Nadine waved him away and surveyed her space. She’d missed a box on top of an old wardrobe filled with woolen coats. She reached up, then higher on her tiptoes.
“Out of the way, short stuff.” Wes’s voice came from behind her, and all of a sudden, he was boxing her in against the sleek oak of the wardrobe.
It was that drunken night in the hall all over again, with his body firm against hers. His breath by her ear made her knees weak. If she shifted her eyes to the right, she would see that gorgeously muscledarm right by her face. She did, for one second. Then she stared back at the smooth wood of the cabinet to stop from wondering what would happen if she moved her head so her lips brushed his skin. Or turned around so they were face-to-face and close enough that she could feel him better than see him.
He pulled the box down. “Here,” he said as he handed it to her, looking totally unruffled.
That shook her out of her reverie. “Next time I want your help, I’ll ask for it.”
“As if you ever ask for help.”
He rolled his eyes, and that was it. That one incredibly small but massively obnoxious gesture did her in. It was the last straw and the match in the powder barrel and the nail in the coffin. She was frustrated and hot and tired and had no patience with him or with herself after that mental fantasy of kissing Wes’s arm. She’d had enough of his little digs, and she’d be damned if she was going to live through any more of it.
“That’s it.” She clapped her hands together.
“What’s it?”
“I’ve had enough of this. I’m done. You, downstairs.”
Wes heaved a sigh so heavy it was like he was dragging it up from the bottom of Lake Ontario, but he followed her down the stairs to the big table.
“All right, Barbault.” He pulled the chair out and slouched back, arms crossed, the very picture of a put-upon man. That was until she looked in his eyes. They were wary. “What’s this about?”
***
Wes was not thrilled to have what he could tell was going to be a major talk. He had documents to sort and feelings to repress. It had been a mistake to reach over her for that box. He’d known it the moment he’d touched her and found she’d made him feel the same as he had so many years ago. It made for a messy situation, given that they were constantlyat each other’s throats.
“We have to work on this project together, and I refuse to spend the time in a low-grade war,” Nadine said. “That means a reckoning. Here and now. You and me. We’re going to have it out.”
He sat up straight, feelings forgotten. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about us. I’m talking about when you stole my CBC internship.”
“When Iwhat? I didn’t steal anything.”
“You deliberately applied for it after I told you how much I wanted it. It’s not like we were friends, but that was low.”
“That was years ago.”
“It doesn’t matter how long ago it was! You screwed me over.”
“Yeah, like you’ve done so bad for yourself.” He exhaled. “First, I didn’t see your name on that internship. Second, I’d already applied by the time you told me because I’d heard about it from Professor Graham.”
“A likely story,” she said.
“Is that why you scooped me?” Wes couldn’t help his accusing tone.
“Which scoop?”
“‘Which scoop.’” Seriously, this woman. “The lobbyist story last year. You looked right at me to rub it in when you won at the journalism awards.”
“I did not!”
“You did so.” He could still see every detail. She was at the podium, with that black dress with the little bows and those red heels, wearing the thick silver bracelets she’d had forever. And she’d stared him down in total triumph, lovely and untouchable, while he was stuck in the audience, wanting nothing more than to be up there with her.
No. Up there instead of her. That was what he’d wanted. Right?
“The lights were in my eyes. I couldn’t see a thing, let alone you.” She glared at him. “You didn’t even come up and congratulate me likea normal person. You sat at your table talking to the woman with the blond pixie.”
