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I want to be or not, huh? That’s pretty tough talk.” He took a step back, when what he really wanted to do was step closer. She smelled good. Sort of vanilla-y, which was sexy but at the same time appetizing.
    I need not to be thinking of my sales coach as appetizing.
    He winced.
    Correction. I need not to be thinking of Jade Morrow as my sales coach.
    She followed him, not giving an inch, her arms crossed. “Listen. I know you don’t want me here, and that’s fine. As much as I love a two-hour drive from L.A., coming to your plant in the middle of nowhere isn’t fun for me, either. But I will keep coming here, every single day, and picketing your parking lot if I have to. I’m very serious about my job. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a client of Michaels and Associates, and you’re a client of mine. And yes, I’m going to help you whether you want it or not.”
    Her eyes were blazing. He sighed.
    â€œI don’t have time for this.”
    She still didn’t say anything.
    â€œFine. One hour. But I have a lot to do,” he said irritably. He was giving in. He was caving. What happened to the persona that was able to intimidate burlysteelworkers on the plant floor? He was a hard-ass. He was a rough boss.
    He was, apparently, a marshmallow.
    â€œWhen?” Her expression was bright and optimistic…and just a little bit smug. “And where?”
    â€œI have stuff to work on—I suppose I could break at seven,” he said. “And what’s wrong with here?”
    â€œToo much your turf,” she said firmly. “Business dinner. Let’s go somewhere else.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”
    â€œOf course you wouldn’t, but you’re coming around,” she said. “Come on. Neutral turf. Just tell me where to meet you. And hand over the slides.”
    He sighed. “All right. Seven o’clock at Grady’s.”
    â€œPerfect.” She waited a beat. “Slides?”
    He looked down at the pages of plastic in his hands. He’d have to scrap them anyway, as Ken had said. “They’re confidential,” he said, instead. She might be sexy as hell, but that didn’t mean he had to trust her.
    She rolled her eyes. “You signed a contract to pay us…and we signed a confidentiality agreement.” Her tone said, Like I’d break that? She let out a little huff.
    Slowly he handed over the slides, watching as she tucked them under her arm.
    â€œAll right. Seven it is then,” she said, walking toward the door. Then she stopped, looked over her shoulder for a second, her hips tilted, her expression one of sexy invitation.
    â€œYeah?” he said when she just stared at him.
    â€œI will say one thing about your sales presentation,” she said with a half smirk. “That suit works for you.”
    With that, she winked and walked out, leaving himzinging with sexual awareness—and crunched with frustration.
    This is such a bad idea. He didn’t have the time for even a flirtation with his sexy sales coach, much less…
    He groaned to himself.
    Sales coach. Damn it, she was brainwashing him already.
    Â 
    J ADE SAT at one of the booths at Grady’s bar and grill, just off the freeway. She had the slides laid out on the portion of the table that wasn’t occupied by the huge steaks they’d just been served.
    â€œNow, if you’ll look at this slide here…”
    Drew frowned at her. “What?”
    She muttered to herself, then raised her voice. “I said, if you’ll look at this slide here…”
    â€œWhat?”
    She glared at him. “Drew, did you know there was going to be a local band playing here tonight?”
    He grinned. “Local bands always play at Grady’s. Thursdays through Sundays.”
    She leaned back, not willing to let him see her more frustrated. “And I