In Bed with the Bachelor (Bachelor Auction Book 5) by Megan Crane Page A

she was honest, was far closer to a smirk. “You were for sale, Jesse. Someone had to do it. It was us or that drunk woman who kept singing ‘It’s Raining Men.’”
    His mouth curved. “You work for Amos Burke. Seems like he’d be a better, easier, and cheaper option than some random guy in a bachelor auction, if your family was that worried about Terrence and his prospects.”
    He said Terrence’s name as if it was distinctly unpleasant on his tongue, and then took a swig of his coffee as if he had to wash it down. That shouldn’t have been so… fascinating. Maybe because it was, Michaela spoke without thinking.
    “Amos hates Terrence.”
    Jesse’s gaze met hers. “Ah.”
    “What does ‘ah’ mean?”
    “It means you can put your knife down, killer. That seems to be a popular take, that’s all.” He settled back in his chair, but the way he was looking at her across the table suggested he was anything but relaxed, even after she obeyed him and let go of her utensils. “Patterns are always interesting.”
    Michaela felt small and disloyal. If she were a good person, surely she would rush to Terrence’s defense. That had always been what Terrence wanted her to do when it came to the tricky subject of Amos. He’d felt Michaela never chose him and that she didn’t defend him very well, either. But the thing was, she saw Amos’s position, too. Because he pays you to see his position, Terrence had accused her. You put him first, but he doesn’t do the same for you, does he? Or you wouldn’t have to ask him to help you.
    And she’d never known how to point out to Terrence that it wasn’t Michaela Amos flatly refused to help. That it was Terrence.
    And there were so many complex layers to these issues back in Seattle. She had to defend Amos to Terrence and Terrence to Amos and she was tired of both, sometimes. She worked with a difficult man and she was engaged to a polarizing one, and she sometimes wished she could spend some time, somewhere, at work or at home, where the men in her life weren’t the topic of conversation. Where she was who mattered, and not because she was expected to solve any kind of problem. Where people cared about her, not them.
    But even here, in a roadhouse in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere with a complete stranger, that wasn’t in the cards.
    “Amos hates everyone,” she told Jesse briskly, when what she usually said to explain Amos was a good deal softer and more positive. More eccentric genius and less misanthropic ass. She didn’t know why she couldn’t seem to muster that up here. She shrugged. “That’s what he does. His goal in life is to create ways people can communicate with each other fully without having to actually interact in the flesh. He’s not a great judge of character.”
    “People with Amos Burke’s level of success are always good judges of character,” Jesse said quietly. “By definition. Or they couldn’t possibly achieve what he has.”
    She assumed he was talking about himself, and couldn’t have said why it made her feel so funny.
    “That’s what he hired me for.” She shoved her hash browns around on her plate as if they’d suddenly gone uppity on her. “I deal with the people. Amos deals with the code. Everybody wins.”
    “You and he never…?”
    “That’s everybody’s favorite question, of course.” Was that bitterness in her voice? She’d never been bitter before, surely. She had no idea what was happening inside of her, and she thought that alone might drive her over the edge. Maybe she was simply too full, after a breakfast better suited to a team of lumberjacks. Or maybe the hash browns really were getting snippy. “No one can believe that a man and a woman could work together without years and years of sexual tension. People are more multi-dimensional than that, you know. They’re not reduced to their sexual organs, careening around helplessly, humping each other’s legs like untrained dogs.”
    Jesse blinked.