Human Resources Chapter 1
“Buffy Summers,” he said seductively, smiling in a way that belied what a bastard he could be. He considered the sharply dressed blonde that stood in his office doorway, pursing his lips with amusement when she refrained from making eye contact and helped herself to a chair across from his desk.
“Mr. Pratt,” she said curtly and pulled a pen from behind her ear, clicked it once and wrote something down on a clip board.
“Now, Buffy,” he pouted, “how many times do I have to remind you that you must call me Spike?”
Buffy met his eyes with a bored expression and crossed her legs as she tapped the end of her pen on her clipboard. “How many times do I have to tell you that I only refer to my friends by their first names? We will never be friends, we are associates.”
“Oh, you’re right about one thing, Buffy,” he said silkily, adjusting the bottom of his tie as he leaned forward and clasped his hands together on his desk. “We’ll most certainly never be friends. Friends don’t scream one another’s names at the height of passion.” His tongue twirled behind his sparkling white teeth and he grinned, because he was so damn clever.
“Mr. Pratt,” she continued, glossing over his suggestive comments and getting down to the business at hand, “are you aware that corporate has sent me here to evaluate your behavior for the next week?”
He laughed and rubbed his chin as he leaned back in his chair. “Is that right? What have I done this time?”
“Well, let’s take a look, shall we?” Buffy grinned as she pulled a rather large file out from her briefcase and opened it. She licked the tip of her thumb as she leafed through the pages. “May 15th, an employee complained that you made a comment about her derriere in a suggestive manner…”
“Who said that?”
“Eloise Mayfield.”
Spike cackled with mirth. “She’s sixty-five years old! I told her to get her ass out of my way. That’s hardly suggestive.”
Buffy rolled her eyes and continued. “June 17th, you were reported spiking the communal coffee urn with bourbon.”
Spike simply shrugged in reply.
“Here’s a good one…April 3rd, another complaint that you threatened an employee with a month of mandatory overtime if he didn’t, and I quote, ‘keep his bloody hands off your God damn donuts’.” Spike chuckled and Buffy sighed. “Does this amuse you?”
“Sorry,” he said as he reined in his laughter. “I don’t see what the problem is. It’s all in good fun.”
“All in good fun?” Buffy’s expression was gravely serious as she flipped through page after page of employee complaints about their boss. “Was it ‘all in good fun’ when you keyed Liam Angelus’ car?”
“He’s a git! I told him to quit checkin’ me on that card game but the bastard lured me into folding! I was up four grand!”
Buffy gasped. “So now you’re gambling on company time? Got a drug cartel running through the warehouse that I should know about, too?”
“It was during lunch!”
“You cannot gamble on company property!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “What else’ve you got, love?”
“Please don’t call me that,” she said as she cocked her head to the side.
Not even five minutes had passed and she was already exhausted. For the past two years Buffy Summers had been the head of the HR department for Global Imports, a successful company that supplied hospitals around the world with the latest technology. Spike Pratt, the asshole she was currently speaking with, was the manager of the west coast branch, responsible for sales, shipping and overseeing the website.
She hated admitting that the first day on the job she was instantly attracted to him. It was hard not to be when faced with the likes of him. He was charming, had a raspy British accent that poured from his lips like honey when he spoke, had gorgeous blue eyes hooded with incredibly long dark eyelashes, cheekbones to die for, lips that held a promise of weakened knees should you ever get a taste, shockingly white blond hair that oddly didn’t seem out of place in the corporate world, a slew of expensive tailored suits that boasted his style, and a body that one could only imagine was rock solid.
So yeah, she was only human and even gave in to his shameless flirting with her, stupidly thinking he was interested. It wasn’t until the second day on the job that she realized what a playboy he was. He had every woman in the building firmly tucked beneath his thumb, willing to do whatever he wished. It was at that moment that she decided not to be one of them. Spike Pratt was a lecherous womanizer and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall for his charms again. That didn’t mean he’d stopped trying to get under her skin.
“Can’t help it. It’s in my nature to appreciate a gorgeous woman with sweet nicknames.”
