She doesn't make sense," Rodney said. "Everybody else here makes sense. You guys, the execs. I know about just about everyone in the building...except her. I don't like not knowing things."

  "Well, maybe you should just ask her, then."

  "Apparently I'll have to," he said, heading upstairs.

  He walked toward the reception desk, only to find Steve from marketing there already, leaning solicitously over the desk. "So, do you have plans for New Year's Eve?"

  "Yes, I do," she said, not looking up from her computer screen.

  "I'll bet." Steve seemed to miss the point. "Well, are you free tonight?"

  "No, I'm not. I have plans." If her words were any shorter and sharper, you could use them as ice picks.

  "Aw, c'mon." Steve put on what Rodney supposed was his winning smile. "I figured the first time you turned me down, it was for show. Playing hard to get. What will it take to get in with you, Blondie?"

  Guy had some balls on him, Rodney thought, using that "hard to get" cliché in this day and age. No brains to speak of, but definitely balls.

  The "Blondie" bit finally had her looking up, her clear gray eyes like frozen diamonds. "I know I've only been acting office manager for a few weeks, but I seem to remember there being a training session on sexual harassment. I'd be more than happy to send the slide deck to your email. And copy in the execs."

  Steve turned red, putting his hands up. "Hey, just being friendly. Wanted to, you know, welcome you to the office."

  "Consider me welcomed." Her face was harsh, like a Valkyrie's. Rodney was torn between wanting to applaud and being viciously turned on by her sheer ferocity.

  "I've heard you were a stone cold fox," he muttered. "Didn''t know you were a frigid snatch on top of it. You hate men or something?"

  "Because I said I'm not interested?" Her voice didn't rise, but something about it intensified. "Do you really want to do this, Steve? We both know what's in your personnel file. It's not like you can afford another infraction." She stared at him, one aristocratic eyebrow arched. "And if I find out you've bothered other women in the office the same way, I'll make sure you're not only fired, but you don't get a job anywhere else in Seattle."

  "What the hell?" he roared. "How do you think you'll manage that, bitch?"

  "Here, now!" Rodney said, finally stepping in. "Watch yourself."

  "Or what, you fag?"

  "Right. Out you go." Rodney moved to grab him, but Stacy stepped out from behind the desk, shoving him instead.

  "That does it," Stacy said. "It's obvious you've been drinking. You were already having issues, and I'm sure this'll be what pushed the exec committee to fire you. Get out. We'll have your desk contents sent to you, but you're out of here right now."

  "You're what, some dumb receptionist?" Steve squawked. "You can't fire me!"

  "I'm office manager here," she said. "Which means I deal with HR issues. Which means I looked at your file the second time you asked me out, after I told you I wasn't interested in very clear terms. I've already discussed it with Madge, who is your boss, even though she's out of the office right now. And I think, with a witness, what you've just done definitely merits termination. I'm betting you'll be fired by the end of the day."

  Steve turned several shades of color, from red to white to purple and back.

  "You--You--" His hands balled into angry fists.

  "Want to hit me and push this up to jail?" She actually took a step forward. "Try something. If you're surprised by getting fired, then you'll be downright shocked when I kick your ass, buddy."

  "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

  "I'm Stacy Fielder," she said sharply. "My family practically founded this valley. My father is on the board of several of the biggest tech firms in Seattle, and my mother is head of the Fielder Foundation--yeah, that one," she said, as Steve's face suddenly went pale again, this time in apparent recognition of just how deep the shit he was in truly was. "I'd start looking at new cities, Steve. Maybe new states. Because you choose the wrong 'Blondie' to bully into sleeping with you."

  Steve blustered his way out. She collapsed against the back of the desk.

  "Bloody hell," Rodney said, rushing to her. "Are you all right?"

  "Just another day at the office," she said, glancing at her watch. "Which reminds me...I've got to go. Need to get...ah, food. For a......meeting."

  "I'll do that." He paused, surprised at himself.

  She grinned. "No offense, but I've seen your car," she said, her voice regaining some strength. She still looked pale, though, even for her normal ivory skin tone. "I'm not even sure it'd make it back to the office."

