Accidental Rivals_An Office Romance Read online

  I know I don’t technically have to watch. I just can’t help it. Why does she have to be so… her?

  It’s not like I’ve ever had trouble with women—far from it. Even now, I catch three passing coworkers checking me out. I’m used to it. I’m not being big-headed. It’s just a fact of life. If I decided I wanted a little company tonight, it wouldn’t be too hard to convince any of the single women in the office to join me.

  My gaze drops to the straight set of shoulders marching ahead of me. But this one. This Sienna. She acts like she’s untouchable, like she has no time for anything as basic as sexual needs. She’s so far above mere mortals like me. That’s probably my biggest problem with her.

  We reach her wannabe office first, as mine is at the other end of the floor. Thank God, I’m not checking her ass out anymore when she stops suddenly and turns around to glare at me. I don’t need her accusing me of harassment.

  She sighs, like she’s the only one with a problem.

  I barely manage to hold my tongue to keep from asking if I’m making her late for the surgery to get the stick removed from her ass.

  “I guess we should take some time to go over a plan for this,” she says, making sure to sound as bored as possible.

  “Yes, I guess so. I should be able to clear some time today.”

  Her eyes roll. It’s clearly a gesture she’s practiced throughout her life. “Dinner tonight. I’ll send you a calendar request. We can talk it over then.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  She rewards me with another eye roll before stepping into her makeshift office and closing the door with a decisive snap of the latch.

  She’d better not plan on acting that way throughout our time together, but something tells me she will. She’ll make me feel like this is the ultimate inconvenience. Like she’s supremely put out by this. She has to be the most self-centered person I’ve ever met.

  Which is saying something, because I’ve known my share. Without warning, completely and inappropriately, an image of her sour mouth wrapped around my cock slips into my head. Immediately, my cock twitches with interest.

  Fuck!

  I jam my fists into my pants pockets and continue to my desk, grateful she can’t see the way she’s affected me. It would be a power trip for her to know I’m secretly lusting after her. Which is extremely annoying.

  She’d better not plan on continuing to act that way throughout our time together, but something tells me she will. She’ll treat me like this is the ultimate inconvenience, like she’s supremely put out by this, because she’s the most self-centered person I’ve ever met.

  Which is saying something, because I’ve known my share.

  I jam my fists into my pants pockets before continuing to my desk, grateful that she can’t see the way she’s unnerved me. I don’t usually react to women like this and I don’t like showing my hand so easily… not to someone like Sienna. How am I supposed to rush through this job and still do it the right way when she’s a part of it?

  At least I have a door to close behind me, shutting out the rest of the office for a while. They don’t need to see me sitting there with my head in my hands. It would ruin the image I’ve put together over the years.

  I guess I have no choice. I can’t refuse Rodney. I need this sale. Not for the commission. She’s welcome to it all if she’ll just let me take the credit for it. I have my reasons for needing this sale on my resume and it’s nothing to do with money. Worst part is, I know I could close this sale on my own. No point asking her to let me make the sale on my own in exchange for all the commission. Knowing the way she is, she’ll want to take all the credit, all the commission, and my head on a platter.

  There’s got to be a way to get around her.

  An idea starts to bloom in my mind, one which probably isn’t completely fair, but hey, all’s fair in love and war and real estate. I don’t feel too bad about it, as I’ll let her keep all the commission.

  Anyway, instinct tells me she’d do the same to me if she had enough imagination.

  Sienna

  So…here I am. Doing something, I thought I’d never do—have dinner with one of my coworkers in a fairly intimate, romantic restaurant. The fact that it’s Zack sitting across from me doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable with the situation. If anything, it just about turns my stomach.

  I’ve been trying all day to figure out just what it is that makes me dislike him so much. It’s more than competition, since I’ve been a competitive person since the day I was born. I’m not the type to begrudge others their success, either. That’s petty, and I’m not a petty person.

  It’s like he brings out every single one of my worst qualities, qualities I would rather pretend aren’t there. Why would I want to spend time with a person who does that to me? I tell myself it’s all right then, to wish this dinner were over.

  Even though we’ve barely begun.

  “How’s your wine?” he asks, nodding at my mostly-full glass.

  “Very nice,” I murmur distantly, observing the easy way he sits so casually in his chair while making it look as though he’s posing for a magazine ad. Men’s suits or luxury watches, something like that, or maybe a high-priced liquor. He’s removed his tie and the first two buttons of his starched white shirt are open to reveal a tanned throat leading to what I can only imagine is a tanned chest.

  Oh, my God. I can’t believe that thought crossed my mind. I just need more wine.

  No, on second thought. Anything but that. Maybe a cold shower. Shame, they don’t offer those at the restaurant.

  His icy eyes are more striking than ever in the candlelight. What was I thinking, picking a place with candles on the tables? But who thinks to check on things like that when they’re making a reservation? And how was I supposed to know I would care? I look away and catch a woman watching me. She seems, well, envious. I look away quickly. Oh dear, everybody here probably thinks we’re a couple. This is such a joke.

  “Feeling any better about the listing?” he asks, sipping his Scotch.

