Working Out

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He’d known it was coming to this. For four long-ass months, he’d been doing his best to handle the situation, and for four months he’d been fooling himself.

Mac Jameson gripped the neck of his beer bottle and glared across the bar at the bane of his existence. He could no longer ignore those big blue eyes, that killer rack, or the platinum blond hair that framed a face that haunted his dreams. She worked for him, but it didn’t stop her from sniping, scowling, or blatantly ignoring him when she didn’t like what he had to say. A smarter man would have taken her signals as uninterested and run the other way.

But not Mac. He thrived on challenge, and Maggie Doran had dare written all over her. Aside from her smart mouth and incredible looks, she had a work ethic he truly respected. To make matters worse, she was far from perfect, which he would have found boring. No woman could look like she did without carrying some massive baggage.

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