Mia wrinkled her nose. "Don't, I just ate breakfast."

"You don't eat breakfast."

“Yeah. Damn." She inhaled deeply and concentrated on the Anderson account. "All right. I can handle him."

“Like you handled-what's that guy's name on twenty-five?"

"Phil." Mia had gone out with tall and hunky Phil one night after they'd met at a mutual friend's birthday party. But he'd been a piss-poor kisser, not a promising sign. "I told you, that didn't work out."

Tess sighed. An eternal optimist always looking for “the one," she worried that Mia had commitment issues.

Speaking of things working out. Did your sweet little old lady neighbor enjoy the cookies I baked yesterday?"

Uh huh." Mia reached for her stack of phone messages.

Tess nabbed them first, holding them out of reach.

Mia, knowing what was coming, sighed. "What?"

“Talk to me."

"Yes, thank you, the cookies worked wonders. Look, I just got the news of the year. Trying to remain excited here."

“Do you think I can't tell when you're lying trough your teeth?"

“I am excited."

“The cookies, Mia."

“Fine. The cookies were a huge hit," Mia said with great exaggeration, waggling her fingers for the messages.

“By-let me guess now-a man."

“Does it matter that they weren't for the exact neighbor you thought?"

"No, except I would have charged you double if I'd known you were going to use them as a seducing technique."

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because I made them thinking you were being kind to old ladies. Because I made them so you'd remember to give me a raise next month when I'm due for review. But, damn it, all that's really going on here is you're getting laid and I am not."

"I'm always kind to old ladies, and you know I'm going to recommend you for a raise. It's well deserved. Except, of course, when you hassle me. And FYI, to get laid, you have to stop waiting for your prince and date."

"Fine change of subject." Tess let out a long breath. "Just lay low on any destroying of hearts at the moment, okay? Especially with this impending Ted disaster."

"It won't be a disaster."

"Says Hurricane Heartbreaker Mia Appleby."

Unconcerned, Mia eyed her messages. "I have a creative team meeting, and then a research review for that last campaign we did for Sorvenson Foods. Busy day, as you know all too well. Can I have my messages now?"

But Tess continued to hold the messages hostage. "Was he cute?"

"Who?"

"Whoever gave you that glow."

Though Mia appreciated men, she did not sleep with them that often. She had her standards, after all, and besides, being a serial one-night-stander was simply too dangerous in this day and age. Last night had been her first… break, as she thought of it, in a while. "He was gorgeous." Again she reached for the messages.

"Are you going to see him again? Wait a minute, why would I ask such a stupid question?" Tess smacked her head. "Of course you're not. You don't repeat."

"Unlike some people who shall not be named. I'm not looking for a husband."

“Good, because you're not going to find him in the sack."

“I’ll have you know, Kevin was quite amazing in the sack."

“Kevin." Tess nodded. "I'm impressed. You got his name."

Mia tried to snatch her messages, but Tess hugged them tight. "I'm just worried about you. You never attach. It's not good for you."

“I'm attached to you. Though I'd be more attached if you gave me my messages."

“I'm talking about the person you're going to grow old with. Get gray hair with. Sit on the porch swing and tell stories about the good old days with."

“I'm never going to get gray hair, thank you very much. And I don't like swings. Messages?"

How could you not like swings? Tell me the truth. You're not human, right? You grew up in a pod and were placed here on earth when you were twenty-two. Fine. Take your damn messages." She slapped them into Mia's hand.

Mia looked at her, amused. "Grew up in a pod?"

“Well, that's just a guess since you won't talk about yourself before college. It's all a big mystery."

Some of her amusement vanished. "Nothing before matters."

"Mia." Now Tess gave her one of those patented maternal expressions, full of worry and concern and, damn it, affection. "Of course it matters, it-"

"Stop. Okay? Just stop. You worry far too much. Thanks for the messages." Mia grabbed the plant.

"Don't punish the poor plant!"

Mia just shook her head and headed for her office door, passing up the cubicles of the four members of her creative team, Janice, Tami, Steven, and Dillon. They were all at work on various projects, so she waved and moved on. So she didn't want to talk about her humble beginnings. So what? No reason to feel that twinge of guilt-no reason at all-just because Tess gave everything of herself, no holding back, whatever Mia needed at all times, including cookies.

