about being wrong. “I’m not going to make it easier for her.” James Harper loved a challenge.
Ms. Clare, please find attached reworked graphs and figures.
“About frigging time,” Bridie mumbled under her breath, though to be honest she was kind of surprised at the speed of his response. Normally no one in the Sydney office moved that fast. Thank you, Mr. Harper. Bridie tapped the keys quickly. “If he wants to be formal, I can be formal,” she muttered to herself. She had a killer headache, her favorite chocolate had run out of stock in the office candy machine and the café next door where she bought her bucket-o-coffee each day was closed “due to personal reasons”. “What a crap day.” Bridie banged away on the keyboard. Please ensure it does not happen again.
Or what?
Or I’ll… Bridie stopped typing. “Hmm, they never usually answer back.” What would she do exactly? It was different when people were scared of you, for you never had to justify yourself. And, basically Bridie could do nothing much if they messed it up again because she wasn’t in charge of them. She relied on them for data but they did not answer to her. Bridie had just made them believe they did. She liked things done the right way. Her way. If it’s correct I’ll leave you in peace.
Had a bad night?
What?
Broke up with your boyfriend?
Excuse me?
Knicker elastic too tight?
“What?” Bridie sat bolt upright at her desk. Who was this guy? She had heard someone new was going to shake up the Sydney office but she’d assumed he would be just another business suit barking out half-assed orders to inefficient staff on his way out to lunch at the golf club.
What’s your favorite color?
Why?
I want to know?
What has that got to do with work?
Humor me.
Black. Bridie shook her head in wonder. “Why am I even responding to this guy?”
Come on.
Red.
Favorite flower?
Why?
Just tell me. It will relax you.
How? Was he a mind reader? Bridie hadn’t been relaxed since the seventh grade. Some people didn’t do relaxation well. She was as tense as a bowstring.
You ask a lot of questions.
It’s my job. It wasn’t. It was her nature to be suspicious.
Will it kill you to tell me your favorite flower?
Daisies.
Really?
Why?
Old fashioned and sweet.
Bridie knew where this was going. She could be an absolute bitch at work when people pissed her off as the Sydney office did. They dragged the work day out with their inefficiency. And nothing like me, I suppose you’re going to say?
I don’t know you. You tell me about yourself.
Nope. Bridie had heard enough. James Harper was a charming man and the last person she wanted to play with. Men like that were players and she hated games where she wasn’t sure of the rules. Two minutes later as she was focusing on a column of figures, the phone rang. “Divisional Management, this is Bridie .”
“This is James.”
“Holy crap.” The man had a voice that sounded like sin and sex. It washed over her mind and seeped into her skin.
“I’m not sure crap is holy.”
Bridie slapped her forehead. “I said that out loud.” Bugger, I said that too.
“Yes. So what’s going on, Bridie ?”
The way her name sounded on his tongue made her thighs sweat and her heart beat madly. “Your office sucks.” Yes, that was better. Channel the office shrew within.
“Probably,” James conceded without offence. “But we’re working on it.”
“Work faster.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Some men just had the ability to make the simplest things sound sexy. “That it?” Bridie barked at him. She was annoyed at herself for going all gooey over a voice. He’s probably cross-eyed with a wart on his nose .
“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice.” The call ended.
Bridie leaned over and turned on her small desk fan. “Oh my.”
* * * * *
“Good morning, Bridie .”
“James.” She would have liked to say she was not hoping it was him calling but that was a lie. Bridie
Ms. Clare, please find attached reworked graphs and figures.
“About frigging time,” Bridie mumbled under her breath, though to be honest she was kind of surprised at the speed of his response. Normally no one in the Sydney office moved that fast. Thank you, Mr. Harper. Bridie tapped the keys quickly. “If he wants to be formal, I can be formal,” she muttered to herself. She had a killer headache, her favorite chocolate had run out of stock in the office candy machine and the café next door where she bought her bucket-o-coffee each day was closed “due to personal reasons”. “What a crap day.” Bridie banged away on the keyboard. Please ensure it does not happen again.
Or what?
Or I’ll… Bridie stopped typing. “Hmm, they never usually answer back.” What would she do exactly? It was different when people were scared of you, for you never had to justify yourself. And, basically Bridie could do nothing much if they messed it up again because she wasn’t in charge of them. She relied on them for data but they did not answer to her. Bridie had just made them believe they did. She liked things done the right way. Her way. If it’s correct I’ll leave you in peace.
Had a bad night?
What?
Broke up with your boyfriend?
Excuse me?
Knicker elastic too tight?
“What?” Bridie sat bolt upright at her desk. Who was this guy? She had heard someone new was going to shake up the Sydney office but she’d assumed he would be just another business suit barking out half-assed orders to inefficient staff on his way out to lunch at the golf club.
What’s your favorite color?
Why?
I want to know?
What has that got to do with work?
Humor me.
Black. Bridie shook her head in wonder. “Why am I even responding to this guy?”
Come on.
Red.
Favorite flower?
Why?
Just tell me. It will relax you.
How? Was he a mind reader? Bridie hadn’t been relaxed since the seventh grade. Some people didn’t do relaxation well. She was as tense as a bowstring.
You ask a lot of questions.
It’s my job. It wasn’t. It was her nature to be suspicious.
Will it kill you to tell me your favorite flower?
Daisies.
Really?
Why?
Old fashioned and sweet.
Bridie knew where this was going. She could be an absolute bitch at work when people pissed her off as the Sydney office did. They dragged the work day out with their inefficiency. And nothing like me, I suppose you’re going to say?
I don’t know you. You tell me about yourself.
Nope. Bridie had heard enough. James Harper was a charming man and the last person she wanted to play with. Men like that were players and she hated games where she wasn’t sure of the rules. Two minutes later as she was focusing on a column of figures, the phone rang. “Divisional Management, this is Bridie .”
“This is James.”
“Holy crap.” The man had a voice that sounded like sin and sex. It washed over her mind and seeped into her skin.
“I’m not sure crap is holy.”
Bridie slapped her forehead. “I said that out loud.” Bugger, I said that too.
“Yes. So what’s going on, Bridie ?”
The way her name sounded on his tongue made her thighs sweat and her heart beat madly. “Your office sucks.” Yes, that was better. Channel the office shrew within.
“Probably,” James conceded without offence. “But we’re working on it.”
“Work faster.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Some men just had the ability to make the simplest things sound sexy. “That it?” Bridie barked at him. She was annoyed at herself for going all gooey over a voice. He’s probably cross-eyed with a wart on his nose .
“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice.” The call ended.
Bridie leaned over and turned on her small desk fan. “Oh my.”
* * * * *
“Good morning, Bridie .”
“James.” She would have liked to say she was not hoping it was him calling but that was a lie. Bridie
Similar Books
Tending to Virginia
Jill McCorkle
A Winter's Wedding
Sharon Owens
Paladin Prophecy 2: Alliance
Mark Frost
Bed of Lies
Paula Roe
State Violence
Raymond Murray
Dark Craving: A Watchers Novella
Veronica Wolff
Date for Murder
Louis Trimble
Reclaimed (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 1)
Erica Ortega