  I frown, waiting for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t I dive in, “Who says I didn’t already feel good about it?”

  “Oh, come on.” He grins, shaking his head. “Let’s put our cards on the table, shall we?”

  “By all means,” I agree, leaning slightly forward.

  “We both know it’s going to be difficult, if not impossible, to share this listing. Neither of us takes well to teamwork. That’s not criticism,” he adds, speaking quickly when he sees my eyes widen at his words. “I’m speaking for both of us right now. I know how I am, and I’m not keen on sharing the glory. I can only imagine you feel the same way, considering the record you have with the company. We’re the cream of the crop.” He lifts his glass ever so slightly, as though to toast me.

  I return the gesture. For once, we’re being honest with each other. “Your record is impressive,” I allow, still eyeing him up. What’s he getting at?

  “Thank you.” He returns the glass to the table and folds his hands. “With that being said, I think there’s only one cut-and-dried solution to the situation in which we’ve found ourselves.”

  “Oh? I’m all ears.”

  His smile widens.

  Uh-oh. There’s the wolf I saw this morning. He’s trying to steer me in the direction he wants this to go. I steel myself for what’s about to come out of his mouth—though there’s no way I could have predicted just how ridiculous it would be.

  “This will go much easier for both of us if you agree to step down and give me the listing. In return, I’ll guarantee that you can keep the whole commission.”

  And the way he says it! As though he expects me to go for it? I think that’s the most surprising part of all.

  I blink. Hard. More than once. He’s not a stupid man, not by a long shot. Why, then, would he believe it would be so easy to steamroll me? Unless he’s joking. But when he doesn’t say anything to make me think he was kidding, a laugh bubbles
out of my throat. It comes out before I can stop it.

  And it’s enough to knock his wolfish smile crooked.

  Good.

  “You’re not serious. Please, tell me you’re not serious.” I say when I manage to calm myself down before I end up making a scene.

  “Of course, I am. I wouldn’t joke about something this important.”

  Looking at his unamused face I take a long swig of my wine. I’m going to need to fortify myself if this is the way the night is going to go. “All right, then.” I put down the glass and sit up straighter in my chair. If he wants to play, we can play. “Let’s get this out of the way right now: I will not be stepping down. I will not request another listing. While your offer of the entire commission is very attractive, I think I’ll pass since I want the glory just as much as you do. While I have to admit I’m not thrilled to pieces over the idea of our working together, that’s just the way this unfolded. We don’t have much time to get it done, and it has to be done right. So let’s spare each other and stop wasting time talking about things which will never happen. All right?”

  It’s his turn to blink and look surprised by my forthrightness.

  I get the feeling he’s not used to being challenged or refused. Is there actually a world in which he’d make a statement like that and get his way? There must be, or else he would allow my laughter to roll off his back instead of appearing so genuinely shocked that I turned him down.

  No wonder he walks around with his nose in the air. Nobody’s ever challenged him before. He’s in for a wake-up, if that’s the case.

  He shakes his head ever so slightly, as though he’s shaking off the setback, then smiles again, but this time, he looks a bit sheepish. “You can’t blame me for trying, can you?”

  Mr. Charming, I note to myself. Is this his new tactic? “No, I guess I can’t,” I allow, watching him closely.

  “Right, might as well get down to some work then,” he says evenly.

  Is he really going to give up that easily? I don’t think so. Even so, we manage to get some work done. He appears to buckle down when discussing the strategy we should put in place. I have to admit, he knows his stuff. I’ve wondered in the back of my mind for a long time whether his success was based solely on his looks and charm. It can’t be an accident that most of his biggest sales have involved women.

  If anything, that would’ve been a comfort, blaming his excellent record on a fluke; the fact that he happens to be born handsome. Not so. He’s a smart guy, cunning too, and a hard worker. Sometimes, I see him leave at the same time I do. Damn it. I don’t want to admire him.

  “I’ll call up the photographer and set up a photo shoot for tomorrow afternoon. Then we can get the listing up tomorrow and start rolling,” he suggests.

  “So long as you can guarantee your guy will take the best photos possible, because we could always use my go-to.”

  “I take it you’ve never seen any of my listings,” he says with a smirk.

  “Oh, I have.” Have I ever. Why wouldn’t I look over the work of my rival? And yes, that’s how I see him, even if we work for the same company. “And I’m telling you, I hope you can vouch for the quality of these pictures.”

  His laughter surprises me—and from the look on his face, it surprises him as well. “Touché. But not to worry. We’ll present it like the showplace it is.”

  “Good.” I can’t help but smile a little as I raise the wine glass to my lips. It’s a relief to know we’re on the same page, for the most part, and moving forward.

  The food arrives, and at the right time too. We were about to hit one of those awkward silences. He smiles charmingly at the waitress and I have to wonder about him. What’s he all about? I’d rather boil myself in oil than dare ask. I still don’t trust him, and I wouldn’t put it past him to take my curiosity as a sign of something deeper.

  But he seems just as curious about me too. “So what drives you to be as good as you are?” he asks, flashing that winning smile.

