Page 20 of Out of Office Nights
She cleared her throat and took the bull by the horns. ‘You’re right, I don’t recall the finer terms of our agreement. I wasn’t expecting to see you for another four weeks.’
His eyes openly mocked her. ‘You mean you weren’t paying attention because you were preoccupied? With what, exactly?’
She fought the heat that rose, turning away so he wouldn’t read her expression. He trailed after her as she went into the kitchen, filled the kettle and lit the stove. Then with nothing else to do, she faced him. ‘Yes. And it doesn’t matter.’
His eyes glinted for a moment then he leaned against the kitchen wall, a picture of masculinity that rudely captured her attention, refusing to let go.
‘You agreed to keep me updated with your work, checking in at least once every two weeks. You missed the first check-in four days ago. Cristobal didn’t.’
He’d dropped her rival’s name just to rile her, and predictably, her belly clenched. But she wasn’t going to waste time asking about her competitor. Not when she had pathetically little to show for herself.
Her gaze slid to the dining table where she’d left the remnants of her attempts about a week ago. He tracked her glance, straightening.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’ he fired back.
‘It’s…not ready yet.’
‘Evidently not, or you would be in a much better mood. But we are where we are. We have no choice.’ The delivery was soft but just as deadly as it’d been at her door. The Playboy Prince had receded again, and the consummate creative genius was firmly in place. ‘You will show them to me.’
She opened her mouth to refuse just as the kettle whistled, making her jump. ‘Tea?’
He watched her for a few beats then shrugged. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Go ahead and make your tea.’
Her hands shook through the process, but she made it, carried it over to the living room coffee table and set it down. ‘Help yourself. I need to go and shower—’
He was shaking his head. ‘You’re stalling. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. Now.’
‘Because you’ve got other places to be?’ she bit back, stung because he’d accurately guessed she was desperate for a breather.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘What if I don’t? Are you inviting me to stay?’
‘No.’ That came out much harsher than she’d intended.
His face tightened. ‘Then, let’s get on with it, by all means.’
To buy herself more time, she poured tea into two glass cups and pointedly held one out to him. ‘As much as I don’t want you here, my grandmother taught me to be courteous. Tea?’
The corner of his mouth twitching, he accepted it, his fingers grazing hers before he raised it to his lips and took a healthy sip. Then, his gaze still on her, he took another drink and emptied the glass.
‘Now your obligations as a good granddaughter have been fulfilled.’
She sipped hers much more slowly but inevitably the small glass was soon finished and she had no choice but to face the music.
Breath held, she walked over to the dining table, supremely conscious of his intense presence. She’d thrown a light tablecloth over her drawings a week ago, more in despair than to protect anything she’d done. Grabbing one corner of it, she drew it away.
She watched him saunter to the other side of the table, his gaze searching hers for a handful of seconds before they dropped.
Sabeen couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even look as he reached for the first one. Then the second. Coolly examined each sketch. When he was done, he flattened his hands on the table.
‘Do you need me to say it?’ he murmured.
She swallowed the boulder in her throat and still couldn’t speak.
‘Sabeen,’ he pressed firmly.
‘Say it,’ she implored hoarsely. ‘If you’re going to fire me, just do it.’
