The slight whiff of the perfume she always seemed to wear announced her presence in the vicinity even before he heard that annoyingly lyrical Southern drawl of hers. Marcos turned to face her. “You made the dessert.” It was not a question so much as a statement of disbelief. “Yes.” Separated by a couple of feet, Marcos studied her for a long moment. Her gaze met his, blatantly re turning his stare. Marcos frowned, doing his best to look distant and unapproachable, mainly because he would have preferred being neither. And that, as far as he was concerned, was totally unacceptable. After all, he was her boss, not to mention that he was older than she was and that they came from two totally different worlds. His people had to work for everything they had, hers had been born with silver spoons in their mouths. Anything he might have even vaguely entertained was doomed before it ever unfolded—he just had to make certain that it didn’t even try. The best way he knew how to do that was to make her want to quit.
What do You think about Fortune's Just Desserts (2011)?
