The Devil in Denim (12 page)

“You really did grow up here,” Alex said.

“Yes.” She swallowed. No more adding notches now.

He straightened, then looked from the frame to her. “You’re taller than the highest one.”

Maggie shook her head. “Heels.” She stared at the mark. Once upon a time, she’d fit perfectly here. Now it all felt wrong. And it was Alex’s fault.

She turned and went back to the chair, sitting down with a thump. She grabbed the soda and poured, needing something to distract her from the memories.

Alex settled himself in the chair next to hers.

His closeness unnerved her and she moved her chair back a little, angling to face him but gaining some space. Today he was back in his usual jeans and blazer, dark blue and light gray respectively. The combination made his eyes look extra green. Or maybe that was the odd fluorescent lighting. She swigged soda nervously and swallowed too fast, the bubbles burning her nose as she gulped.

“So did you want to talk about the party?” she managed when she was sure she wasn’t choking.

Alex cocked his head. “Don’t you want to talk about your contract?”

Right. Contract. Money. Working for the devil. That was why she was here. She should be able to remember that much.

“Okay. How much are you offering?”

Alex grinned. “No beating around the bush, then?”

“I told you I didn’t come cheap.”

“The Saints don’t have a lot of money,” he countered.

“No, but you do.”

“Are you saying you want me to pay your wage out of my own pocket?” He cocked his head, something creeping into his grin that was more than amusement.

Something … hotter.

Maggie backpedaled. “Er. No. That sounds wrong. I just meant that you’re giving the team a cash injection, so you can afford to pay me a decent wage.”

“Some might argue that you’d want to help the team out.”

“I do. That’s why I’m here. And I’m not asking for a ridiculous salary.”

“Name your figure.”

She paused, studying him. “And you’ll just pay it?”

“No. It just gives us a starting point for our negotiations.”

“Negotiations?”

“That’s what you do when you make a deal. You negotiate. Compromise. Give-and-take.”

“I bet you do more taking than you do giving.”

That heat slid over his face again. “Oh, I give more than you might think.” His voice dropped lower and her stomach quivered in response.

“Don’t,” she said.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t flirt with me.”

“Who says I was flirting?”

“Don’t play dumb either.” She ran a finger around the rim of her glass and it made a faint shimmer of sound. Then she looked back at him. “You’re flirting. You’re trying to charm me. Don’t.”

“You’d rather I was unpleasant?”

“No, I’d rather you treated me like you would any other employee.”

“Well, technically you’re not an employee yet. And you’ll be a contractor.”

“That’s semantics. You’re going to be my boss. So don’t flirt with me. It’s inappropriate.”

“That’s your objection, Saint Maggie? That it’s inappropriate?”

She felt herself bristle. “Don’t call me that. And yes, that’s my objection. Colleagues shouldn’t date.”

“Now who’s playing dumb?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not worried about it being inappropriate. You’re worried because you like it when I flirt with you.”

“Wow. Ego, much?”

He shrugged, then leaned toward her. “I know chemistry when I feel it. And we, Saint Maggie, have chemistry.” He snapped his fingers. “We have that. Which is unfortunate because you’ve decided I’m the devil and I am, as you pointed out, going to be your boss, but that doesn’t alter the fact that it’s there and it’s making you very nervous.” He leaned back. “But that’s okay. It’s been a weird week for you, I get that. So you can be nervous and we can both be sensible and we’ll see how things work out.”

She really didn’t know what to say that. She didn’t know if she should slap him or laugh or … “I’m pretty sure it will work out by me being perfectly happy with you not flirting with me.”

He shrugged again. “We’ll see. Anyway, back to your salary.” He named a figure that was quite a bit more than she’d been expecting.

Maggie blinked.

“Plus you can keep your parking space—I’m giving your dad his permanently. Corporate credit card, we’ll pay your cell phone, and you can use a driver when you need one. What do you think?”

She forced her brain back into gear. The offer was generous. It wasn’t as much as her dad would’ve paid her but she hadn’t expected Alex to match that. She’d researched the salaries of team management pretty extensively over the years. This was high enough that he was serious about wanting her to stay. So did she try to get more, or did she just accept in the interest of getting this meeting over and done with as quickly as possible?