  It surprises me that he doesn’t bother to disguise his interest, though. I’d rather die than let him know that I secretly find him distractingly attractive. I clear my throat before speaking, “I’ve always been an overachiever, before I even knew what the word meant,” I admit, thinking back to my days in elementary school. “For as long as I can remember, I was that nerdy kid who asked for extra credit work, just to boost my grade. I mean, if I could get all A’s, why not try for a solid row of A+?”

  He chuckles, stroking his square chin.

  It’s the sort of chin I have always wanted to punch or run my fingers down. Damn. Where did that come from? I pick up my glass, take a huge swallow, and nearly choke.

  “Are you all right?”

  I feel my cheeks heat up as I wave his question away. I bet he would love it if I choked and died right here. “Fine. I’m fine.”

  “I guess I was much the same way as you,” he admits, picking up his knife and fork. “Looking back, I guess I was pretty insufferable.”

  You’re pretty insufferable now. Fortunately, that thought remains a silent one in my head. “So you get where I’m coming from.”

  “Better than you know.” He grins. “It doesn’t surprise me, though.”

  My fork stills on the way to my mouth. “What doesn’t surprise you?” I ask suspiciously.

  He shakes his head. “How alike we were from the start. There had to be a reason why you caught my attention. And not just because you’re such a star in the office, either.”

  Darn him. I feel the heat burn up from my throat into my cheeks and all over my chest. It has to be the wine. Red wine always does this to me. Quick… say something to cover the obvious innuendo. “Funny. I thought I would’ve caught your attention because I outsold you last year.”

  “Ouch.” He’s smirking as he raises his glass to his lips, holding my gaze over the rim.

  I wish I could stop grinning. But then again, he’s smiling, so I am. Why be mean or nasty? There’s no need to be. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” I warn, but I’m still sort of smiling, so the weight of my message is inevitably lost.

  “We’ll see. I’ve found that flattery, when used correctly, can at least get one’s foot in the door. What a person chooses to do once their foot’s in the door, well…that depends on the skill of the person we’re talking about.” He shrugs, one eyebrow raised, as he butters his roll.

  God, he has really nice hands. Big, and capable and I love men with strong wrists. The black strap of his watch peeks out of his sleeve. Very sexy.

  Wait. What’s happening right now? Unbeknownst to me my whole posture has changed. I’m leaning forward in a relaxed way and maybe even enjoying the conversation. This isn’t what I’d planned on. I don’t need to enjoy his company. In fact, that’s the worst thing I can do, because it’s just a hop, skip and a jump from there to falling under his spell.

  He’s doing this on purpose, isn’t he?

  I eye him up as I chew slowly, glad to have the chance to get my hormones in check. Yes, he’s definitely more friendly and personable than he’d acted earlier, and much more so than he’s ever been before. Plenty of grins, jokes, and more than a little bit of flirting.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been flirted with, but I remember how it goes.

  I can’t believe he almost reeled me in, the snake.

  “What would you say to dessert?” he asks, offering a smooth smile. “We could always share something really wicked, if you want to. You don’t look like you overindulge.”

  Instead of answering, I wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin and signal for the check. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t comment on my body or dining choices,” I inform him while looking for my wallet.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” I reply in a clipped and businesslike tone. “I didn’t ask for your opinion on my body, or whether or not it looks as though I make a habit of overindulging. So, please. Let’s keep this professional.”
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  “I don’t understand,” he insists, all innocence. “What happened? I thought we were having a nice time, for once.”

  “We were.” Maybe a little too good of a time. Maybe that was exactly what he’s been counting on, getting me to loosen up and fall under his spell, so he can pounce on the listing and leave me in the dust. There’s no other explanation for his sudden change of heart. He went from telling me to leave the listing alone to telling me he likes my body, for all intents and purposes.

  “What happened?” he asks again.

  Instead of telling him I’m on to his game, I shrug it off. “I remembered I have a lot of work to do when I get home…and you do too, no doubt,” I add on handing my card over. “You have to call that photographer.”

  “Wait a second.” He reaches for his wallet.

  I signal for him to stop. “Don’t worry about dinner,” I murmur.

  He’s overwhelmed, flabbergasted, struggling to catch up as I stand with my purse, intent on following the server to the register. The sooner this is over, the better. I pass him by without another look. I wouldn’t accept a meal from that snake for anything. Not even this listing all to myself. I wouldn’t want to be in his debt.

  The creep.

  Sienna

  I wake up the next morning, as I normally do… surrounded by work. I must’ve fallen asleep with the laptop open beside me, the phone next to my pillow. I was up until late in the night, sending emails to any contacts who could come through with leads on a buyer. They’re used to getting these messages from me at all hours of the morning, but it’s not as if I don’t keep our relationship warm outside of asking for favors. I scratch their backs whenever I can too.

  It takes a second for the fog to clear, and then I realize what woke me. The buzzing of my phone, signaling a text. The thin beams of light coming in through the mostly-drawn drapes tells me I’ve slept a little later than usual. That one glass of wine sure did me in. Sure enough, on picking up the phone I find that it’s past eight. Practically unheard of for me.