to you,’ not the other way around. So feel free to give me the silent treatment. Probably easier, anyway.”
Why did every word out of this man’s mouth have to be about proving his dominance? “You had no right to pull me out of the terminal and put me on this plane.”
“I did you a favor,” he said calmly in his deep, slow voice, oozing with loathsome, annoying confidence.
“A favor? Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? The entire terminal thought I was some mad terrorist woman being arrested.”
“Your flight was delayed by seven hours. I simply asked Jim and Stan to offer you a ride.”
“They didn’t give me a choice,” she growled.
“Perhaps because I offered them box seats for the Super Bowl if they persuaded you successfully.”
Taylor shook her head. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped. She just wanted to kick him. Really, really hard. In his man parts.
He gestured toward the seat behind her and took the other seat for himself. “And, since you’re already here, why not take ten minutes to hear what I have to say?”
“Do I have a choice?” She looked down at him expecting to hear…
“No.”
Shocker. But okay. Fine. That would give her the satisfaction of watching his face when she turned him down. Again. She wasn’t afraid of him. Okay, maybe a little, but not enough to let him bulldoze over her.
I’m not your mound of dirt, buddy.
“All right.” Taylor sat in the first row, opposite the aisle from Mr. Wade, and turned her body to face him. “Speak.”
He stretched his long, muscular legs into the aisle and then rubbed his face, making a deep, throaty groan.
The raw, masculine sound suddenly triggered a very erotic image in her head—specifically, of Bennett Wade pleasuring himself, his thick, long cock in his hand, while he groaned in that gravelly voice.
Holy, crap. What’s the matter with me? Completely embarrassed by her unwelcome, highly sexual thoughts, Taylor crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, searching for any distraction she could find. The floor, the beige ceiling—oh look! Magazines.
“Ms. Reed?” Mr. Wade held his snapping fingers in her face. “Are you even listening to me?”
Oh crap. Had he been speaking while she’d been picturing him naked with an enormous erection? Oh, the shame.
“No, I was too busy thinking about how to thank you for this favor,” she lied.
He stared for a moment, and then his neutral expression turned into a bitter scowl—brows furrowed, full lips smashed together, and eyes locked on her as if she were a dirty little bug he might squash just for pleasure. It was then that Taylor noticed how even his posture changed when he became upset. His spine got straighter, his large chest inflated, and his jaw muscles flexed with tension. Maybe that was his vibe-setting trick. He used his size to subconsciously make others feel smaller. Add to that his cold, unwavering stare and deep, authoritative voice, he could scare the crap out of a Navy SEAL.
“Ms. Reed, don’t provoke me.”
“Provoke you?” she asked innocently.
“Is your brain waterlogged from standing in the rain?” he asked.
Gasp. “No. Is yours?” she fired back.
“I guess I was wrong about you.”
“Wrong about what?” What had he said? And dammit, how could she have missed it?
“I thought the woman I met in Phoenix had a pair of balls on her. I thought she was the kind of person who perhaps enjoyed a challenge.”
“I happen to love challenges,” she countered firmly. “I simply didn’t hear—”
“So you accept coming to work for me?”
“What? Absolutely not,” she said.
“You afraid? Or just trying to milk more money out of me?”
What a horrible thing to say! “No and no. I’m not interested in your money, and I don’t want to work with you—”
“For me. Work for me,” he corrected.
“Or for you!”
“And why not?” he said, in a perfectly controlled voice.
“Because you are an insensitive prick who only cares about making money. Because I’ve seen how you treat people, and ever since the day I met you, I realized you read me completely right. I was one of those people who did nothing but complain, and it was time to step up. I thought that meant creating my own company to help assholes like you behave like real human beings, but I’ve come to realize that’s a complete joke because men like you only give a crap about yourselves. So why bother caring about the lives of the people who work for you, even though it could actually