Brenda Jackson - High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way - High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way

And not one of them could stop her from wishing for the very thing she could never have.

Duncan kept his hand firmly around Annie’s elbow as he guided her toward his car in the parking lot. One of the first rules of boxing was not to fight mad. It gave your opponent an advantage. He’d learned the lesson also applied to all areas of life, so he wasn’t going to say anything until he was sure he was under control. A state hard to imagine as anger pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

He was beyond pissed. He could feel the emotions boiling up inside him. The need to lash out, to yell—something he never did—nearly overwhelmed him.

“Just say it,” Annie said calmly, when they reached the car.

He pushed the button to unlock the doors, then opened hers. “I have nothing to say.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re practically frothing at the mouth. You need to just say it.”

“I’m fine,” he growled, waiting until she got into the car, then closing her door.

He walked around and got in on the driver’s side. She put her hand on his arm.

“Duncan, you’ll feel better.”

He angled toward her, staring into her wide blue eyes, nearly vibrating with rage. “You had no right.”

“So you are mad.”

“What the hell were you thinking.”

She sighed. “So much for the warm fuzzies.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“Before, at the party, when I brought in the karaoke machine and humiliated myself by singing and saved the day, there were warm fuzzies. But now, all because I make a simple little suggestion, you’re upset.”

“A simple suggestion? Is that what you call it? You have no right. This isn’t your business. Our bargain in no way gives you any kind of authority over me or my decisions. You don’t know what you’re talking about and because of that, I have to deal with your mess.”

She nodded slowly. “Feel better?”

“I’m not a child to be placated.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

She wasn’t afraid of him. In the back of his mind, he appreciated that she was sitting calmly while he ranted. Most people couldn’t do that. They were too aware of his size, his background, his ability to physically rip them in two if the mood struck.

She shifted toward him. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“You’re not the one who has to pay for it.”

“You’re paying for it already,” she said reasonably. “Parents have to miss work because their day care isn’t available. Or they can’t stay late because of the hours. It’s out of their control and that makes people worry. Worried people don’t do as good a job.”

“I’m not offering in-office day care. It’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“It’s expensive and unnecessary.”

“Do you know that for sure?” she asked.

“Do you know that it really helps?”

“No, but I’m willing to find out if it does. Are you?”

“I don’t come into your classroom and tell you how to teach. I would appreciate it if you didn’t come into my business and tell me how to run it.” The anger bubbled again.

“I’m not doing that. I was talking to a group of your employees and they spoke pretty passionately about it. I said it was an interesting idea and something you’d look into.”

“You do not speak for me.”

“What was I supposed to do?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice. “As far as they’re all concerned, I’m your girlfriend. The entire point of this exercise is to make the world think you’re a nice guy. Nice guys listen to good ideas.”

He couldn’t take much more of this. “It’s not a good idea. I listen when the person talking has something worthwhile to say.”

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