A Private Affair (7 page)

“It’s not my job—”

“To care? To give a damn that with one flick of your wrist one person’s life elevates while another’s life is flipped on its head? Have you considered how he’s already suffering and how you’ll add to it? He’s slowly losing his mother and now he’ll lose his job. Do you know what that will do to him? Oh wait, I’m sorry, you don’t care. You’re not paid to care. Having a heart is not part of your job.”

Riverton rose in one fluid motion. “That’s enough,” he said grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair.

Carissa looked up at him startled, fear turning her insides into knots. She’d gone too far. She’d pushed him too hard. “Mr. Riverton I’m—”

“Come on,” he said buttoning his jacket. “We’re hungry. Let’s grab some lunch. I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes.” He opened the door. “And I mean five,” he said, then walked out the door, not looking back.

***

Lunch? Lunch!
He was taking that crazy woman to lunch? He should just fire her, Kenric thought as he left his office. This had been his second opportunity. It was the most sensible thing to do, but with her he didn’t feel like acting sensible. No one had ever questioned him or challenged him like she did. He could make more in an hour than she could in a month and she had the gall to question his decisions?

All he needed was her help to make Barra Industries’ acquisition of Simus Labs a smooth transition and on paper she seemed like the perfect candidate. A woman who rose up the ranks, was focused on her job and never took vacations. A conformist. Someone who followed the rules. At least, that’s what he thought, so why was she giving him a hard time? She knew how these things worked. And he was being as polite and considerate as he possibly could under the circumstances. Why was she determined to focus on things that didn’t matter? People had feelings, he got that. However, emotions weren’t quantifiable. They shifted. They were gossamer things with no real impact. They didn’t last. What lasted were the concrete aspects of life. The things that one can touch and hold. Those were what mattered. What would last after he was gone, after anyone was gone. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, then checked his watch. He wouldn’t put it past her to be late just to annoy him.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder and spun around to Carissa’s surprised expression. Damn. She was even making him jumpy, he was never jumpy.

“Sorry,” Carissa said with a note of caution. “I said your name, but you didn’t answer.”

He cleared his throat. Control. It was all about control. “Where do you want to go?” he asked, holding the door open for her.

“I don’t have a preference. Where are you going? Isn’t your car in the parking lot?” she asked as he headed towards the main street.

He paused. “I thought we could walk.”

“Walk where?”

He hesitated, he wasn’t used to someone looking at him as if he were an idiot. “We can’t just walk to a restaurant or something?”

His question seemed to amuse her. “This isn’t the city with a selection of different eateries around every corner. We’re going to have to take a car. I’ll drive.”

“We’ll take my car,” he said then quickly added, “Relax, you can still drive, I don’t want to get into any gender issue discussions with you, I just prefer my car.” He tossed her the keys, which she easily caught.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?”

He grinned, stopping in front of a car. “Is it working?”

She looked at his silver BMW with trepidation. “Isn’t it illegal to have someone else drive your rental?”

“Who’s going to know?”

“If something happens—”

He grinned at her over the hood of the car. “Are you planning on crashing it? Keying it perhaps?”

She frowned. “No.”

“Then don’t worry,” he said opening the door. “Besides, it’s not a rental, it’s mine. Now let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Fortunately, it wasn’t a long drive. Soon they were seated in a cozy restaurant where a guitar player strummed out a lonesome tune, melted cheese on warm bread scented the air and plastic flowers sat in red vases. Kenric set the menu aside and glanced around.

“Aren’t you going to look at the menu?” Carissa asked.

“Order for us both.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not particular.”

“I wish you’d not say that.”

He looked at her surprised. “Why not? It’s true.”

“First you have me drive your expensive car and now you trust me to order your lunch? I don’t even know what you like.”

“If I were really picky, I would have let you know. I scanned the menu and there’s nothing that disgusts me so just go for it.”

She frowned down at the menu.

“The pineapple was delicious by the way.”

She looked up startled and he couldn’t help thinking that he was starting to like that expression. She looked innocent and cute.

“Oh…uh…good.”

The waitress arrived wearing an orange and brown uniform with her blonde hair in two pigtails that made her look older than her fifty-some years. “May I take your order?”

Carissa glanced at him.

He held up his hands as if in surrender. “It’s not a test and it’s not a trap, I just trust your judgment.”

Carissa looked at him for a long moment, trying to consider her next actions. He may trust her but she didn’t trust him. However, she knew they didn’t have much time so she ordered a cup of split pea soup and half a sandwich then glanced at him to see what he thought, but he was looking at something on the far wall. She turned to see what had caught his interest but didn’t see anything. The restaurant wasn’t a remarkable place, she was sure he’d been to much grander settings, but they still had a lot to do back in the office, and she wasn’t in the mood to drive further away.

She was starting to like him—his steady gaze and quiet manner—and didn’t want to. He couldn’t be as easy going as he pretended. He should have fired her. Why he’d decided to go to lunch instead was still a mystery, but she was grateful for it. She’d stepped over the line. She hadn’t been a professional and that was one thing she prided herself on.

