There was a click, then the door opened. Quentin Rayworth looked up as Mary Summers re-entered her office.

She smiled and walked over to where he sat to one side of the room. “All right, he’s ready for you. He took some persuading, and I had to lay out a few harsh truths for him, but once he got it, he understood. He’s agreed to work with you, and I’ve told him he’s got to do exactly what you tell him.”

Quentin gulped. He was well aware of what a fantastic opportunity he’d landed in working with Cade Avery, and how good it would be for his career, but he wasn’t at all sure about the idea of telling the man what to do. Quentin had seen him on TV, and he was terrifying. Not only was he almost as wide as he was tall—and that was in muscle and bulk, not fat—he had a formidable personality, too. But then, he reminded himself, that was precisely why Cade needed him, Quentin Rayworth, to be his campaign manager. He needed, to coin an oft-used phrase, to win friends and influence people. And Quentin could help him do exactly that.

Pulling in a deep breath, he stood up and forced a smile past his nerves and onto his face. “Thank you, Mrs. Summers. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Then, hoping he sounded much more confident than he felt, added, “I won’t let you down.”

She nodded. “I know. And I’ve told you, it’s Mary. You make me feel about a hundred years old calling me Mrs. Summers. Now, go get him. Out the door, turn right, and Mr. Avery’s office is second on the left. You can’t go wrong—his name is on the door. Relax, and be yourself. And, most importantly, don’t let him walk all over you. I know he can be a bit intimidating, Quentin, but in this situation, you are the expert. So be confident in your abilities. If he’s difficult, just remind him you’re here to help him. To make sure he wins this campaign. And, if he gets to be too much, just come and tell me.” She tipped him a playful wink. “I’ll sort him out for you.”

“I know that, Cade, and the rest of the team knows that. Nobody is doubting your abilities, not one iota. But I’m afraid it’s a simple fact that unless you win people over, you haven’t got a cat in hell’s chance of winning this election. So all of this will have been for nothing. And I, for one, am not willing to allow that to happen. Therefore, I have appointed you a campaign manager. You are going to work with him, you are going to do what he tells you to do, and together, you are going to boost your public image. And you are not, I repeat not, going to frighten him off. You need him, Cade. Do you understand?”

Even if he hadn’t been able to see her chest heaving with the rapidity of her breaths, the flush on her cheeks, and the intensity in her eyes, Cade would have known just how strongly Mary felt about this. His superior shifter hearing easily picked up the sound of her fast respiration and elevated heart rate. He could also smell the tang of the light sweat she’d broken out in. She put up with a lot of his shit, and had done for many years now, but it was rare for her to put her foot down like this. She was, after all, his employee. He was the boss, not her.
So for her to talk to him like this, to lay it all out in such a blatant fashion, knowing that it could, in fact, inflame his infamous temper and cause him to fire her, meant that she believed in what she was saying, one hundred per cent. Two hundred per cent. She’d never take such a risk otherwise.

Nodding to show her he had listened to and understood what she’d said, Cade mulled over her words. As their meaning slowly sunk in, shock and realization filled him in equal parts. Was he really that bad? He knew he wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity, but everything he did, he did to improve the lives of local people. Surely that counted for something? But no … according to Mary, it wasn’t enough. He needed to … Christ, what the hell did he need to do?

“All right.” He cleared his throat, then repeated, more loudly, “All right. I want, more than anything, to win this election, and I’ll do anything—legal—to ensure that. So if I need to work with this campaign manager to, I dunno, make me more likeable or whatever, then I will.”

Mary’s face shifted into a wide smile. “Good,” she said, taking a step back towards the door, “because he’s here.”

“Mary,” he cooed, backtracking quickly, “come on, sit down. Why do you always insist on standing up in here?”

“Because, unless we’re having a meeting, I don’t generally need to stay long. I normally impart my information, you give your feedback, and we get on with our day.” She shifted restlessly and narrowed her eyes. “But today, it seems, you’re having a bit of a brain fart. Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Raising his eyebrows at her increasing irritation, and wondering if there was something going on in her private life that was making her so touchy, he nodded. “Yes, I really think you do.”

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Mary again seemed to be getting a grip on her irritation. She finally said, “All right. But don’t forget; you asked for it.”

“Noted. I’m all ears.”

“And you can’t fire me.”

“Just spit it out, Mary. I won’t fire you.”

“You’d better not,” she muttered. Then, “Cade, you need a campaign manager because, although you’re damn good at your job, at getting things done, improving things in the local community, you’re not very likeable. I’ve known you long enough to realize that you don’t do it intentionally, but you upset people, you say the wrong thing, you ride rough-shod over people’s ideas and feelings, and you do all of that with your eyes firmly on the goal. People want change, and a leader that’s going to get results. So you have that in your favor. But at the same time, you still have to get people to like you. People won’t vote for someone they dislike, even if they know that person might be the best candidate for the job.”

“But that’s stupid. I’m not trying to be best buddies with everyone, I’m trying to improve their community—their lives! The lives of their children, and grandchildren. And I will, if they’ll just give me the chance to do it.”

“You’ve done what?” Cade Avery yelled, fixing his long-time friend and colleague, Mary Summers, with a glare. He slammed his hands down on his desk, making a bunch of pens jump and rattle, and causing water to splash over the side of his glass. “Why the hell would you do such a thing?”

Mary, by now used to Cade’s temper and frequent outbursts, didn’t flinch. Standing firm on the other side of his desk, she calmly stated, “You heard me, Cade. I’ve appointed you a campaign manager. And as for the why, I think it’s pretty damn obvious.”

“Not to me,” he grumbled, snatching a handful of tissues from the box in his top drawer and swiping irritably at the liquid he’d spilled. “Seems like an unnecessary expense.”

With a heavy sigh, Mary replied, “Do you want to win this bloody election or not?”

“Yes, of course I do. What sort of a stupid question is that?”

“Well then, you need a campaign manager. The rest of the team and I already have enough on our plates. We can’t handle that side of things, too. Not to mention the fact that you really need someone with … expertise … in that department. Someone who can boost your public image, make you more likeable … you know, so people will actually vote for you.”

Screwing up the wad of soggy tissue and dumping it in the wastebasket beside him, Cade snapped his gaze to Mary. She stood, the ever-present iPad clutched against her chest, looking as determined and immovable as a five-feet-one, slim thirty-five-year-old was ever going to get.

He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “What’s wrong with my public image?”

Rolling her eyes heavenward, her body tensing, Mary’s cool demeanor actually looked on the verge of cracking. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, she looked back at him. “Give me strength, Cade. Are you fucking serious?”

She may have used the deep breath and probably a considerable amount of willpower to dampen down her physical reaction to his question, but her actual words gave her true state of mind away. As a rule, the word “bloody” was as bad as it got for Mary. To have enticed a “fucking” out of her, and within the same conversation, no less, meant she was in real danger of losing her temper with him. And despite her diminutive frame and usually chilled-out personality—especially in comparison with his huge frame and fiery personality—when she did lose it, she was utterly terrifying. Possibly the fact that she rarely got angry was what made it so potent when she did. Mary’s ire could turn even the thickest-skinned person into a blubbering wreck.