“Don’t call me that,” she nearly growled.

“Can I have one?”

“Uh, maybe later.” She didn’t want to open them right now, not with this audience. She wanted to be able to concentrate and enjoy the joy that the unveiling—and then the tasting—would give her.

“Fine. Spoil-sport.”

“Sorry,” she said even though she wasn’t. “I’m buried in work right now.” This too was a lie. All she had to finish was a single spreadsheet, but she still wanted to get it done. She moved some folders onto the top of the box as if that might protect it from prying hands or eyes.

Miranda started back to her alcove but then stopped and spoke toward the hallway. “Samantha’s secret admirer has struck again.”

“Oh, really?” Denise came into view. “Girl, I’m starting to think you’re sending these gifts to yourself just to impress us.”

A weird rage bubbled up inside of Samantha. This was unusual for her, and it was a quite unpleasant feeling. She wasn’t sure how to deal with it. She stared at the computer screen, her jaw clenched.

Miranda returned to the counter. “Isthatwhat’s going on?” she said as if she’d just solved a charming mystery.

They were the worst detectives in the world. Miranda had just said that Dean’s Sweets were incredibly expensive. Now she thought that Samantha’s broke butt could afford them? Samantha rolled her eyes.

Denise cackled. “She doesn’t deny it. Think about it. What guy spends this much money on a girl when he doesn’t even know if she likes him?” Her tone drifted deeper into disdain with each word.

“Are you still trying to figure out who it is?” Miranda asked, and Samantha knew she was baiting her.

“Please, guys, I’m trying to work.”

“Please, guys, I’m trying ...” Denise’s imitation made her sound like an old hag.The rage in her gut rose hotter and higher. Denise laughed at her own performance. “Share your fancy chocolate with us, and we’ll go away.”

That wasn’t even true. Denise might not know she was lying, but she was. She was never going to go away.

Miranda reached over the counter and moved the folders off the red box.

Without realizing she was going to do it, Samantha swung her arm up from her keyboard, sliced through the air, and slammed her palm down on the top of the box hard enough to dent it.

The sight of that dent was almost more than she could bear. It had been such a beautiful box. So dignified. She never had anything dignified.

“Whoa!” Miranda backed away dramatically. “Overreact much?”

Samantha shot to her feet. “Leave me alone!” she cried, so loudly it was almost a scream, so loudly that it hurt her throat. “Can’t you just leave me alone!” Her whole body shook.

The rage slid away, replaced by the sickening embarrassment she felt when she saw the look on their faces.

“Whoa,” Miranda said, backing up as if Samantha was a crazy person wielding a machete.

“What’s going on out here?” One of the partners appeared at the edge of the room.

“Not sure,” Denise said sweetly. “Seems Samantha’s having some sort of psychotic break.”

Rage started bubbling again.

Steve’s eyes traveled between the three of them for a nearly unbearable amount of time. Then he scratched his cheek. “Samantha, can I speak with you for a moment?”

She forced herself to exhale and came out from behind her safety counter. As she walked by Denise, the cold woman gave her a smirk that really needed to be slapped off.

Samantha stepped into Steve’s office and gently shut the door. “I’m sorry—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “So you finally lost it on Miranda, huh?”

MirandaandDenise she thought, but she knew that he and Denise were a little too friendly for her to get away with that comment. She didn’t knowhowfriendly, and she didn’t want to know. “Yeah. Sorry.”


Tags: Robin Merrill Romance