Working It (8 page)

She got dressed, still humming, doing impromptu lit
tle dance moves in her happiness. It was coming together. She was doing it. Robson Steel was going to be a success, and Drew was going to get just what he wanted—a thriving company. And she was going to be an account supervisor. It was better than Christmas.

She walked down the hallway to Drew's room, wearing a sundress and sandals, her still-damp hair up in a loose bun. She knocked. “Drew? You ready for a little dinner and a little conversation?”

He took a long time opening the door, and when he did, she was surprised to find he wasn't ready. He was still wearing the same khakis and shirt, and if anything, he looked ill.

She stepped in, letting the door shut behind her. “What's wrong?”

“I don't feel like dinner. And I really don't feel like conversation.” His tone was curt, and his arms were crossed. His light blue eyes were bright with intensity. “Maybe we should just pick up in the morning.”

She frowned. Drew's vibe of displeasure was overwhelming. She supposed she could let him stew in it…but damn it, she'd done well today. Besides, retreat wasn't exactly a Jade Morrow trademark.

“You don't look too happy for a guy who just landed a two-year contract,” she said.

“I didn't just land a two-year contract.” The sharp angles of his face seemed even harsher in the poor hotel lighting. “You just landed it.”

She waited, but he stopped there, just staring at her. “You're welcome?” She tried smiling.

He glared at her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, letting out a huff of irritation. “Okay. Spit it out. What is up with you? I did what I promised. I showed you that my techniques
work. You said that you'd give me a chance. Is this your idea of backing up your word?” She quirked her head, studying him. “Because if it is, you suck at it.”

“Your technique?” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that's your version of asking for mustard and ketchup—use that
damned sexy honesty,
and the guys will do anything you ask, huh?”

She blinked at him. “Oh, no. Tell me you're not going there.”

“You were doing everything but pouring that guy coffee. You were hanging on his every word,” Drew said, and Jade felt the pit of her stomach turn to ice. “You were cooing over the guy like he was some kind of star quarterback and you were a cheerleader. So yeah, you landed the sale. The thing is, I don't know how you plan to ‘teach' me your techniques when I don't have a D cup!”

She stood, adrenaline pumping through her system like a flash flood. “You son of a bitch. You think that I only got that sale because of my looks? Because I've got a good body?”

He sent a searing look over her, surveying from head to toe. “I'm just saying you did what you had to do to prove me wrong. You did what you had to do to get the sale.”

“I did what I always do to get the sale,” she countered, her hands clenching into fists.

“I'm sure you did,” he replied. His tone was not complimentary.

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to slap that look of anger and derision off of his chiseled face. “Let me see if I understand this,” she said, her voice low and icy. “I gave you a sale today. But not because I did research, made a logical argument, or used any sales
techniques like showing why we were preferable or knowing what the customer needed, or anything that could be taught. I only got him to agree to a two-year deal because he liked how my cleavage looked.” She took a deep breath. “Is that what you're saying?”

He didn't say anything, but she saw his jaw muscles clench. He stared at her. Then, finally, he spoke up.

“Tell me. Honestly. You may be good at what you do, but if you were ugly, or a man…I just don't know.”

All thoughts of restraint—of sanity—left in that instant. “I see. Well. Let me share something with you, Mr. Robson.”

With that, she grabbed the front of his shirt and half tugged, half pushed him, until he lost his balance and fell onto the bed. She saw the look of surprise the second before she pounced on him, all arms, lips and anger.

It was a sensual attack. It wasn't sexual, it wasn't even hot. It was angry, and bitter, and intense. He was accusing her of using her body to get what she wanted…using her looks to “get away” with something he couldn't. She'd heard the argument before, either whispered behind her back or snidely hinted at to her face, in more situations than she'd care to remember. Now, from a man she was trying so hard to help, it was more than she could bear.

I'll show you how a woman uses her body to get what she wants.

She attached her mouth to his, her lips heated, her tongue probing. She wanted to make him want her, force him to feel something. She wanted to hurt him the way he'd just hurt her. She was feral, a primal
force. She felt as if she could kill him with passion if she weren't careful.

She didn't want to be careful.

He hadn't reacted at first, was simply stiff in shock as she started. But slowly, insidiously, she could feel his body reacting. His muscles, tensed almost for battle, eased, allowing her to mold herself to him. She straddled him, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other cupping the side of his face, holding him to her. His back bowed slightly, and as she stayed with his mouth, she felt her body press harder against his, her breasts crushing against his chest. She could feel more than hear his rumbling sigh.

She didn't know when the attack shifted. She was getting confused. She was angry, and hurt, and distraught. But when his lips started playing against hers, matching fierceness for fierceness, when their tongues tangled and his hands clutched her hips and she felt him grow hard between her legs, she started to feel other things. She felt her body start to instinctively react, growing hot…anger turning to pure arousal. And more than that. She felt yearning, wringing through her. She felt like crying. She felt like screaming. Instead, she just kept kissing him, their bodies stroking against each other as each moved. She buried her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck as she pulled him to her, closer. His breathing was uneven, ragged as hers.

She felt his hand smooth down her hip…and reach for the hem of her skirt.

Jade. What are you doing?

She pulled away, almost throwing herself off of him.

He sat up abruptly, his eyes looking dazed. “Jade, wait…”

“
That
is what my body is capable of.” She put a
hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating wildly…and feeling the ache behind it, as what she'd just done started to sink in. Sexual frustration warred with shame. “If I'd wanted to use my body to convince that guy Skip, I could have gotten him to order
ten
years' worth of steel, Drew. I could have gotten him to invest in your company. I could have made him do
anything.
So tell me again. Do you really think I used my body to get what I wanted?”