Alex watched her with a speculative expression. The man lived for the deal, she reminded herself. If she took his first offer, he’d think she was a pushover. She straightened her shoulders. “I was thinking a bit more than that.”

His eyes lit with appreciation. Good. She’d been right. She sat a little higher and readied herself to deal.

Thirty minutes later, Alex was shaking her hand. She found herself smiling at him. Dealing, it seemed, was more fun than she had expected.

“I’ll get Gardner to draw up the contract tomorrow,” Alex said. “You can start on Monday.”

“I thought you wanted help with the party.”

“Well, I’ve got caterers. I could use your help with what people’s favorite drinks are—I’ll send you the guest list that I’ve put together—but I think other than you showing up on the night and helping the three of us get to know everyone, there’s not that much to be done.” He pushed back his chair. “Have you talked to your dad yet?”

Maggie shook her head. “No. He wasn’t home this morning.”

“Try again tomorrow,” Alex suggested. “Let him know what you’ve decided.”

She doubted her staying at the Saints was going to be the topic of conversation when she did manage to pin Tom down. No, that was going to be way down on the list. After why he’d been lying to her for several years and all the other variations of that topic. But Alex didn’t need to hear about that. If she wanted to keep their relationship strictly professional, then that meant no whining to him about her family dramas. “Are you sure you don’t need me to do anything more for the party?”

He shook his head. “No. Go. Or rather, come say hello to Mal and Lucas first, they’re going to be very happy you’re staying.”

*   *   *

Maggie woke early the next morning and hauled herself back up the highway to her dad’s house. With the amount of commuting she was starting to do, she was glad she’d talked Alex into paying for her gas during their little negotiation.

She didn’t call in advance, not wanting to give Tom a chance to blow her off with an excuse. But when she arrived, the curtains were drawn in the front room and no one answered when she rang the bell.

Annoyed, she let herself in and roamed through the house, making sure that her dad wasn’t lurking somewhere and pretending not to be home to avoid the press. No luck. The place was deserted and Tom’s car was gone from the garage.

Frustrated, she grabbed her phone and called him. Voice mail. She rang off without leaving a message and then tried Shonda.

“Where’s Dad?” she asked after they’d said hello and done the “how was your Christmas” thing.

“He took Veronica away for the weekend,” Shonda said. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No.” Away? Where? Did that mean he wouldn’t be around for the party? Crap. “Did he tell you where?”

“No. He said he didn’t want anyone to know. The press have been bugging him all week.”

“Are you being a good PA now or telling me the truth?” Maggie realized with a sudden pang of guilt that she hadn’t asked Alex about Shonda and whether she was still going to have a job with Tom gone. She’d run his office at the Saints for nearly ten years, clucking over him and Maggie like a mother hen but turning a ruthless watchdog bark on anyone who tried to get around her to get to either of them or slip around the sacred Shonda schedule.

“It’s the truth, honey. He booked his own tickets even. And used one of his personal cards.”

He really was trying to fly under the radar then. “Okay. Thanks. Are you coming to the party on Saturday?” The invitation from the terrible trio—she really should try to stop thinking of them as that if she was going to work with them—had come through to her e-mail earlier that morning, so she assumed everyone knew now.

“Sure. I want to check out Alex Winters’s fancy apartment. And drink his booze. Just like everybody else does.”

“Has Winters—” Maggie hesitated, wondering if it was her place to bring up Shonda’s job. But she was the closest thing Maggie had to a surrogate mom, so maybe she should. “Did he—”

“Did he offer me a job?” Shonda chuckled. “Yes. Not working for him. He has that Gardner boy and a whole flock of assistants apparently. But he asked if I wanted to work for Malachi or did I want to take a redundancy or see what was available in his other companies. Your dad asked me to stay with him too. So don’t you worry about me. Everybody wants Shonda.”

Relief flooded through Maggie. “Oh. That’s wonderful.” But then she realized that raising the topic of employment might just inspire Shonda to grill her about what she was going to do. Time for a speedy exit. She extracted herself from the conversation and stood for a moment, wondering what to do next. Then she remembered she still needed a dress for the party because her shopping trip with Hana and Shelly yesterday hadn’t yielded anything that had met with Hana’s approval. Time for a second attempt.