  He grimaced. He wasn't about to explain that it wasn't his car. "Let me help, at least."

  "I'm all right, really. I'm fine."

  "Just carrying. Consider me a Sherpa," he said. "Absolutely no funny business."

  She looked at him doubtfully.

  "I think I'm just now seeing how hard it is for you," he said. "Not just here."

  She sighed. "You're just carrying," she said. "Manual labor."

  "Aye aye, Captain."

  She smirked. "All right. Let's go."

  "We're just grabbing cupcakes for Tessa's birthday party," Stacy said, as she shifted gears and passed a car.

  "Okay," Rodney said, his voice sounding strained. "Not to be 'that guy,' but do we need to go eighty-five to do this? Do the cupcakes self-destruct or something if we don't reach them in time?"

  Stacy glanced down at the speedometer. "Sorry," she said, easing off the gas pedal. "I guess my run in with Steve bothered me more than I thought."

  "It would bother anyone," Rodney said. "I was ready to kick his ass."

  "As you probably heard, he was on his way out anyway. They were looking for one more infraction. I just hate that I was it." She sighed. "I'll call Madge when we get back, sort it all out."

  Rodney was quiet for a moment. "You take the job very personally for someone who is only filling in temporarily, if you don't mind my saying."

  She felt her hackles rise. "Just because I'm not doing it forever doesn't mean I won't do my absolute best."

  "Didn't say you shouldn't. I'm just saying it's rare, more's the pity." He seemed to be staring at her. She refused to glance over at him, keeping her eyes on the road. "What do you do when you're not doing interim work?"

  "This and that."

  "Ah. Temp work," he said, that delicious British drawl making even something so mundane sound outrageously sexy. Damn you, British accents! "Commitment phobic, then?"

  She finally did glance over at him, not surprised to see his blue eyes twinkling, and that sexy-as-sin dimple making an appearance just over his meticulously trimmed beard. "You're awfully good at pushing my buttons, Mr. Charles."

  "Ah, I shouldn't," he said, his tone more mischievous than sorry. "But you're fun. And to be honest, I do want to know more about you."

  "Why?"

  He didn't say anything until she turned to him. "You really need to ask?"

  She sighed. "It's not..."

  "I get it. No, really, I do," he said, and his tone was surprisingly serious. "You may find this hard to believe, but back home in England, I was fancied a bit of a catch."

  She thought of how he'd looked, leaning against that wall, staring at her with that little sexy smile.Yeah, she just bet he was "a bit" of a catch.

  "It could get rather ridiculous, after a point," he said, and he actually sounded embarrassed. "Not to say I was fending them off the way you seem to be, but I still understand what it's like to be pursued left and right by people you simply don't connect with. Especially those who don't seem to know or care who you really are."

  She out a breath she hadn't consciously realized she was holding. "That's it. Not that I'm...I mean, I don't mean to be conceited. Believe me, in high school and college, if you'd told me that men would be crowding me for dates, I would've laughed in your face."

  The
y got out of the car. "So what happened?"

  She frowned. "There was...I, well..."

  "Ah." He nodded sagely. "The ex."

  She turned, stunned. "How did you know?"

  He rolled his eyes. "If your absolutely horrified tone didn't tip me off, love, that aghast look on your face would've been the trick," he replied. "He brought you out of your shell, hmmm?"

  "I had just graduated from college. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life, and I was traveling with my friend Rachel." She smiled. "Rachel is the stunning one. Seriously, she's drop-dead gorgeous. You would forget I was in the room in a heartbeat if you met her."

  He glanced at her, those blue eyes giving her a mischievous yet somehow non-sleazy once over. "I sincerely doubt that."

  Something about the way he said it made her feel warm and sugary. "Anyway, he paid attention to me. We had kind of a fling in Italy." She smiled. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered he lived nearby, right here in Snoqualmie, when I came home."

  She was glancing at Rodney when she saw his expression go hard. "Quite the shock."

  "See? You saw it coming. My parents saw it coming." She sighed. "I...well. I didn't see it. Didn't want to see it."

  Thankfully, he didn't say a word.

