Page 35 of The Devil In Denim
“No, I’d rather you treated me like you would any other employee.”
“Well, technically you’re not an employee yet. And you’ll be a contractor.”
“That’s semantics. You’re going to be my boss. So don’t flirt with me. It’s inappropriate.”
“That’s your objection, Saint Maggie? That it’s inappropriate?”
She felt herself bristle. “Don’t call me that. And yes, that’s my objection. Colleagues shouldn’t date.”
“Now who’s playing dumb?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not worried about it being inappropriate. You’re worried because you like it when I flirt with you.”
“Wow. Ego, much?”
He shrugged, then leaned toward her. “I know chemistry when I feel it. And we, Saint Maggie, have chemistry.” He snapped his fingers. “We have that. Which is unfortunate because you’ve decided I’m the devil and I am, as you pointed out, going to be your boss, but that doesn’t alter the fact that it’s there and it’s making you very nervous.” He leaned back. “But that’s okay. It’s been a weird week for you, I get that. So you can be nervous and we can both be sensible and we’ll see how things work out.”
She really didn’t know what to say that. She didn’t know if she should slap him or laugh or … “I’m pretty sure it will work out by me being perfectly happy with you not flirting with me.”
He shrugged again. “We’ll see. Anyway, back to your salary.” He named a figure that was quite a bit more than she’d been expecting.
Maggie blinked.
“Plus you can keep your parking space—I’m giving your dad his permanently. Corporate credit card, we’ll pay your cell phone, and you can use a driver when you need one. What do you think?”
She forced her brain back into gear. The offer was generous. It wasn’t as much as her dad would’ve paid her but she hadn’t expected Alex to match that. She’d researched the salaries of team management pretty extensively over the years. This was high enough that he was serious about wanting her to stay. So did she try to get more, or did she just accept in the interest of getting this meeting over and done with as quickly as possible?
Alex watched her with a speculative expression. The man lived for the deal, she reminded herself. If she took his first offer, he’d think she was a pushover. She straightened her shoulders. “I was thinking a bit more than that.”
His eyes lit with appreciation. Good. She’d been right. She sat a little higher and readied herself to deal.
Thirty minutes later, Alex was shaking her hand. She found herself smiling at him. Dealing, it seemed, was more fun than she had expected.
“I’ll get Gardner to draw up the contract tomorrow,” Alex said. “You can start on Monday.”
“I thought you wanted help with the party.”
“Well, I’ve got caterers. I could use your help with what people’s favorite drinks are—I’ll send you the guest list that I’ve put together—but I think other than you showing up on the night and helping the three of us get to know everyone, there’s not that much to be done.” He pushed back his chair. “Have you talked to your dad yet?”
Maggie shook her head. “No. He wasn’t home this morning.”
“Try again tomorrow,” Alex suggested. “Let him know what you’ve decided.”
She doubted her staying at the Saints was going to be the topic of conversation when she did manage to pin Tom down. No, that was going to be way down on the list. After why he’d been lying to her for several years and all the other variations of that topic. But Alex didn’t need to hear about that. If she wanted to keep their relationship strictly professional, then that meant no whining to him about her family dramas. “Are you sure you don’t need me to do anything more for the party?”
He shook his head. “No. Go. Or rather, come say hello to Mal and Lucas first, they’re going to be very happy you’re staying.”
Maggie woke early the next morning and hauled herself back up the highway to her dad’s house. With the amount of commuting she was starting to do, she was glad she’d talked Alex into paying for her gas during their little negotiation.
She didn’t call in advance, not wanting to give Tom a chance to blow her off with an excuse. But when she arrived, the curtains were drawn in the front room and no one answered when she rang the bell.
Annoyed, she let herself in and roamed through the house, making sure that her dad wasn’t lurking somewhere and pretending not to be home to avoid the press. No luck. The place was deserted and Tom’s car was gone from the garage.
Frustrated, she grabbed her phone and called him. Voice mail. She rang off without leaving a message and then tried Shonda.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked after they’d said hello and done the “how was your Christmas” thing.
