Reid’s eyes narrowed. “He won an Academy Award last year.”
“He did.” I nodded smugly.
“Claimed his life was changed after seeing a bright white light after nearly getting hit by a car.”
“He was high.” I rolled my eyes. “And the car was electric. It ran over his toe and he collapsed, but I was sick of his crap, so I made up a story about how he should have died and was clearly spared so that the world would be a better place . . . gifted.” I rehearsed the speech all over again word for word as I locked eyes with Reid. “Gifted with the voice of angels and the heart of a saint, this is your wake-up call to be the best actor in the world. Are you going to take it?” I wiped a fake tear from my cheek and gave him a smug grin as I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms.
Reid stared at me, dumbfounded. “Clearly they gave the Academy Award to the wrong person.”
I examined my chipped fingernails. “Like I said, I’m the best.”
He grunted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“My track record is pristine,” I said in a clipped voice.
“Even if your appearance is—” He waved a hand in front of me.
“Awesome?” I added.
“I was going to say lacking.” He scrunched up his nose. “Seriously, though, what’s that smell?”
I rolled my eyes. “My mocha spilled and I may still have some shampoo in my hair because the electricity went out in my building.”
“No, no, that’s not it.” He leaned forward, his nose almost colliding with my neck as he inhaled deeply. “You smell like . . . cinnamon?”
I rejected my body’s natural reaction—the same reaction that had me wanting to lick the side of his neck to see if it tasted as good as it looked. Down, girl. “It, uh—I always put cinnamon on my whipped cream.”
He jerked back and grinned, his full mouth making me dizzy with desire. “Do you now?”
I stood on wobbly legs. “I’m off-limits, just so you know. Flirting with me will get you nowhere. In fact, I’ll probably just end up charging you more because you piss me off.”
Reid leaned his muscled body back against the chair. “Why are you the best? Really? You don’t look the part—no offense.”
Rejection slammed into me as I lifted my chin in defiance. “I’m the best because none of my clients can charm their way into my pants. I’m the best because I take my job seriously. I’m the best because I have an obsession with expensive shoes and purses and really need a paycheck in order to get them. I’m the best because I am. It’s as simple as that. If you have a problem with me, then there’s the door.” I slammed the contract back on the table and leaned forward, chest heaving. I hadn’t meant the all-out verbal attack, but by his stunned expression it must have worked.
Reid gulped. “Okay. I can work with that.”
Relieved, I almost collapsed against the chair. I really did need him to sign with me. I wanted that promotion so bad I could taste it. I deserved something after spending countless hours answering three a.m. phone calls and working fourteen-hour days. I loved my job, but getting a promotion meant I could finally relax rather than bust my ass like I had been since getting hired. I needed to prove myself one last time. “Fine, I’ll get your information from Ren and meet you on set later this afternoon.”
Reid stood and shoved his hands in his suit pockets. I had a brief fantasy of doing the same. Not to be weird, but he had nice hands and the pants were getting all the touching. “Maybe fix your shoes before then.”
“Fine.”
“And your hair.” He pointed.
I huffed.
“A little makeup . . .” He eyed me up and down. “Or a hat, a hat might work.”
I gritted my teeth and let out a growl. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” He flashed a beautiful, heart-stopping grin that I was 99 percent convinced would be plastered all over teen girls’ walls six months from now. “I’ll take a grande latte, two raw sugars.”
“I’m not your personal assistant.”
He shrugged and made his way toward the door. “I figured you’d want another coffee since yours spilled, and you’d want to be polite, right? Isn’t that what a good publicist teaches? Manners?”
Manners, my ass. Steam was probably billowing out of my ears. I’d fought hard to climb my way to the top and I didn’t need a spoiled Hollywood actor making the last rung on the ladder difficult.
“Fine,” I snapped. “Anything else, Reid?”
“Shouldn’t it be ‘sir’?”
“Ask me to call you ‘sir’ and see what happens.”
“Tsk, tsk.” He frowned. “So violent. Oh, and also.” He moved back into the room and touched my face. His finger came back with a dollop of whipped cream. With evilly seductive eyes, he dipped his finger into his mouth and moaned. “You’ve had this on you since the beginning of the meeting.”
“That was mine.” Right. That’s what I was going with. The whipped cream he’d just tasted off my face was mine. At least I was semi owning the situation, right?
Reid smirked, biting down on his lower lip. What was with him and his plump lips! “Oh, sorry, I can always give it back.” He leaned forward.
My body rejoiced while my mind went on complete lockdown.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I pushed against his chest. “This relationship is professional. No seduction allowed. Besides, it doesn’t work on me.”