“I was planning to put it back,” Dylan defended.
“I need to see the designs,” said Zach, not a trace of apology in his tone. “My company, your company, pretend all you like, but I’m the guy signing the check. And I’m the guy left picking up the pieces once your game is over.”
“That game happens to be my life.” She wasn’t playing around here. If she didn’t fix her career, she didn’t have a job. If she didn’t have a job, there was nobody to pay rent, nobody to buy food.
He brought his hand down on the table. “And whatever’s left when the dust clears happens to be mine.”
Sick to death of the contest of wills, Kaitlin capitulated.
She waved a hand toward her briefcase. “Fine. Go ahead. There’s nothing you can do to change them anyway. You don’t like ‘em, complain all you want. I will ignore you.”
Zach wasted no time in snagging the briefcase from the bench seat between him and Lindsay. He snapped open the clasps, lifted the lid and extracted the folded plans. He awkwardly spread them out on the round table.
Just then, the waiter arrived and glanced around for a place to set the coffee.
Zach ignored him, and the man signaled for a folding tray stand.
Kaitlin accepted a coffee. She took her cup in her hand, sipping it while she sat back to wait for Zach’s reaction.
She suspected he’d be angry. Her designs called for some pretty fundamental and expensive changes to his building. But a small part of her couldn’t help but hope he’d surprise her.
Maybe he had better taste than she thought. Maybe he’d recognize her genius. Maybe he’d—
“Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind?” His gray eyes all but glowed in anger.
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