Working It by Cathy Yardley

the big leagues?”
    Skip seemed to mull it over. Then, to Drew’s surprise, he started nodding.
    â€œI think,” Skip said, still looking at Jade and almost ignoring Drew completely, “that we’ll be able to work something out.”
    Â 
    J ADE SANG “We are the Champions” in the shower, loud and proudly off-key. The Nevada heat had practically wilted her in her power suit, but in the air-conditioned cold of the conference room at Norinal, she’d scored her first big win for the Robson account. Drew had walked away with a two-year contract to continue providing for Norinal Machines, with no discounts or freebies…and it was a larger order than Robson had ever received. Thank God that steel magazine had a Web site. She’d managed to do a fair amount of research in a short amount of time. She doubted the rest of their clients would be that easy, but the point was, her methods worked. Now she had proof.
    Drew had certainly been floored. He had barely said a word to her the whole way back from Norinal Machines to their hotel. He’d said he needed a shower, even though he’d looked a lot cooler than she’d felt. He was also a lot more subdued than she was. Of course, he wasn’t the one who had just landed the sale.
    She’d forgotten how juiced up she got after a win.
    So she’d agreed that they both clean up, but insisted that they meet for dinner and get back to work…his next customer was small, but it was probably the perfect testing ground for him to try out a few techniques. Nothing drastic. Still, she was really looking forward to seeing what he could do once he got a few basic sales skills down.
    She got dressed, still humming, doing impromptu little dance moves in her happiness. It was coming together. She was doing it. Robson Steel was going to be a success, and Drew was going to get just what he wanted—a thriving company. And she was going to be an account supervisor. It was better than Christmas.
    She walked down the hallway to Drew’s room, wearing a sundress and sandals, her still-damp hair up in a loose bun. She knocked. “Drew? You ready for a little dinner and a little conversation?”
    He took a long time opening the door, and when he did, she was surprised to find he wasn’t ready. He was still wearing the same khakis and shirt, and if anything, he looked ill.
    She stepped in, letting the door shut behind her. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œI don’t feel like dinner. And I really don’t feel like conversation.” His tone was curt, and his arms were crossed. His light blue eyes were bright with intensity. “Maybe we should just pick up in the morning.”
    She frowned. Drew’s vibe of displeasure was overwhelming. She supposed she could let him stew in it…but damn it, she’d done well today. Besides, retreat wasn’t exactly a Jade Morrow trademark.
    â€œYou don’t look too happy for a guy who just landed a two-year contract,” she said.
    â€œI didn’t just land a two-year contract.” The sharp angles of his face seemed even harsher in the poor hotel lighting. “You just landed it.”
    She waited, but he stopped there, just staring at her. “You’re welcome?” She tried smiling.
    He glared at her.
    She sat on the edge of the bed, letting out a huff of irritation. “Okay. Spit it out. What is up with you? I did what I promised. I showed you that my techniqueswork. You said that you’d give me a chance. Is this your idea of backing up your word?” She quirked her head, studying him. “Because if it is, you suck at it.”
    â€œYour technique?” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s your version of asking for mustard and ketchup—use that damned sexy honesty, and the guys will do anything you ask, huh?”
    She blinked at him. “Oh, no. Tell me you’re not going there.”
    â€œYou were doing