One Night with the Boss

If only that were true. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“I guess it’s important enough to hurl spheres at me.” He slid his chair away from the computer, swiveled and faced her. Then he picked up the orange ball that had landed on his desk. Squeezing it he said, “Okay. You have my undivided attention.”

Since turning fifteen years old, she’d wondered how it would feel to have all his concentration focused on her. This token of his interest wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but sadly, it was all she would ever know. And that wasn’t enough for her. But this was a poor substitute. She had to get away before her spirit shriveled and disappeared.

“I’m giving my notice.”

“Of what?”

For a smart guy, he could be irritatingly dense. Or he was deliberately deflecting, hoping to get her off message. Not this time. This time was going to be different.

“I’m tendering my resignation.”

“You’re leaving me? There’s nothing tender about that.”

“Not you.” That was a lie of self-protection. No way could she tell him how right he actually was. “I’m leaving your company.”

“You’re abandoning me?”

“You’re so melodramatic. Not everything is about you.”

He squeezed the orange ball until his knuckles turned white. “Didn’t we just go through this?”

“Not just.”

“Same time last year.”

“Pretty close,” she allowed.

It was exactly the same time. There was something about being a few weeks into a new year that made a person want to change their life. And she should have known better than anyone that this man would remember, because he had a mind like a steel trap.

Not to mention a face and body that could make him a model or movie star instead of the megasuccessful businessman he was. Dark brown hair, short and carelessly mussed, complemented the scruff on his cheeks and jaw. He probably hadn’t shaved because he didn’t have to. There were no outside meetings today. No hot date later. Since she kept his calendar, she knew about things like that.

He certainly wasn’t trying to impress her. She thought he looked amazing no matter what. Not that he cared.

Olivia secretly sighed over the scruff—and everything else about her boss. Piercing was the only way to describe his green eyes, which snapped with intelligence and wicked humor. The casual white cotton shirt and worn jeans perfectly showcased his broad shoulders, muscular chest and flat abdomen that were the result of disciplined workouts on the state-of-the-art equipment in his upstairs gym. He could be People magazine’s sexiest CEO and most eligible bachelor.

She would miss the view when she was gone, but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

“Okay.” He nodded as if he’d made up his mind. “Based on past data from this time last year, giving notice is your way of asking for a raise.”

“Not really.” When she tried to quit last year, he’d offered her more money, but that wasn’t why she’d stayed.

“Let’s call it a cost-of-living increase. When you do the paperwork, give yourself however much you think is reasonable.” The right corner of his mouth quirked up, unleashing a rogue dimple.

Damn that dimple. It opened the incredibly insubstantial door that was holding back all her insecurity and weakness. Determination, don’t desert me now, she silently begged.

“What if I think the majority share of the company is a reasonable increase?” she asked.

“You don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“There’s not an unfair or dishonest bone in your body.”

So, he’d taken note of her bones. Should she be flattered? Just thinking that made her pathetic. “You can’t be sure I haven’t turned demanding and greedy.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

The grin punctuating his words was proof that he saw her as a Goody Two-shoes. Wow, warm fuzzy from that.

Back on task. “I’m not here for a raise. I just want to resign.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she said firmly. “Giving notice is the courteous thing to do when one is leaving one’s employer.”

The smile curving his mouth disappeared and those green eyes narrowed, as if he’d finally noticed something different this time. “You can’t be serious about leaving.”

“Sure I can.”

“Well, I don’t accept your resignation.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“The hell I don’t,” he said stubbornly.

“That’s up to you.” She slid her hands into the pockets of her slacks to hide the shaking. “But you’re on notice that two weeks from now I’m not showing up.”

He stood and walked around the desk. This was the part she dreaded, the part where he invaded her personal space without any clue how his blatant masculinity threatened to chase off her determination.

She turned away and concentrated on the fireplace, where wood was burning and crackling. The fire, the furniture, the man—everything—made a person feel warm and cozy inside as a dreary rain soaked the world on the other side of the window.

“Two weeks’ notice is all you’re giving me?”

“It’s standard.” She turned to face him.

“I can’t find a replacement in that short a time. You need to give me a month. Two would be better.”

She shook her head. “I know you, Brady. If I don’t give you a deadline, you won’t even look for anyone.”

“I don’t have time. You know that.”

“So you better get cracking on my replacement.” She turned away again, because the look on his face showed it was starting to sink in that she was completely serious this time. Feeling sorry for him was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

“Don’t do this, Liv.”

The nickname chipped away at her defenses, weakened her resolve. “I have to.”