His Name Is Sir (The Power to Please #3) (9 page)

“I wish I knew how the sale got leaked to everybody. Guess it doesn’t matter now. I’ve been working on a memo to send out company-wide. It’s finished. I only need to send it.”

We both looked at her monitor.

She said, “Guess now is as good a time as any.”

She moused around on her desk, sighed and clicked. There it went.

Isabel pulled herself up, slapped her hands down on her desk. “That’s that.”

She paused and gave me a firm look, then said, “Fate, Nonnie, is the ultimate seductress; she will always have her way with you.”

“Who said that?”

“I just did.”

“Good one.”

“Eh,” she said. “So, the memo. I’ve told everyone that the Lintons are considering selling the company and that a group of employees from the interested party will be arriving this morning to check us out. I told them there’s no reason to be alarmed about future changes, that nothing’s been settled, so on and so forth.”

“Sounds like you covered everything.”

“I’ll be meeting with department heads shortly, let them know they’ll likely be meeting with the inspection team. Someone will probably want to meet with you, too. I’ll let you know when.”

I nodded.

She continued, “For now, I need you to go out there and mingle. Squelch the rumors about firings, and whatever else might make the herd stampede. Got it?”

“I’m on it.” I stood and made my way to the door.

“Oh, and Nonnie,” she said, “Thanks for the coffee.”

I smiled. “Any time, boss.”

I managed to hold that smile for nearly an hour while I went around the office, to all the different departments and tried to soothe frayed nerves, tried to pretend like I didn’t have any tattered nerves of my own. It was a relief when I could return to my desk and drop into my seat.

I clicked on my e-mail and read Isabel’s memo. It was basically exactly what she said, except it noted that the inspection team would arrive at eleven o’clock. That was less than half an hour from now.

Damn those Lintons, I thought. They could have given us more warning, more time to prepare. I’d never met a Linton I liked. Not one. They were self-absorbed jerks who had inherited their wealth but acted like they had earned it, deserved it, and were superior to everyone else for having it. Puke.

Well, no point in dwelling on it. I had my work to do, for now anyway. I settled into reviewing the office budget for the next quarter.

At a few minutes past eleven, my phone rang. It was Stephanie, the main company receptionist.

She hissed in a half whisper, “They’re here! Oh my God! They’re going to the conference room with Isabel.”

“Okay,” I said. “Don’t stare or anything.”

“I’m not,” she said, sounding put out with me for giving her such an obvious warning. “Gotta go.”

Click. She was gone. Probably calling someone else to let them in on the latest.

It was tempting to take a peek at the new arrivals, but I restrained myself. The last thing Isabel would want is everyone standing around the conference room peering in the windows.

Speaking of which, I thought, maybe I’d better go make sure that wasn’t happening.

I waited a few minutes, then craned my neck out my doorway. I could see the conference room from there, was pleased to discover no gawkers milling around. The blinds on the windows of the conference room were shuttered, so there was nothing to see. Isabel’s doing, undoubtedly.

I went back to my desk and tried to get into the budget again. No luck. I knew it was no good. I couldn’t concentrate. I might as well go to lunch.

Since it wasn’t terribly hot outside, I headed to a nearby park and bought a pita sandwich from my favorite cart along the way. I sat on a wooden bench and ate, not really tasting anything.

I could be losing my job. That’s all I could think about. A scruffy woman shambled by in a pair of ancient slippers that I thought may have once been pink and fluffy, but were now grey and matted with filth.

I called after her, and when she didn’t turn around, I jogged over to her and gave her the unbitten half of my sandwich. She snatched it from my hand with a suspicious glare, then quickly shuffled away.

I returned to my bench. Homeless people. You always saw them in the parks. She probably had a hidey hole around here somewhere, her sleeping spot at night. I shuddered.

I could be her so easily. I learned that lesson when I was young, trying to support my ex-husband and myself with a couple of minimum wage jobs. A bout of the flu that lasted too long, one missed paycheck, and we would have been out on the streets. That’s how close it was every month, every week, every day.

I had no reliable safety net back then. I still didn’t. My parents had long since basically disowned me, and wouldn’t give me a dollar even if I gave them the satisfaction of asking for one, which I wouldn’t.

I had friends who could help a little, but not enough, and not for long. I had some savings, but once again, not enough to last for long. If I lost my job at Linton Cosmetics and didn’t find a new one within a few months ... I could be that homeless woman.

My stomach hurt. I got up and tossed the rest of my sandwich in a trash can. I needed to walk.

I had to stop thinking this way or I’d lose it. I was overreacting. It was too soon to panic. Wait. Listen. Plan. Then act. The four steps to rational action, that’s what Isabel had told me more than once. I wondered if I could get a temporary tattoo of it on my arm to keep me grounded during the coming change.

And when was the last time I updated my resume? Oh, that’s right. Never. Hell.

I wandered around the park until it was time to return to work. The fresh air and exercise did me some good, and I seated myself at my desk much calmer than when I left it.

Around one o’clock, Isabel called me and said that one of the visitors wanted to meet with me. She said he’d come to my office for the meeting in a few minutes.

“Be honest, polite, and give him whatever he wants,” she said. “We’ve got no secrets here.”

I assured her I could handle it, and she told me she knew I could, which was a nice thing to hear.

I dug around in my desk and file cabinets, pulling some files I figured the man might want to see. Then sure enough, in a few minutes, I realized someone was standing in my doorway. I looked up. Started.

It was Gibson Reeves.

I stood, gaped for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry. I can’t talk right now. I’ve got a meeting. So ...”

