His Forever Girl

She stalked toward the exit, wishing she hadn’t worn jeans and sneakers. High heels tapping on the floor would have been much more dramatic. Pushing the bar that would lead to the smokers’ lounge high above the rough waters of the Mississippi, Tess inhaled not smoke, but the brackish, fetid air of the river. No one sat on the porch, but she didn’t want to be interrupted, so she quickly took the worn steps down to the deck several feet below, now glad she’d worn her tennis shoes.

Reaching the smaller landing holding an ancient picnic table and two chained deck chairs, she spun around. “You bastard.”

Graham stopped by the last step, shifting his gaze toward a tugboat pushing a colossal rusted barge. “I deserve that.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“I didn’t call you.”

His words were a day late and a dollar short. Didn’t matter anymore. She’d decided twenty minutes ago when she’d seen him sitting in her father’s office as the heir apparent she was way over the infatuation that had dominated her thoughts and body for weeks after he left her loft. That ship had sailed. Bye-bye.

“You think this is about you not calling?”

“It was rude.”

“It was pretty rude. But what did you think I wanted? Commitment? You were a fun screw, that’s it. So, no, this isn’t about you not calling.”

Something in his eyes wavered and she could tell he hadn’t expected such a casual dismissal. “A fun screw, huh?”

“For you, too, I imagine. If it were anything more you would have called me, right?” She lifted an eyebrow, feeling the righteousness in her anger.

“About that. See, there were some things going on....” He looked away, hiding from her, but she didn’t care. She meant what she said—what she felt—Graham meant nothing to her on that level. He was a used-to-be.

But on a professional level...

“What I have to say to you has nothing to do with that night a month ago. That’s over. This is the here and now, and you are the bastard who slinked into my company and stole my job.”

“Now, wait a minute.” He held up a hand. His was a nice hand—manicured nails, strong blunt fingers, wide palm. Very capable hands that had stroked her, loved her and made her believe in something that wasn’t real. “I didn’t slink into anything. In fact, your father never even mentioned you. I had no idea until today that he had a daughter who worked in the company.”

Knife wound. Tess clasped her chest before she could think better of betraying her emotions.

Her father hadn’t even mentioned her?

“What do you want me to say? Did he mention Dave? Or how about Petra? Jules? Red Jack? Bennie B? Or Scooter O’Neil?”

“No, he went over the departments, but never said he had a daughter who headed up operations. You know I didn’t sneak in here trying to steal anything from you. You can be pissed, but you have to be fair.”

Jabbing a finger at him, Tess said, “I don’t have to be anything. Don’t tell me what to do.”

Graham slid his hands into his pockets, making his shoulders beneath the poplin dress shirt look amazingly broad. Yeah, she hurt, but she hadn’t failed to notice his masculine charms, which pissed her off all over again. “Fine.”

For a few seconds they stood, defensive and wary.

Tess sighed. “What do you expect me to say?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. It’s a hard situation, but right now I don’t feel I can take the job.” He looked almost like a dog trying to nose the bone her way after he’d already gnawed off the fattest parts.

“Oh, please. Who passes up a job like this?” she said, trying not to hiss at him.

God, please tell me he’s not that stupid. Please tell me this isn’t some capricious acceptance of a job. She couldn’t handle it if he treated it like it was no big deal.

Graham shrugged. “Everything’s pretty much ruined. I can’t be your father’s pawn in a game I don’t even understand.”

“Pawn?”

“Well, something’s up. Otherwise you would have been in on this from the beginning, right? I don’t know why your father has done what he’s done, but I’m wading in uncharted waters without a compass.”

Tess didn’t want to admit he was partly right, didn’t want to forget the asshole status she’d assigned him. None of his admissions fixed anything in the world falling apart around her.

“I’m not going to lie. I need this job—it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me—but I never slinked in. I never took anything from you. I’m not saying I’m blameless or you shouldn’t be angry, but don’t paint me as what I’m not. I was a jerk to you, but I did nothing wrong in regard to this job.”

“A jerk I can deal with. This? Not so much,” she said, turning her head toward the far bank of Algiers Point. She didn’t want him to see the cracks in her. Didn’t want him to know how much his callous disregard almost a month ago had dinged her pride, had made her wonder why she wasn’t good enough for a guy to want as more than just a good time.

Why buy the cow... Her mother’s voice echoed inside her head.

Maybe that was Tess’s problem—she wanted to be in love, craved the touch of a man who would love her back, so much she plunged in without checking the depth.

In Graham’s case the water had been about six inches deep.

Splat.

Graham moved closer, his steps sounding sympathetic, even though Tess knew that was impossible. “Don’t,” she said, flinging out a hand.

“What?”

“Don’t come near me.”

He stopped, resting his hands on his hips. “Look, it will be easier for everyone if I dissolve the contract and move on. It’s the least I can do in this situation.”

Tess snorted. “The least you can do? Whatever. Spare me your sympathy.”

“It’s not sympathy. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“Well, don’t. I’m not working here. My father obviously doesn’t value me enough to think I can handle our family business. I won’t waste your time with how that makes me feel. He’s not giving the job to me so I could give a rat’s ass who takes it.”

Graham searched her face with shuttered eyes of arctic blue. “I can break the contract.”

“No, you can’t. My father gets what he wants, and he’s never played well when it comes to business. If you quit, he’ll sue you, wrap you up in red tape and hire someone else.”

Graham swallowed again. Hard. “Surely once I tell him our relationship—”

“Why? We don’t have a relationship. It was sex. Meaningless sex. Let’s not make it what it isn’t. Besides, why would he care? He’s a misogynist Italian who could have run the mafia but decided he’d rather screw people legally. Don’t let his Hush Puppies shoes fool you. Frank Ullo’s a shark.”

Graham seemed to think about this. “I still don’t feel right though. Doesn’t feel good to me.”

So now he feels bad? He should have felt bad two weeks ago when she put her heart on the line and called him, when she told him she’d never felt this way about anyone and asked him to call her. That’s when he should have been honorable and at least given her the decency of a call.

But she didn’t say that. Instead she shrugged. “Too bad. You’re the new boss. Might as well start thinking about who you are and how you want to be perceived by everyone here. He’s not going to let you go easily. He doesn’t care about ‘feelings.’”