The little dame slammed the door shut and stood in front of his desk with her tiny palms planted firmly on her hips—her sweet tiny hips.

“I know you said things will change around here, but I refuse to be a slave to you, Mr. Chapel! I am a professional reporter, and I will not be bullied by the likes of you.”

Her face was beet red, masking her beauty. Exotic amber eyes twitched, and her loose raven curls swayed around her face with every head movement.

He remained near the window, compressing his initial need to blow his top. His blood boiled with her blatant reproach. He’d never seen any female employee react that way. Mostly, he’d seen female employees pout and shed tears. This female did neither, and it stimulated him in a way he didn’t expect.

He narrowed his eyes. Sure, he remembered her. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d stood with her arms crossed and a sneer on her lips during his introduction speech. He studied her lips, her very kissable lips. His mind rattled with aversion and intrigue. He should’ve known then she’d be trouble.