Page 7 of Let's Call a Truce
“Juliana Ryan. How may I help you?”
“Ms. Ryan, will youpleasehelp me by doing your job and posting this position?” Ben’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“That was a vast improvement, Mr. Thomas. But as I tell my seven- and nine-year-olds, tone matters, too. I always knew my experience with my kids was an asset instead of the liability you consider it, but I never imagined I would need to pull out their manners lessons in the office. Looking forward to your next attempt.”
I let out a small chuckle. This was a giant waste of time. The email in front of me should have already been sent, and I should be halfway to my car by now. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. Every interaction with this man put me on edge, making me act with a pettiness I had never experienced before. I couldn’t resist poking the beast, waiting on the edge of my seat to see how he would respond.
A few minutes of fun at his expense wouldn’t hurt.
I was surprised when my phone didn’t ring again. I prayed I hadn’t pushed him too far and sent him running to Christina. She found our little feud amusing, at least most days, but I don’t think even she would approve of such a waste of time and blatant antagonism.
“Really?” A voice came from the doorway and my eyes snapped up.
Ben leaned in the frame, hands braced on either side of the glass wall. The position pulled his button-down shirt tight across his impressive chest and biceps, the corded muscles in his forearms exposed from where he had rolled up his sleeves. He looked more like a model in a business-themed photo shoot than a man who had worked a full day in the office, and warmth from deep in my stomach seemed to radiate through me. I cursed my body for the way it responded to him, even if my brain recognized he was evil. I flipped my hair over my shoulder, using the movement as an excuse to try to shake off the annoying sensation.
“I’m impressed by how quickly your manners are improving. You’re right. It’s always better to apologize in person.”
“For asking you to do your job?”
I smiled angelically. “Would you mind taking your hands off the glass, please? Smudges make it less likely I’ll get the joy of seeing you walk into it one day.”
My mind did a little happy dance at the imagery. He’d be walking quickly through our office, probably determined to make an unrealistic request on my time. He’d be distracted and would slam face-first into my glass wall. With the atrium outside of my office, the loud crash would echo through the whole space. Everyone would rush out to witness his humiliation.
Ben pushed off the frame, walking over to my desk as I went back to scanning my email. A few seconds later, both of his hands came down on the surface as he leaned over my desk. I shot him an aggravated look.
“Do you enjoy torturing me, Juliana?” His voice was lower than usual, a smooth, seductive sound, whether he intended it that way or not.
A shiver ran through my body. “There’s no real fun when you make it so easy.”
His dark eyes flashed. “Is that what you want? A challenge?”
Everything about this man was a challenge already. I didn’tthink I could handle much more. He had that smirk, the one he sent my way when he caught me looking a few seconds too long or when a comment that would have been innocent from another mouth made me flush. I hated that I responded to him this way. I hated that he knew it even more.
But I wasn’t the only one who looked more than they should, and since I’d seen as many clenched jaws as he’d seen blushes, I wasn’t going to stand down from this fight.
I stood from my seat, mirroring his position until our faces were a foot apart. His eyes flicked down to my lips, and I fought off another tremor.
“What I want,” I said quietly, staring into the deep pools of his eyes, “is for you to get out of my office so I can finish this email and get out of here.”
Ben chuckled, standing straight as he tugged on his shirt cuff. “Of course that’s what you want. I emailed you the job description. I want it posted tonight.”
“It’ll be posted Monday.” I turned back to my computer without giving him a second glance.
“I don’t have time to fight about this.”
“I forgot that Satan has those mixers for his top agents on Fridays. Can’t miss that, can you?”
“Hilarious,” he deadpanned, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re not the only one with stuff going on. I—”
“Ihave zero interest in knowing how you spend your Friday nights.” Probably with a different woman, dinner and drinks before going back to his house to… Nope. Not going there. “You go do whatever it is you do, and your job will be posted on Monday.”
“If you hadn’t had your little fun and did it when I first asked—”
“Demanded, not asked.”
“—it would already be done. Post it tonight.”
“When did this job get approved?”