  "Anyway, we were together for a year and a half. Initially, he always took me places, got me gifts, and paid for everything. But he was a struggling artist, and I...well, I was a trust-fund kid. I didn't have to work. So I'd find myself doing things for him. Little things, at first. Buying dinners, paying for trips, that kind of thing. Got him a car for his birthday."

  "But that wasn't quite enough," Rodney said, and she could hear the restrained anger in his tone.

  "No. It wasn't." She frowned. "He started getting interested in real estate. He wasn't at all like the artist I fell in love with--or thought I fell in love with. He said he didn't want to feel unworthy, especially since I had all this money. He started making little comments about how I looked. Said I was the daughter of the Fielders. Encouraged me to work more with my mother's charity, The Fielder Foundation. I did, and I started dressing the part. After a while, I got a full makeover." She gestured down to her wardrobe. "Before I met him, I'd be wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie with a hole in the sleeve. So I guess I can thank him for that."

  Rodney made a low sound in his throat, like a growl. He didn't seem to agree with her assessment. "Then what?" he asked, in a tight voice.

  The depth of her embarrassment was brutal. "Finally, he said that he wanted my help to invest in something. Something for the two of us. He hit me with it right after he proposed."

  "Bastard," Rodney hissed.

  She shot him a glance as they pulled off the freeway towards Issaquah. "Yeah. Initially, my parents liked him well enough, especially when they thought he was a good influence. But they didn't ever trust him, and when he proposed, and asked for the investment, they really let me know what they thought. They didn't trust him, and didn't want him around me anymore. I was young, stupid, and thought we were getting married." She took a deep breath. "So I gave him what I could get out of my trust fund."

  "Ouch."

  "And then my parents showed me he was a con artist." The pain still seared, even after thirteen months...but who was counting? "He had a girlfriend on the side that he was seeing. He'd researched me, targeted me when I went to Italy. It was terrible."

  "Is he in jail?"

  "Yes. I got him," she said, feeling at least a little fierce spurt of pride. "Trapped him, helped the detectives, and they nailed his ass. His skanky girlfriend, as well."

  "That still had to hurt."

  "More than I care to admit," she said, realizing she'd just told him the ugliest story--one she'd only shared with her girlfriends. She pulled into the parking lot of Ain't She Sweet, a small bakery that made custom cakes. He got out, meeting her in front of the car. "Anyway, since then, I've had plenty of offers, thanks to...you know, the makeover and all. And then helping Madge with this job, I'm in testosterone-ville. "

  "And your parents aren't helping."

  "No. No, they...oh, for fuck's sake," she breathed, turning quickly.

  "What?" He quickly glanced around. "What is it? What's the matter?"

  Not today. Any other day, but not today. She glanced over her shoulder.

  Sure enough, standing in front of the cupcakery was her high school boyfriend--one who still carried a torch for her, the son of a close friend of the family. He was looking the other way, talking on his cell phone. He was wearing a puffy jacket and a fuzzy hat to ward off the chill.

  "I swear to God, today is like the Murphy's Law of dating," she said, gritting her teeth. "This guy is going to ask me out, I guarantee it."

  "Not that I doubt it at this point," Rodney gave her an askance look, "but how can you be sure?"

  "Because he always does."

  Rodney quirked an eyebrow, sizing him up. "Too tired to give him a Steve-styled ass kicking?"

  "Worse. He doesn't deserve one," she said, feeling her heart sink. "His name is Lloyd, and he's actually a nice guy. I just have no chemistry with him, and he seems to think persistence will win the day. With any luck, he won't see...."

  "Stacy?" she heard him say. "Stacy Fielder? Is that you?"

  "Damn it, damn it, damn it... Hi, Lloyd!" She put on her brightest smile.

  "I thought that was you." Lloyd was a finance guy of some sort. He had a round face and a pleasant smile, his high school physique turning vaguely doughy thanks to deskwork. He lit up, and threw his arms around her in a hug, not quite stepping back far enough when he released her. "I was just grabbing some stuff at the bakery here. I hear they've got amazing cupcakes, and you know I''ve got a sweet tooth." His smile was sweet and entirely too sincere. "Funny I should find the sweetest thing here in the parking lot!"