“I apologize Mr. Riverton,” she said then burst into laughter at his look of surprise. She covered her mouth, but couldn’t seem to stop the giggles.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding. I meant it. It’s just your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

She meant his expression, but didn’t want to be specific. Especially since his startled expression made her notice his eyes. He had nice eyes. Brown with specks of grey, but she shouldn’t be noticing them. “Nothing. Wrong choice of words.” Fortunately, the food arrived so he couldn’t ask any more questions. But then to her annoyance she found herself watching him eat. He had excellent table manners, revealing the easy polish of the privileged class and ate his food as if he were dining (since people like him didn’t just eat) at a top restaurant. She still didn’t like him, but he looked less like a henchman and more appealing, disturbing in a very different way. She didn’t like how her heart seemed to pick up pace every time he looked at her. How she liked the shape of his fingers and the cut of his jaw. He was scaring her in a purely primal way. He was an attractive man and that was all she was starting to see.

“Thanks for the apology and I told you to call me Kenric,” he said.

Carissa struggled to keep her voice neutral because the thought of calling him Kenric no longer bothered her as much as it had before. “How about I call you Riverton instead of
Mr.
Riverton?”

“How about just Kenric?”

“I was trying for a compromise.”

“That won’t work because I want an excuse to call you Carissa.”

She shifted in her chair and cleared her throat, wondering why he’d want one. “You don’t need an excuse.”

He nodded pleased. “That’s good to know. What is this again?”

“Split pea soup.”

“Hmm…” he said staring at the bowl in front of him. “Tastes better than it sounds.” He took another spoonful.

Carissa paused perplexed by the look of delight on his face. “You’ve never had split pea soup before?”

“No.”

“Not even for lunch as a kid?” she asked, although she had a hard time even imagining him as one.

“No.”

“Well, if you like this then you’d love my—” She bit her lip.

He looked up at her, a glint of humor in his gaze. “You’re what?”

“Never mind,” she said annoyed with herself for being embarrassed.

“Who is Malcolm to you?”

She stiffened, surprised that he even remembered his name. Then she was irritated by how happy she was that he did. She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t want to notice how good looking he was, or imagine how he’d look taking a taste of her version of split pea soup. She had to stop her wayward thoughts. “A friend.”

“Your little friend had me dreaming about your pineapple cake and baked trout.”

Carissa felt her cheeks burn. If she wasn’t careful Kenric could end up in her dreams too, but food wouldn’t be included. “He tends to exaggerate.”

“I doubt it. I’d pay you.”

“For what?”

“To make me one of your signature dishes.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He fell silent for a moment then said, “Because of Mia Wexler?”

Carissa relaxed. Business was something she could focus on. “I understand your reasoning.”

“But you still don’t agree,” Kenric said studying her.

Carissa cleared her throat, trying to maintain her composure under his steady gaze. “That doesn’t matter.”

He rubbed his chin. “Let me guess. You think I’m a cold, unfeeling jackass.”

She couldn’t help a smile. “Sounds like your familiar with the term.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

He shook his head. “Don’t skirt the question.”

“I don’t think you’re a jackass. I think you’re closer to a different kind of ass, but I’d prefer not to be specific.”

“A hardass?”

She smiled. “If you like.”

“And why is that?”

She had no intention of telling him. “I have a question.”

“Go on.”

“With this friendly little takeover that you discussed so eloquently I might add...”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“…I wonder what Barra Industries
really
intends to do with the home device that is so incredibly long lasting. Will it replace its current product that has half the lifespan or will it bury this new technology in the cemetery of other innovative ideas that industry finds threatening to the bottom line?”

“I really couldn’t tell you about that.”

“Because it’s a secret?”

“No, because that’s not my department.”

“How convenient.”

“You’re a smart woman. You know what keeps the economy strong. We laud the innovations of companies that allow people to introduce ways to upset long-standing employers such as the taxi and hotel industries. But when you look at the numbers, hotel and taxi companies employ tens of thousands of people. The others don’t. There are a number of innovations that would remove hundreds of thousands of jobs and our economy can’t sustain that. Both domestic and abroad. It’s all about the big picture.”

“That’s where we disagree. Too many things get buried and lost when only looking at the big picture. When only looking at the logistics of how to get from point A to point B. You’re the tanks that decimate villages, the bombs dropped from the sky, while I’m the field doctor bandaging up the bodies of those who survived.” She knew her words sounded hateful but couldn’t stop herself. She was angrier at herself than at him for her ridiculous attraction. She had to remind herself who he was and what he represented.

He nodded. “You’re right Carissa,” he said with a note of regret. “This is a war and you have to accept that Simus Labs lost. You must concede defeat and chose another battle to fight. Not this one.”

“Can I fight for the conqueror’s compassion?”

He sighed. “I’m surprised by your assumption that he has any.”

“Just reconsider Clyde.”

“All right,” he said then smiled.

Carissa felt her tension ease. It was a small concession for him, but a big victory for her. She was determined to get him to see the people, at least some of them, even if it got her fired. She understood his point of view, but buildings, lands and ownership would never replace lives. That was something she’d always stand up for.

The ax man had compassion. That was a pleasant surprise. But what shocked her more was how much she liked the sight of his smile.

***

At home, Carissa sorted through her mail trying not to think of how relieved she was that Riverton was reconsidering Clyde or how nice he looked when he smiled. He’d been dreaming about her pineapple cake? He’d never had split pea soup before? She could just imagine the look on his face if he got to try her version where she added…