“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” he asked, a smile forming as he took in the obvious concern on her face. “You’re not afraid of anything but living,” he said.
With those words, he left the office, leaving Darcy standing in the middle of the room with her mouth hanging open.
“I’ll see you back here at four,” he called out to her from the hallway. And then he was gone.
Darcy stood outside his office at four that afternoon, seething with frustration. She wasn’t afraid of living! She was waived in by Donna who was shutting down her computer. “Go on in. He’s expecting you. Would you remind him that I’m leaving early today?” she asked.
Darcy nodded and stormed through the doorway. Over the past six hours, she had convinced herself that he wasn’t as sexy as she’d remembered. And that he wasn’t as tall or exciting. He was just a mean, patronizing man who thought he had all the answers and could shove his opinion on anyone else. He wasn’t all he was cracked up to be, she told herself as her feet carried her quickly into his office.
Unfortunately, when she pushed the door open wider and forged to the middle of the office, she felt like she was hit with a ton of bricks by his presence all over again. He really was one of the most attractive, vital and sexy man and his sharp eyes took in everything, stopping her in her tracks as she watched him talk on the phone.
She stood there for a moment and regrouped. Okay, she told herself, he was super sexy and probably one of the most interesting man that she’d ever met. No, she wasn’t being honest with herself. He was the most attractive man she’d ever met. But she was only twenty eight. She was young and there were lots of men she hadn’t met yet.
He hung up the phone and turned to her. “Ready?” he asked. He took in her slim khaki slacks and cream, turtle-neck sweater, trying to keep his eyes off her breasts that were outlined by the soft fabric. Her eyes were a fiery green and her hair was pulled back by a clip at her nape, the curls laying against her shoulder and falling over her right breast. She flipped it behind her before she sat down and he was disappointed, liking the mahogany tresses where they were.
“Sure,” she said and handed him a sheaf of papers. “Here are my thoughts on execution,” she said tightly.
“Have a seat,” he said, indicating the chairs in front of his desk.
Darcy sat down and stared back at him, daring him to find anything wrong with her ideas.
He read through the pages, calling out points and making suggestions, changing an approach in some cases. Darcy lost her anger and scribbled notes all over the pages, wishing she could contradict his comments but he was right in almost every case and she kicked herself for not thinking of the issues before he did.
After two hours of back and forth discussions, Michael finally pushed the papers aside and sat back in his chair. “Okay, want to discuss why you were so angry when you first came in here?”
Darcy was still reeling from the ideas he wanted incorporated. So the change in topics took her a moment to assimilate. “I’m sorry?”
Michael leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “When you first came in?” he reminded her. “You seemed as if you were hot for a fight,” he continued.
“I wanted to know what you meant by your last comment,” she said.
He smiled, already knowing that was what had bothered her. “About being afraid of living?” he asked.
Darcy nodded.
“Well, why don’t you tell me what your plans were for tonight?”
She looked confused, not sure how her evening plans were relevant to their discussion, but answered him anyway. “I was going to work on this briefing.”
“Point made,” and he raised his finger, ticking off an imaginary point in the air. Darcy’s brows drew together in frustration and confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“You stay inside your office, afraid of going out and finding something more interesting to do. You might actually find it, you know,” he said.
She bristled at his comment, not liking how he was painting her personality. “I like my job,” she said defensively. “I can’t believe you of all people would be criticizing me for working long hours.”
“ATI wants your mind, not your life. My personal philosophy is that everyone should work to live, not live to work. I like my job too, otherwise, I’d do something else. But I’m not going to dedicate every waking hour to doing it,” he said. “Besides,” he continued, “I’ve found that employees are more effective when they have outside interests. It keeps the creative juices flowing,” he explained.
“I have outside interests,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.
“What are they?” he challenged. He liked the way she didn’t bow down to him. There were very few people who had the courage to defy or challenge him but he suspected this woman would do it just on general purposes. That thought made him smile in anticipation.
“I can’t think of any off the top of my head,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, “but I do have outside interests.”
Michael laughed, delighted with her spirit. “Prove it,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, prove it.”
“How?”
“Come out to dinner with me tonight and don’t talk about work in any way,” he said.
“What?” She was terrified at the idea of spending time with him outside the office. The idea sent her into a panic. It was one thing to see him in the office where work was a barrier. But in a private setting? She started trembling at the idea.
“You heard me. Can’t do it, can you?” he said, leaning forward on his elbows.
She had to immediately rise to the challenge, but didn’t understand why. “Of course I can,” she said without hesitation.
“Good,” he countered. “Then let’s go,” he said and stood up.
“I’m sorry?” she asked standing up automatically when he did then scrambling to catch the papers that were falling off her lap.
“Dinner? No shop talk?” he said, then leaned over his desk again. “Need to back out and head back to the safety of your office?”
“No!” Darcy said, but wasn’t sure exactly what she was signing up for.
“Great! Then let’s go.”