  "Oh, you." Oh, God. "I'm just picking some things up for a friend's birthday..."

  "No worries, I won't keep you." He looked like was winding up for the pitch, and her mind raced for some way to head him off. "Your folks are going to have that insane New Year's costume party, right? My parents and I are planning to be there."

  No, no, no. "Would you look at the time?" she said lamely, glancing at her wrist before realizing she wasn't wearing a watch. She grabbed her phone hastily. "We're going to be late for the party! Better grab those cupcakes...."

  "Why don't we go together?" Lloyd's eyes were bright. "You're single now, I'm single. It just makes sense. What do you say? No point in both of us going stag, right?" He chuckled a little, but his look was intent. Intense, even.

  Stacy quailed. "I'm so sorry, Lloyd."

  "You mean you're not going?"

  She briefly thought about lying. Anything to get out of this. But she had to go. She'd promised the girls, and she was determined to promote the bookstore. But he'd be there, and then he'd probably pester her or act like they were there together.

  All she could do was either go with him, which would give him false hope...or just outright crush him.

  She'd had enough for one day.

  "Sorry, mate, but she's got a date," Rodney interjected. "With me."

  Chapter 4

  As soon as the words were out of Rodney's mouth, he thought he'd swallowed his own tongue.

  Both Stacy and the little bug-eyed fellow were staring at him now. "She's going...with you?" Lloyd said. His expression was clearly suspicious.

  Stacy, on the other hand, looked like someone had given her a good, hard wallop on the bum.

  "Yes," Rodney said, a bit more firmly. "We're going together."

  "Right." Stacy suddenly nodded like a bobble head. "We're...together."

  Lloyd's eyes narrowed. "But your father said you were single. That you wanted--needed--a date to the party."

  Stacy's eyes narrowed, as well. "When, exactly, did he tell you that?"

  "Just today," Lloyd said, obviously irritated. Rodney realized that the fellow's "nice guy" act was a bit of a put on; he knew Stacy
would feel guilty and thought he'd be able to maneuver her into saying yes because she had a kind heart. Not today, Rodney thought, shooting the shorter man a wolfish grin.

  "Let me get this straight," Stacy said, her voice sweet as treacle--something that should've been a warning to poor Lloyd, but the man was far too clueless and petulant to hear it. "You spoke with my parents about asking me out?"

  "And they said you hadn't been in a relationship since Christian," Lloyd said, as if complaining about a bill of sale. Idiot! "They said you've been single for a year, and that you..."

  Suddenly, he stopped short, his round face turning red.

  "That I what?" Stacy prompted, a bit more venom in her tone.

  "We were just talking about the party, that's all," he said, quickly back-pedaling, or trying to. "You happened to come up."

  "I thought you were working in downtown Seattle these days, Lloyd," she said, moving closer to Rodney and putting her arm around his waist. He didn't mind that one bit, turning his face behind her head to hide his grin. In the process, he got a sniff of her scent--freesia, some hyacinth maybe. Floral, elegant. "Issaquah's about twenty minutes away, and that''s without traffic. Are you telling me there aren't any cupcake places in downtown Seattle?"

  "I heard really good things about this one," he said weakly.

  "My mother called you. Told you where I'd be." Stacy's words cut across his protests like a blowtorch. "And you thought you'd just ambush me and ask me out."

  "Is it really that bad a thing?" He was trying the "poor me" stance again. "We dated in high school."

  "For a month!" she yelped. "The answer, by the way, is no."

  "How long have you been seeing this guy?" Lloyd countered, crossing his arms.

  Rodney shook his head. Stop while you're ahead, you ass.

  Stacy's eyes blazed. "I'm not 'seeing' this guy," she said sharply. "I'm screwing this guy."

  Lloyd's mouth dropped open. Rodney choked.

  She glared at him. Then, before he could even brace himself, she laid one right on him, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging his mouth to hers.

  For a second, he smiled against her, amused by the ridiculous drama of the moment. They'd have a good laugh about it, he thought, once this little ponce was on his way.