God, she hated him. Even though her office was two floors above his, it was almost impossible to avoid him, especially when his employees would come to see her on their lunch breaks and file complaints about him. The bitch of it was, no matter how many times she reported him to corporate, they let it slide. He was that good. They claimed he was a work horse, which she was suspicious of. Every time she’d come to his floor, she’d see him chatting up some blonde in sales or throwing darts in the break room. However, his numbers didn’t lie and not only was the west coast branch the most successful of all in the U.S., but he’d increased their clientele tenfold.
So corporate often brushed his behavior under the rug for the sake of keeping a stellar employee. Buffy was tired of him taking advantage of the system. He knew full well that he could get away with anything, and so he did. After a very angry phone call and a list of all of the accusations and complaints against him, corporate finally conceded her request to put him on probation for a week. She knew that wasn’t enough time to prove anything, but she was determined to seek out any flaw he had and exploit it. He might try to be a saint for a week, but she knew he’d slip up eventually.
“Is it in your nature to get any work done today?”
His eyes narrowed as he took in the challenging tone of her voice. “I’ve got plenty of work, pet. Make yourself comfy, I’ve got to check my answer phone for messages before I get started.”
Buffy folded her arms and sat back in her chair as Spike put his messages on speaker phone.
“Hey, stallion. You were great last night.”
Spike smiled proudly and chewed on his thumb as he listened to the girl’s message, her voice oozing with sensuality. Buffy wasn’t impressed.
“God, I’m still sore. I didn’t even know I could bend that way! ”
“Oh, Daphne,” he cooed out loud, “I’ll be calling her again for sure.” He wrote himself a message on a sticky note and deleted the message mid-sentence. Another started.
“Spikey, why haven’t you returned my calls? I keep calling and calling and call–”
Spike deleted the message and rolled his eyes. “Harmony. Can’t take a hint, that one.”
Buffy pursed her lips and sighed. Just how much of this was she going to have to put up with? She looked at her watch.
“Mmmm, Spike. Been thinking about you all day. God I want your cock in my mou–”
He quickly deleted that one and had the audacity to blush. “Maggie,” he said quietly, as if Buffy needed or wanted to know who the slut was on the machine. Buffy pursed her lips and swung her foot that was slung over her knee in irritation.
Spike stopped the answering machine and laughed nervously. “I’ll um…check those later.”
“Quite a fan base you have there, Spikey,” she said mockingly. “However do you remember all their names?”
“Day planner,” he said simply, as if she should have known better. “I pencil in each date and remind myself who I’m out with. Gets tricky when there’re two of them,” he said with a leer. “Or three.”
“How romantic.”
“Romance has got nothin’ to do with it, love. These birds are after the same thing I am.”
“Venereal disease?” Buffy snorted and turned her eyes away from him.
“Oh, please,” he said silkily, “like you’ve never indulged yourself with a night of shagging with no consequences? Hot little number like you’s gotta have the boys lining the block to get a taste.”
Her tone was icy cold, matching the cool glare she shot his way when she said, “What I do on the weekends is none of your business, Mr. Pratt.”
“Aww, been a long time since anyone’s stuck it to you, has it?”
“You’re disgusting.” She wrote something down on her clipboard.
“Are you writing down what I just said?”
“Yup,” she said plainly, ignoring the incredulous look from across the room.
“Oh, come on! I’m only messin’ around with you.”
She looked up from her writing and smiled tightly. “You’re on probation, Mr. Pratt. Let’s get something crystal clear, shall we? I don’t like you. You disgust me. You’re a misogynistic asshole with absolutely no respect for women. You are constantly taking advantage of your job title to get away with whatever you want and one day it’s going to bite you where the sun don’t shine. I hope I’m there to see it happen and when it does, I’m going to buy myself a nice bottle of Veuve Clicquot, sit in my hot tub and toast to your demise while I laugh my ass off. Got me?”