Damn it, Ted Stokes was in her office, lounging in her chair as a matter of annoying fact, leaning back, feet up as if he owned the place. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he'd been blessed with a face that women everywhere thought of as California beautiful. He was strong and tan, and when he smiled he flashed baby blue eyes and a dimple, melting hearts and dampening panties everywhere.

But Mia wasn't fooled by him. Beneath that fun-loving exterior beat a cold, purposeful heart. She set down the plant and gathered her bitchiness around her like a Gucci coat.

He smiled at her, that I'm-an-asshole smile, which really bit into her superiority over getting the Anderson account.

"Ah, a new plant to kill," he noted.

She smiled through her teeth. She was going to keep the damn plant alive if it was the last thing she did. "I hope you brought coffee to this unexpected party."

Ted lifted a steaming mug. His own, of course.

"What do you want, Ted?"

"Interesting question." He smiled again, batting those long lashes over his baby blues.

She did not smile back.

"You're a tough nut, Mia. I'm trying to flirt with you, in case you didn't notice. And don't say you don't flirt, because-"

"I don't flirt in the office. With coworkers."

“We could be more than coworkers. What do you say?"

“How about never? Does never work for you?"

Some of the wattage went out of his smile at that, but she didn't care. Last week in the employee break room he'd made a move on her. He'd cornered her between the sink and the refrigerator and tried to kiss her. She'd shoved him back, maybe a little harder than the situation warranted, but really, he was just lucky she'd let him keep his balls.

At the shove, he'd fallen backward into a table, spilling a glass of water, which in turn soaked into the seat of his pants. He'd made a joke of it then, apparently thinking that laughing it off would be the easiest way for his ego to handle the rejection, but she knew he'd been pissed.

"You're still upset about the kiss," he said in an annoyingly patronizing tone. "Honestly, Mia, the way you leaned into me, I thought you wanted me to kiss you."

“You've been fantasizing again." She liked kissing, very much. But as the queen of compartmentalizing, she’d long ago divided her needs into little groups. First and most important, job. Second, men.

Never the two shall meet.

The men in her office, and there were many, had correctly read her back-off signs. She knew they called her Ice Queen among other less flattering things, and she didn't care, because what Ted hadn't anticipated when he'd made the move on her was how he'd unwittingly put her into the position of power, a situation he greatly regretted. His eyes were no longer friendly.

“I'll get to the point of me being here," he said.

“Why don't you."

"You got the Anderson account."

The two of them might be equals on the scale when it came to the ladder of success within this company, but that was only because he'd been here longer. Mia was better at the job. She knew it, everyone in the office knew it, and Ted knew it, too.

He just didn't like it, or her aggression in getting other-and winning-accounts. Bottom line, he was lazy. She was not.

"Yes, I got the Anderson account," she said.

"You stole it out from beneath me."

Ah. The victim angle. She should have guessed he'd go that route. She'd won the account fairly, with blood and sweat and tears. Okay, maybe not with blood or tears, but certainly with long, hard hours over the past several months. She'd put her heart and soul into it, and she wanted to hear him say it, even knowing he'd never give her that satisfaction. "I don't know what your problem is," she said quietly. "But I bet it's hard to pronounce."

His jaw ticced. "I should have gotten that account." He pushed a file across her gorgeous Baker desk. "My ideas were better."

"Now, that's just plain not nice."

"It's true."

"You're insulting my entire creative team."

"Just stating fact."

The man was impossible. She picked up his work and dropped it in the trash.

His eyes filled with anger. "Bitch."

"Oooh, ouch. You got me, Ted. Now get out."

"That account should have been mine."

"You know what? I can stand your arrogance, and maybe even stand your smugness-though it'd be easier if you weren't wearing such a tacky suit-but I won't stand being accused of stealing. Get out."

"You should have to share that account with me."

"When hell freezes over." Planting her hands flat on her desk, she leaned over and looked him right in the cold eyes. "Read my lips, Ted. I don't share." She shoved his loafers off her desk and stood her ground while he slowly, insolently rose to his feet. Never had she resented her average height more as he towered over her, leanly muscled and ticked off.