Gibson nodded politely, said, “I’m your meeting.”

Well, I’ll be damned, I thought. My grandfather always used to say that when something thoroughly stymied him. I’ll be damned. Seriously.

Gibson entered, then shut the door before he strolled over and took a seat in front of my desk.

I plopped down in my chair and stared at him. He was his usual calm, put-together self, looking as handsome as ever in an expensive, tailored suit.

As for me, I was anything but calm and put together. My mind was calculating possibilities and explanations at a furious rate. His gaze roved over my face and down to my chest while I considered my options.

Finally, I said, “I’m not a big believer in coincidence. What are you up to?”

He answered, “I’m considering the purchase of Linton Cosmetics.”

“Don’t be coy.”

He gave a brief laugh, a momentary “ha.” I don’t think I’d ever heard the man laugh before, had I? I couldn’t recall it, if I had.

He said, “I’m telling you the truth.”

I said, “So, I’m to believe that it’s some big surprise that you happen to be buying the company I work for, and you happened to discover that I work here, just now. It’s all some crazy, messed-up alignment of cosmic forces that has you sitting in my office right here, right now.”

He grinned widely. Damn, the man was a knock-out when he grinned.

“No,” he said, “I wouldn’t expect you to believe that.”

“Then tell me what to believe, Gibson. Tell me you didn’t know I worked here before you got here today.”

He said, “I can’t tell you that. I knew, I know everything, right down to your salary and benefit package and how many days of sick leave you’ve taken this year.”

I glowered.

He continued before I had the chance to say something rude. “In fact, I only came today because you work here. Normally, I’d just send my usual crew for an inspection of a minor acquisition like this.”

A minor acquisition. He knew my salary and benefit package. He was here because of me. I asked, “Are you buying this business because of me, because I work here? What are you up to?”

He didn’t even blink at my question. “How about, what would I like to be up to? Right now, I’d like to strip you naked, bend you over your desk, and spank your little ass until you apologize for the way you dismissed me at the club Friday night.”

Kerthunk, the sound my heart made at his answer. Were my eyebrows still on my head, or were they stuck to the ceiling?

He said, “As for why I might be buying this company, that’s been an ongoing discussion for a while now. Frank Linton approached my people about six months ago, wanted to know if we were interested in buying his family’s cosmetics business. So the answer is no, I’m not buying this company because you work here. I might not be buying Linton Cosmetics at all. That decision hasn’t been made yet.”

I got myself back in hand and said, “I see. So it is, after all, something of a coincidence, your being here today.”

“No, I told you. I came to see you ... mostly.”

I took a deep breath. “This isn’t a game for me, for any of us here. We need our jobs, and we need this company.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“I hope so. If you do buy, what are your plans for us?”

He looked at me for a moment, then answered, “I haven’t decided that yet.”

“We just heard about this today, you know, that the Lintons want to sell.”

He seemed surprised. “No, I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Well, they actually told Isabel yesterday. The rest of us found out this morning.”

“I see. That’s unfortunate.”

“Yes.” I waited, hoping that now he might offer me some reassurance about his plans, what we could expect in the future. Anything. Anything at all.

He said nothing. He only sat there and watched me.

I was confused. I knew nothing about how Gibson did business. I could hardly remember the name of his company. I discovered it when I did an Internet search on him, weeks and weeks before. Something to do with trees. Rain tree maybe. No. Round tree. That was it. Roundtree Holdings.

Remembering the name didn’t help with what I really wanted to know. A man like Gibson Reeves. So self-contained, unemotional and removed. And that was in his private life. I couldn’t expect him to have more compassion in his business life, could I?

No, that was ridiculous.

And then there was this other thing going around and around in my head. What, exactly, did it say about me that I couldn’t stop thinking about Gibson bending me over my desk and spanking me? Honestly. There had to be something wrong with me.

I recalled Isabel telling me to give our visitor whatever he wanted. I swallowed my nervous laugh.

Maybe I could get my mind out of the gutter if Gibson would quit looking at my lips.

Okay, focus. Think about this. If everything I had heard about him were true, he was a very successful businessman. I didn’t know exactly how rich he was, but from Michael’s account, Gibson had scads of money. Some of it he inherited, but much of it he earned himself.

So he had to be good at what he did. If he bought Linton Cosmetics, he would likely be an improvement over the losers who owned it now. Wouldn’t he? He would have to be. No one could be worse than the Lintons.

Maybe this was a good thing.

And Gibson seriously needed to stop staring at my breasts.

He needed to quit looking so damned handsome, too. Especially when he grinned. Yes, especially then.

I couldn’t help myself. I asked, “So you’re p.o.’d about how I ‘dismissed’ you the other night, huh?”

There was that grin. “I wouldn’t say I’m p.o.’d.”

“Oh, sorry. Appalled, maybe? No, too strong. Offended? I bet that was it. You were offended.”

His face went all smooth and polite. I had called it correctly, which gave me more than a little satisfaction.

He said, “It was nothing a good spanking wouldn’t cure.”

I smiled sweetly. “Sorry, I don’t swing that way. You’ll have to find another woman to warm your backside.”

“Are you sure about that? Your mouth says no, but your nipples say yes.”

What? I looked down at my chest. Sure enough, my nipples were hard. Well, that was embarrassing. Shouldn’t have worn that thin, lace bra today, but I’d been feeling sexy after the weekend and ... hell. Embarrassing.

I played it off with a shrug. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s cold in here. The a/c is out of whack. You can fix it when you buy the place.”