Read Twisted in Tulips for Free Online Page B

push the door open for him or expel the breath locked in her lungs.
    Jace pulled the door open with a quick jerk.
    Her breath burst with a gasp. Her hand dropped.
    “It was you.” His voice, harsh and accusatory, whipped at her.
    “What was me?”
    “How?” Confusion tangled his brow. “How’d you know who I was? That I was meeting with Masters?”
    Oh. His missed interview yesterday. “I didn’t. Not until I saw Trevor with a file on you.”
    “And you took it upon yourself to convince him to call me again.” The harsh accusation was back in his words, as if he couldn’t decide what mood to be in or how to feel. If she had intervened, why should it anger him?
    “No.” She wouldn’t tell him how shaken up she’d been. It would probably just give him a reason to act more pissed off at her. “Trevor was in here yesterday morning, carrying your file. I mentioned that you’d helped me out of a situation.”
    “You didn’t ask him to call me? To give me a second chance?”
    “No.” His rage was rubbing off on her, stiffening her spine and making her want to fight, which was an odd sensation for her. She didn’t like to fight. She’d never had a man want to fight with her before. Fluttering filled her belly, much like it had when he’d kissed her in the bar. “I would have though if I’d thought it was necessary.”
    “I don’t need you intervening on my behalf.”
    “I didn’t, so you shouldn’t feel the need to interrupt me at work to behave like a miserable human being.” She shrugged, not feeling remotely as calm as the movement would suggest. “Not that you seem to know another way.”
    Conflicted with the desire to throttle him and drag him into the privacy of her office for a wicked round of quickie sex, she spun and walked away. He followed. Misty ignored the curious gaze of their receptionist Jenny, Leigh, their registration expert, and the clients waiting for appointments with other coordinators.
    Jace closed the door to her office behind them with deliberate slowness. When he turned, Misty suddenly sympathized with a defenseless creature cornered by a predator.
    “You’re an irritating woman, Misty Morgan.”
    “I guess you bring it out in me.” She could escape into the warehouse behind her office, but the idea of retreat stank of cowardice.
    “You should dress more like her.”
    “What? Who?” The man was impossible to keep up with.
    “The woman in that couple you were just with.”
    “Drea?” Misty considered the outfit Drea had been wearing—a long skirt with a high slit in the thigh and a snug-fitting blouse with the first few buttons undone. She looked down at herself with a similarly cut blouse. Her skirt was mid-thigh today, but that’s where Drea’s had split open at. “It was the same basic outfit.”
    Jace stood inches away, shrinking the size of her office with his attitude. “She’s in a committed relationship.”
    “Oooh.” Realization setting in, Misty drew the single syllable into five. “It’s okay for a woman to wear form-fitting outfits that showcase her legs if she’s wearing them for one man’s pleasure. But if she’s single and wears them for her own pleasure she’s less than virtuous.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “You did.” And damn if it wasn’t part of what was appealing about him. Her clothes irritated him and he didn’t like it. “It’s what you’ve been saying every time you mention my clothes, or even look at me.”
    “I have not.” He stepped closer.
    “It’s very chauvinistic of you.” She wanted to smile because she could see through his denial. He was going to snap like he had last night, and that had led to…deliciousness.
    He stepped closer still. Close enough to touch. “I am not a chauvinist.”
    “A chauvinist with archaic and conflicting views on women.”
    “You’re irritating.”
    “So you’ve said, but consider yourself as the source.”
    “You’re mouthy.”
    “You’re not exactly tight lipped