5
Juliet stepped from the shower and dried off. Still feeling a bit cranky, she wiped steam from the mirror and wrapped her hair in the towel before moving to the walk-in closet. While reaching for her yoga pants, she tried not to look at the unpacked boxes still on the floor. Somehow her mother’s organization gene had not gotten passed down. More importantly, she just hadn’t had time.
No matter how hard she worked, she never seemed to be able to get ahead of the long list of items needing her attention. And now her workload had just increased exponentially. If that didn’t create enough stress, she faced office politics—a QA supervisor who seemed to resent the changes she implemented, and self-serving comments from Mr. GQ in the meeting, casting doubt on her ability.
She shoved her arms into the sleeves of the matching robe and yanked the belt closed, tying it tightly around her waist.
Her only consolation was that no doubt Alexa Carmichael had been kicked around on her way to the top as well and knew just how things were. She’d no doubt faced all this and more before attaining her level of respect.
There would always be men like Greer Latham, friendly in the parking lot and vicious in the boardroom. Thanks to her father, she’d learned to watch for men with ulterior motives whose only loyalty was to themselves. She dealt with these situations head-on, training herself to use before she got used.
The world was dog-eat-dog and she was nobody’s puppy chow.
Of course, the increase in production could be her chance to shine, she supposed. The effort required to keep on top of everything would be exhausting, but she’d move heaven and earth to pull it off.
She’d finished dressing and was lotioning her arms when the doorbell rang. Juliet scowled and flipped the lid closed on the Neutrogena bottle. Who could possibly be at her door this time of night?
She made her way down the hall and to the front door of her condo. Leaning forward, she peeked through the tiny security lens. Oh, great.
She clicked the lock and opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, that’s some greeting.”
“After today, what would you expect?”
“Oh, c’mon. May I come in?”
Juliet stepped aside, allowing Greer entrance. He was wearing jeans, a light-blue button-down, and a remorseful look. “Look, I’m sorry. Really. I only wanted to make sure you carefully considered everything that was at stake while in that meeting.”
Juliet pulled the towel from her head and shook out her wet hair. “You could have warned me that was coming. The deal points, I mean.”
“You know I couldn’t,” he explained in a tone Juliet considered dangerously close to what a person would use with a child. He followed her into the open kitchen area.
“I was about to make tea.” She grabbed the teapot from the stainless steel stove. “Want some?” She moved to the sink and turned on the faucet. “And I’m fully aware of the implications at work, thank you.”
Greer held up both hands. “Hey, I’m not the enemy, babe. I’m the one who told you about the job opening and arranged for that interview. Remember?”
Her hand slammed the faucet off. She turned. “I landed that position because I was qualified.”
Greer shook his head. “I know that. And let me remind you I’m not the one who decided to hide our relationship from everyone.”
“I told you. I’m not ready to go public.”
He looked at her dubiously. “Who cares what Alexa and everybody else thinks?”
Irritation swelled, causing her to choose her next words carefully. “It’s different for a woman at work. I don’t want anyone doubting my credentials because of our personal relationship. But that’s off point and doesn’t excuse your raising doubts about my ability to handle the increased production.”
Greer moved forward and placed his hands at her waist. “What do I have to do to convince you I’m your biggest fan? There’s no doubt in my mind you can hold your own at Larimar Springs—which is why I treated you no differently in that meeting than I would’ve any other person in that position.”
Juliet stared into his steel-blue eyes. Should she remind him he hadn’t put the vice president of operations through the wringer?
Greer’s fingers laced through her damp hair. “I’m not your father. You can trust me.”
She ignored the fact he smelled like soft leather and spice, and warm male skin. “This isn’t about my father.”
He leaned closer. She could feel his breath against her cheek, his chiseled chest against her own. He paused, slipped the teapot from her hand, and placed it on the counter.
Time seemed to slow down. Her legs trembled beneath her.
Outside the windows of her condominium, the lights of downtown San Antonio shimmered in the far distance. “You can trust me,” he whispered, taking her face in his hands.
As Greer’s lips melted into her own, Juliet shut her eyes and tried to remember why she’d ever doubted.