"I don't flirt in the office. With coworkers."
“We could be more than coworkers. What do you say?"
“How about never? Does never work for you?"
Some of the wattage went out of his smile at that, but she didn't care. Last week in the employee break room he'd made a move on her. He'd cornered her between the sink and the refrigerator and tried to kiss her. She'd shoved him back, maybe a little harder than the situation warranted, but really, he was just lucky she'd let him keep his balls.
At the shove, he'd fallen backward into a table, spilling a glass of water, which in turn soaked into the seat of his pants. He'd made a joke of it then, apparently thinking that laughing it off would be the easiest way for his ego to handle the rejection, but she knew he'd been pissed.
"You're still upset about the kiss," he said in an annoyingly patronizing tone. "Honestly, Mia, the way you leaned into me, I thought you wanted me to kiss you."
“You've been fantasizing again." She liked kissing, very much. But as the queen of compartmentalizing, she’d long ago divided her needs into little groups. First and most important, job. Second, men.
Never the two shall meet.
The men in her office, and there were many, had correctly read her back-off signs. She knew they called her Ice Queen among other less flattering things, and she didn't care, because what Ted hadn't anticipated when he'd made the move on her was how he'd unwittingly put her into the position of power, a situation he greatly regretted. His eyes were no longer friendly.
“I'll get to the point of me being here," he said.
“Why don't you."
"You got the Anderson account."
The two of them might be equals on the scale when it came to the ladder of success within this company, but that was only because he'd been here longer. Mia was better at the job. She knew it, everyone in the office knew it, and Ted knew it, too.
He just didn't like it, or her aggression in getting other-and winning-accounts. Bottom line, he was lazy. She was not.
"Yes, I got the Anderson account," she said.
"You stole it out from beneath me."
Ah. The victim angle. She should have guessed he'd go that route. She'd won the account fairly, with blood and sweat and tears. Okay, maybe not with blood or tears, but certainly with long, hard hours over the past several months. She'd put her heart and soul into it, and she wanted to hear him say it, even knowing he'd never give her that satisfaction. "I don't know what your problem is," she said quietly. "But I bet it's hard to pronounce."
His jaw ticced. "I should have gotten that account." He pushed a file across her gorgeous Baker desk. "My ideas were better."
"Now, that's just plain not nice."
"It's true."
"You're insulting my entire creative team."
"Just stating fact."
The man was impossible. She picked up his work and dropped it in the trash.
His eyes filled with anger. "Bitch."
"Oooh, ouch. You got me, Ted. Now get out."
"That account should have been mine."
"You know what? I can stand your arrogance, and maybe even stand your smugness-though it'd be easier if you weren't wearing such a tacky suit-but I won't stand being accused of stealing. Get out."
"You should have to share that account with me."
"When hell freezes over." Planting her hands flat on her desk, she leaned over and looked him right in the cold eyes. "Read my lips, Ted. I don't share." She shoved his loafers off her desk and stood her ground while he slowly, insolently rose to his feet. Never had she resented her average height more as he towered over her, leanly muscled and ticked off.
“I want that account, Mia."
“Get out. Now."
For one long beat he stood his ground, staring her down, no longer even attempting to hold the facade of friendliness.
She stared back, bitterly resenting that she had to tip her head up to do so. Tomorrow she'd wear her other Manolos, the five-inch stilettos, if it meant looking this prick right in the eyes.
Finally he slowly backed off and walked out, shutting her door too hard, rustling her new gorgeous plant. Not sure how many more people she was going to piss off today, she shifted the pot away from the door, then stood there, her heart beating just a little too hard for comfort. God, she really hated a bully, but she especially hated that he'd gotten to her and made her uneasy.
And just a tad nervous.
Refusing to let him ruin one more second of her time, she got busy, burying herself in the groundwork for her next conquest, a major athletic shoe account. She and Dick had nicknamed the file “Runner" to keep it quiet from other firms. That very secrecy and care was what had garnered her such an Ice Queen rep, but she worked hard, so what? Others could do the same; she'd only respect that.
She'd already been briefed by the Runner company on what they expected and wanted, and now it was up to her to create a campaign from scratch. Her favorite part. Most times, this involved her creative team. She loved those late-night meetings, where ideas flew freely and the creative muse took control.
But for now, with this account, she was on her own, and she worked on the research until noon.
By then she'd forgotten all about Ted, and she sat with Tess in the employee lunchroom.
"He was smiling when he left your office," Tess reported over her moo shoo. Others were around, including Margot, so she leaned in for privacy. "Smiling like a snake, too. He left for a meeting on fourth, the rat-fink bastard. I hope the layoff rumors have him worried and he's looking for a job elsewhere."
"Not likely. Don't worry, I can handle him." Mia sank her teeth into a pot sticker. She could handle anything, she thought. Suddenly the smoke alarms went off. Everyone ran into the hallway.
The thick smoke cut off Mia's air. Janice and Tami from her creative team had their laptops hugged to their breasts, but Steven and Dillon were nowhere in sight. People were already evacuating when Mia darted into her office to grab her laptop, where she found an unwelcome surprise.
The smoke came from here. Specifically, her trash can. "Shit." Grabbing the water bottle off her desk, she raced to the trash can and dumped the contents over the flames, which gave one last surge-straight upward and into her face-before dying with a hissing gasp.
"Shit," she said again, stumbling blind backward. With a gasp, she remembered her new plant. Panicked, she whirled around. It looked a little wilted but okay, and she gratefully hugged the pot close as she sank to a chair.
Margot was the first to show up, with half the building behind her. "The fire department is on its way- Ohmigod, Mia! Are you hurt?"
"No." Mia swiped her sweating forehead with her forearm, which came away black with soot. Ugh.
Tess shoved her way in, yelling, "Clear the way, let me through, damn it!" Then she skidded to a stop. "Oh, my God-"
"I'm okay," Mia said quickly.
"But honey, your eyebrow!"
Gone, Mia discovered. Just like her trash can.
But she still had the plant.
"You'd better work on that rejection policy of yours," Tess said in the employee bathroom a few hours later, after Mia refused to let the paramedics fuss over her, after everyone had been allowed back in the building and been thoroughly lectured by the fire marshal.
He'd deemed the incident "suspicious in nature," and an investigation was under way.
Mia instantly thought of Ted, but he'd been gone from the building. Which meant she had someone else after her, a fact that Tess pointed out with great worry.
"Who now?" she fretted. "Who else have you succeeded past, made look bad, or walked all over?"
She would have protested, but the truth was she hadn't made a lot of friends over the years. She stared in the mirror at her singed eyebrow. "I guess could make a few social changes."