*   *   *

Maggie was late to the party, thanks to ugly traffic and last-minute nerves. Alex opened the door and smiled a welcome as he ushered her inside. Maggie stepped around him and turned a slow circle, taking in the large foyer with approval. Pale walls, dark timber floors, and a series of black-and-white photos of baseball greats either side of the doorway that led into the next room.

“Like it?” Alex said when she came to a stop, facing him.

She managed a smile. “I officially have apartment envy.” And nerves, she realized with a sinking feeling. The good kind of fluttering stomach nerves that she really shouldn’t feel from the presence of Alex Winters.

“Yours is nice too. Can I take your coat?” He held out his hand.

“Not this scale nice.” She slipped off her coat.

Alex went still. “Nice dress.”

“Thank you.” Hana had been right about the dress apparently. It was short and a deep blue that gleamed softly in the light as the fabric draped her body with just the faintest hint of silvery sparkle to match the shoes. She watched his eyes travel over her and come back to her face, suddenly greener than ever. She turned toward the sound of voices and music. Safety.

He caught her wrist, his fingers warm against her skin, his grip gentle. “Not so fast.”

“Sorry?”

He glanced upward. She followed his gaze. Above the door was the biggest bunch of mistletoe she’d ever laid eyes on.

“Mistletoe? Seriously?”

His grip tightened just a little. Tugged her toward him. “What’s wrong with mistletoe?”

She resisted the pressure, ignoring the tingle in her wrist where his fingers rested against her pulse. “It’s poisonous.”

“I’m not asking you to eat it.”

“It’s not Christmas.”

“This is a belated Christmas party, remember? I didn’t own the Saints at Christmas.”

“Don’t remind me.” She pulled at her arm, feeling her pulse pick up. Scared that he might not let her go. Scared that he might. Which was crazy. “Besides, we agreed, no flirting.” State the ground rules again. That couldn’t hurt.

“Maybe. But regardless, where’s your festive spirit?” His lips curved. She was starting to be way too familiar with the precise shape of his mouth when he smiled.

“It was just fine at Christmas.” She tugged again.

He pulled her closer. “You don’t want to mess with tradition. You know how superstitious ballplayers can be.”

“You’re not a ballplayer.”

Alex grinned, nodded toward the inner door. “There’s a whole roomful of them in there. You never know what might set them off.”

“The season hasn’t even started. They’ll be fine.”

“I might not be.” His fingers stroked her skin ever so softly.

“Alex … I thought we agreed. You’re my boss. I don’t date my bosses. And I’m sure you don’t date employees.”

“Not usually,” he murmured, sounding a little … torn. “But it is Christmas.” He glanced up at the mistletoe.

“No it’s not.” But she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull her wrist free.

“You know, you could view it as an experiment. Might solve our problem.”

“An experiment?” She was having trouble following the thread of his argument.

“We could kiss, it could be terrible, and boom, no more chemistry. Problem solved.”

It wouldn’t be terrible. She knew that in her bones. It would be more like boom, way too much chemistry. Nuclear-reaction-level chemistry. “I think your lawyers would say that’s a bad idea.”

“What, one little kiss and you’d sue me?”

She summoned a smile. “Yep, that’s me. Discrimination suit waiting to happen.”

“You don’t strike me as the litigious type.”

“You don’t know what type I am.”

“I’m trusting my instincts. They’re pretty good.”

“Famous last words.”

“C’mon, Maggie. Just one little friendly mistletoe kiss. What harm could it do?”

It could do a lot of harm. Danger, danger, Will Robinson. The only way to get through this was to keep Alex and all his temptations firmly at arm’s length. Her brain knew that but it seemed her body wasn’t quite so sure. The tingle had spread from her wrist and was creeping up her arm, stealing through her nerves like soft fire, weakening her defenses.

“Lots.”

“How?”

“People will get the wrong idea.”

“What kind of wrong idea? That you like me? Isn’t that kind of the point?”

“Liking you is different from
liking
you. I don’t want them thinking that.” If Hana could hear her now, she’d be shaking her head in disgust. She’d done another round of “use your advantages” to get control of the new boss while they’d shopped.