He stared at her, his breathing still rasping. “Jade…”

She pointed at him. “You're just like all those other jerks who think that I've got a pretty face and a hot body and nothing else. You think I'm incapable of getting anything without using my looks. News flash, Drew. I don't play that way. I don't
need
to. I'm not going to pretend that I don't know what I look like. And I'm not going to change how I look and wear sackcloth just to prove to idiots like you that I've got a mind, too. And whether you want to admit it or not, my mind is what got you the sale this afternoon, Drew!”

Drew's blue eyes were dilated, so large they almost looked black. “Now wait a minute…”

“Don't. Just…don't. This conversation is finished.” With that, she turned and stormed out, back to her own room. She had just about unlocked the door when the tears started. She locked it behind her.

What the hell have I done?

She had tackled a client. She'd made an ass of herself. She'd lost the account, and her promotion, and what the hell, let's just throw in some self-respect while we're at it, huh?

She felt sick.

She paced for a minute, her breathing shallow, her stomach queasy. She needed to talk to someone. Obviously not Betsy—with news like this? Jade couldn't believe what she'd just done.

No. This called for someone closer than that. She picked up her cell phone.

After four rings she heard the answering machine pick up. “You know who you've reached…and you know why I can't answer the phone. Talk to you later.”

Jade waited for the beep, then took a deep breath. “Hailey? I figure you're bartending tonight, but whatever time you get in, could you call me? I really need to talk. If I don't answer, check your e-mail. It's important.”

She hung up. She should have known Hailey would be at work. Unfortunately, there wasn't really anybody else she felt she could talk to.

She climbed onto the hotel bed, turning on the television with the remote and staring at the screen blankly. She would have to figure out how to get to the nearest airport. She would have to figure out how to explain this to Betsy. She would have to figure out how to save her career. She would have to figure this out alone.

She had gone through worse alone, she thought as channel after channel flashed across the television screen. She would get through this.

 

D
REW PACED THE CONFINES
of his hotel room, holding his cell phone. “Ken, she's got to go.”

He heard Ken sigh over the crackle of static. “What happened?”

Drew flashed mentally to seeing her descend on him, before his eyes had closed and his body had drowned
in sensation. He couldn't talk about that, not to Ken. Hell, he could barely get a grip on it himself.

“I just don't think she should be here. If we've got to pay the contract, we'll pay the damned contract, but I don't need to hear a bunch of bull about creative listening or sales techniques or anything. It's just crap. I don't need it.”

Ken paused for a second. “So. No sales.”

Drew cleared his throat. “We got a sale,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Really?” Ken's voice immediately went from grim to elated. “How good?”

“Two year. From Norinal.” Drew shook his head. “But that's not the point. The point here is…”

“Two years?” Ken interrupted. “You're kidding? Oh, wait. Norinal. Those are those bandits the sales guys had to bribe. How much of the store did we have to give away to get that one?”

Drew was really starting to feel uncomfortable—and irritated. “Ken, would you focus here?”

“That bad, huh?”

“We didn't give away anything. No freebies, no discounts. It's a straight two-year deal.”

“No kidding. Is it a small order?”

Drew gave him a number, and ignored Ken's low whistle. “Ken, would you focus?” he finally snapped.

“Why aren't you happier about this?”

“I'm glad we got the sale,” Drew said. “I wasn't even expecting it. I just wrote it off.”

Ken was silent for a second. Then he said slowly, “I almost hate to ask, but…did the woman who now ‘has to go' have anything to do with the sale?”

“That's not the point here. She's got to go because she doesn't have anything useful to teach me.”

“Come on, don't be so hard on yourself,” Ken said, completely misinterpreting his comment. “You could learn the sales stuff, if you really wanted to.”

Drew rolled his eyes in exasperation, but before he could correct his CFO, Ken plowed forward.

“I'm surprised that you let her work with you this long, honestly. And I'm glad she helped land the sale. In the first place—well, damn, you know we need the money. But you've always had a chip on your shoulder. I honestly figured you'd have her on the first bus out of town at Montecito.”

“It's not because she's a woman,” Drew said, wondering sickly if it was. He knew that he thought she'd played up to Skip. He'd been furious, and he hadn't wanted to think why. Was that it, though? Was he just a bigoted…

“No, not because she's a woman,” Ken said with a small laugh. “Because she's a consummate salesperson. The only person I've ever seen that was smoother than her when it came to closing the deal was your father.”

Drew felt his chest clench. “What?”

“You always hated it when your father got into salesman mode. You always thought the product was enough.”

“I still think that,” Drew muttered.

“Yeah, well, the product is what keeps the sale. But sometimes you need more than that to get in the door. I think your coach just proved that—a two-year with Norinal with no freebies? That's unprecedented.” Drew could hear Ken's impressed tone over the phone. “So do me a favor? No more talk about getting rid of her. I think she could be the best thing that ever happened to you, and more important, to Robson Steel.”

Drew winced. He'd been balking at her techniques, and her sales techniques. And he'd felt something else—close to jealousy—when she'd talked to Skip. He wasn't going to think about that now. But Ken was showing him that it wasn't Jade that was the problem. It was him, Drew, that was gumming up the works.

Too bad he hadn't talked to Ken before he'd shot his mouth off.

“Well, I won't bring it up,” Drew said, then realized—Jade might have other ideas.

“Good. Because without her help, I don't know if we're going to make it.”

Now Drew really started to feel his nerves fray a little. “What if she just decides not to stay, though?”

Ken laughed. “Are you kidding? That woman's a pit bull. It would take an army to get her to back off.”

“I don't know.”

Ken's laughter stopped abruptly. “What did you do?”

Drew closed his eyes. Ken knew him too well. “We had a fight after the sale.”