Spike sat back in his chair, touching the tips of his fingers together as he smirked arrogantly at her. Fuck, he loved this woman. Since the day she started working, he’d had his eyes on her. Of course, his initial attraction was purely physical. He had a sweet spot for blondes with tight little bodies and hers was delicious. Her long golden hair, which he’d obsess over on the days that she didn’t pull it up in a tight twist, simply begged him to touch it. She had emerald green eyes that sparkled chartreuse when she was royally pissed, like she was right then, full pouty lips often shiny with kissable gloss, a small little waist, a luscious bum and perfect tits, a handful each. Perfection.
He thought she might bend to his will that first day but something changed when she came to work the following Tuesday. Her attitude was icy cold but her eyes were full of fire and it only made him want her more. Never had a girl denied him, and it wasn’t just that she was a challenge that interested him. At first, maybe. But two years of lusting after a person changed your perceptions of things. No, he wanted her. Buffy. Wanted her badly and he had absolutely no idea how to go about getting her.
She was brilliant, a slave to her work which he respected immensely, had a knock-out heart-melting smile, and often times, he’d catch her laughing in the break room and the sound was like music to his ears. She usually cut herself short once she realized he was in the room. It broke his heart, really.
Failing miserably at gaining her affections, he tried another tactic when she avoided his floor more often. His friends, Angel, Lindsey and Xander all formed a fool-proof plan. Good blokes, they were. They’d make bogus complaints about Spike, just to keep her mind on him. It was arrogant to think this way, but he knew well enough at this point how she operated. And he was also an arrogant prick, so it worked out nice.
She hated him, and that emotion was just as strong as desire. Both were equally passionate. If he planted enough seeds, got her good and irritated, she’d be helpless against constantly agonizing over him. And then, he’d pounce. The problem was Miss Eloise Mayfield who complained on a weekly basis about his antics. Yeah, he’d spiked the coffee, but it was five minutes before clock-out time and he’d planned on an all-nighter to catch up on some work. The old hag caught him and reported him the next day. She was a slithering little spy, that old bitch was. Just about anything he did wrong she marched upstairs and reported to HR. He didn’t know if it helped or hurt his intentions.
However, he couldn’t think about that because his plan was going swimmingly. Here she was, forced to sit with him every day for a week. Spike had five days to make his impression and he’d already bollixed it up with the answering machine. It started off as just a way to remind Buffy what a sex god he was, but the more disinterested and bored she seemed, the more embarrassed he was for his behavior. Now he just felt like a sleazebag, even though every girl he’d slept with the past few years was fully aware of his purpose and had no complaints. Except for Harmony…but he was drunk then.
“You’re a champagne connoisseur?” he asked, disregarding her insults and threats.
She laughed humorlessly and rubbed at her tired eyes. “It’s only nine am.”
“And you’ve got all week with me,” he finished for her with a teasing tone. His phone rang as Buffy groaned and he picked it up. “Talk….Hey, Mum,” he said with a smile, scratching the back of his head as he leaned back. Like clockwork, one thing he could always count on was the 9:00 a.m. phone call from his mother. “How’s Mr. Fluffy Bottoms doin’ today? Oh, that’s too bad,” he said with a pout. “Did you change his food again? Well, you can’t use that to clean up carpet, Mum.”
Buffy looked up from her clipboard with interest. First of all, he’d said Mr. Fluffy Bottoms without breaking a sweat. And now he was giving his mother cleaning tips. This was very odd.
“I know, I miss you, too. You’re going to the doctors tomorrow morning, right? Now, Mum…I know you don’t like the bus but this is important. I’m going to call you and make sure you go to your appointment,” he said quietly, suddenly ducking behind the monitor on his desk as the conversation turned serious. “Because…Mum, listen. You haven’t gotten any better and…I know, I just worry, ok? Will you feel better if I take the kitty home with me tonight and drop him off after work tomorrow? Ok, then. I’ll do that. Love you, bye.” He hung up the phone and smiled sheepishly as he turned on his monitor and started his work.
Buffy chewed on the end of her pen and narrowed her eyes, studying his nervous body language. It wasn’t something she’d witnessed before. As the minutes ticked away, Buffy decided that she wasn’t going to figure him out so quickly and conceded her defeat for now, pulled out her laptop, and started her own work for the day.
The silence between them was deafening.
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