“Well, good morning, Miss Stacia. I wasn’t born yesterday and I am reasonably sure I know how to speak, so I can answer my own damn questions, thank you very much.”
She yanked him to a stop and scanned him. “What the hell are you wearing? I laid you out a perfectly nice outfit and you put on this?”
Unbelievable. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt, definitely not the ironed shirt and pants she had specifically taken home and pressed herself two nights ago. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed. If she wasn’t so outraged, she’d jump him and take him back to the bed immediately. “Where’s your tie? Did you sleep in those clothes?”
He glanced down at the rumpled clothes. “Of course not. I didn’t have time to iron. Actually,” he rubbed his jaw. “I don’t own an iron.”
“Well, I do and I ironed your clothes. They were hanging in your closet.”
He stared at her, comprehension dawning. “But I have nothing in the closet. Why would I go in there?”
She threw up her hands, irritation buzzing in her ears. “I told you yesterday when I dropped them off along with food for your fridge. You were too busy watching television.”
He pulled her into the small room off the hallway and slammed the door. “Lady, I was working on my swing, studying pitchers, and getting ready to do my fucking job. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“Well, you’d better make time because it’s not going away. Fortunately, I took the liberty of grabbing a second outfit. It’s in my office. Follow me.”
She yanked open the door and stalked down the narrow corridor, not checking to see if he was following. How could he be so cavalier about this? It wasn’t just his job, but hers too. She’d better make him aware of that before he got them both fired. At least she was prepared this time. Men. Honestly, sometimes they were just like children.
Once they were in her office, she slammed the door and gestured to the clothes hanging on the hook. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door, blocking any escape. “Change.”
He scowled at her. “I can do this on my own.”
She snorted. “Not likely. I’m not letting you out of my sight until the interview is over. Change.”
He folded his arms and sat on the desk.
She sighed. “Seriously? Are you shy? You walk around naked in locker rooms all the time. And believe me buddy, I’ve seen you naked. I’m not going anywhere. Move it.”
Someone knocked on the door. “Ms. Kendall? We’re waiting on you.”
She opened the door a crack and peered out. “We’re finishing our prep. Be right there.”
Jason heaved a sigh and started unbuttoning his shirt. Stacia’s mouth dried as he slowly revealed the muscular chest that she had thoroughly explored only a few night before. Her face burned and she closed her eyes, mentally counting to ten, trying to calm her racing pulse. She opened them and Jason was slipping the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the smooth tanned skin of his torso. She hadn’t fully appreciated him in the dim lighting of the hotel room, too eager for the main attraction. She had really missed out.
Her hands itched to trace the ridges of muscle, to feel the warmth of his skin, to taste…
She shook her head, clearing the images from her mind. Now wasn’t the time for sexual fantasies. She looked up and saw Jason staring at her, a smirk on his face, as if he could read her mind. His hand moved to his pants and her face flamed further.
She fumbled for the doorknob and turned it. “I, uh, think you have it. I’ll be outside.”
His laughter followed her out the door. “Coward.”
A few moments later, she had her breathing under control. Jason opened the door and slipped outside. “Better, boss?”
She ran her eyes over his body, looking for any flaws. Her eyes widened when she saw a telltale bulge in his pants. He grabbed her arm and stalked down the hall. “Stop looking at me like that or we’ll never make the press conference.”
She grinned, the day looking a little brighter than it had a few minutes ago. He was as affected as she was. Maybe she had a future as a femme fatale after all.
She stumbled along after him, trying not to trip in her heels. “Grouchy today, aren’t we? Okay, we’re not going to allow many questions. We certainly want to avoid any discussion of your personal life. So, don’t say anything for those questions, got it? If you’re asked, just grin and deflect it, or change the subject. Don’t give in to their baiting.”
“Relax, Stacia.” He stopped the headlong rush and grabbed her shoulders, stopping her words. “I’ve done hundreds, if not thousands, of interviews. I can handle this.”
A subtle whiff of expensive perfume and the sudden stiffening in Jason’s shoulders indicated that Miranda Callahan had just walked up. Stacia turned. The owner’s daughter was dressed in a navy blue pinstriped suit and followed closely by Cole Hammonds.
Jason stepped past her and held out his hand. “Ms. Callahan. Nice to see you again.” He nodded curtly. “Hammonds.”
Cole humpfed and shot Stacia a look. “Manners have improved. Slightly. Are you ready for the dog and pony show?”