Kiss Me Goodnight (3 page)

Some people might think I’m nuts, but my propensity for running the numbers six times has actually resulted in the elimination of most of the problems in payroll. In the last year, I’ve successfully transitioned us to a new system and straightened out the way we’re doing health care and retirement deductions. I’m all about the cost effectiveness.

Oh, I could go on about this all day, but I’m sure you, like my colleagues, are bored with the topic by now and barely amused by my enthusiasm. So I’ll keep it to myself. Davey, Jared, and Simon understand. They get a charge out of my enthusiasm. Suffice it to say, I could roll around in numbers and have multiple spontaneous orgasms. Just think about the phallic nature of the number 1. I like to write it thick, with a big base. Think of it as a clitoral stimulator.

I checked my appearance in the mirror over the sink. My hair fell just below my shoulders, curling in perfect ringlets. Other than putting some anti-frizz stuff in, I don’t take a lot of time with it, so when it turns out good, I’m always pleasantly surprised. I swiped a napkin under my eyes. Stress tends to make my mascara smear, and that just makes me look tired.

I’m not bad looking. Some have even called me pretty, and I don’t disagree. My eyes are large, but not too big. I have a cute nose, and the oval shape of my face has a pleasing symmetry.

I straightened my shirt and smoothed my skirt. The cut of both pieces emphasized my curves. I left the restroom feeling positive about myself, and that’s always a good sign.

My office assistant, a shaggy, skinny, awkward-looking man in his early forties, waylaid me as soon as I made it back to my department. Alec is a good-hearted person who never quite got over his Dungeons and Dragons phase, and I’m not sure he’s all that acquainted with the multiple grooming heads on his shaver. On the weekends, he dresses up in an elaborate costume he made himself and meets up with friends to act out games.

I’m not judging. He has a few good friends. That’s really all anybody needs to be happy. And he can sew. I have a few pairs of pants that could use hemming, but I haven’t worked up the courage to ask him if he’ll do it for me.

“Ms. Hallem, Mr. Pritchett, Jr., dropped by a few minutes ago. He wasn’t on your calendar.” Alec lifted his thick brows. His hazel eyes blazed with concern.

What I wouldn’t give to have him manscaped. I think he could be moderately cute if he tamed his facial hair.

It’s true that Mr. Pritchett wasn’t on my schedule, but I’d never admit to being concerned. Downsizing meant my job wasn’t safe. Nobody’s was. “What did he say?”

“He said for you to call him when you got back.”

I heaved a sigh, a big one. Before I could think about washing my hands again, I headed into my office and dialed Junior.

My call went straight to voice mail. I left something short and crisp that probably sounded uptight, worried, or bitchy. I worried about the first and last options, wishing I could erase the message and try five more times.

A man I assumed to be Mr. Pritchett, Jr., appeared at my office door about thirty seconds later, as if he’d been lurking, waiting for my call, and then sprinted in my direction as soon as the phone rang. He came in and closed the door. I could see Alec pacing by the long, thin window next to the door, and he shot me an anxious look.

Boss Junior didn’t look that old, which surprised me. Given that his father was seventy-two, I expected B.J. would be at least forty-five. I really should stop trying to estimate.
Counting
is my forte. I need to go with it.

Poised to disarm him, I put on a welcoming smile, willing myself to feel it in my bones so it would appear genuine. As I’ve said before, I’m damned good at this. My ploy must have worked, because surprise flitted across his face. His smile lit his eyes—pale brown like mine—and turned them a little lighter, the yellowish undertones making them glow a bit. He was moderately handsome. His light brown hair was clipped short and carefully styled, as was his goatee. I wanted to show this manscaping to Alec, to hold him up and say, “See, Alec? See what a little extra shaving time gets you?”

B.J. was average height, which meant he towered over me, and he wore a suit. Crisp, clean lines hinted at definition in his shoulders and hips. By all standards, he was attractive. Suave, sophisticated, rich, and probably built, he was totally anybody-with-a-pulse’s type. Yet I was neither attracted nor overly impressed, which meant B.J. was single. A quick glance at his left hand showed no evidence of him ever having worn a ring.

“Ms. Hallem, I need to meet with you.”

I lifted a superior brow. This was probably the only chance I’d ever have to get away with that kind of display. “Alec can set up an appointment for you.”

He laughed at me, but at least he tried to cover it up by coughing into his hand. “Now is good.”

He wasn’t very boss-like. The rumors swimming around the building had built him up to be some kind of heartless jerk. Maybe he was like an SBD fart: silent but deadly, creeping up on me when I least expected. I hoped I wasn’t about to be Dutch-ovened. I shrugged and gestured to a chair in the corner. If he was going to sneak up on me, at least we could sit down before I suffocated.

I really didn’t have meetings in my office. It was meant to house one person, and it did that beautifully. I was the head of payroll, a department of three. That didn’t lend itself to holding meetings. I attended them, but I did not call them.

B.J. dragged the chair close and set it near my desk. His gaze wandered across my highly organized workstation. If he stopped to count, he’d find six of everything. Or multiples of six. My OCD wasn’t
that
bad. Twelve packages of yellow sticky notes, eighteen pens, or my favorite, thirty-six paper clips.

He crossed his ankle over his knee and drummed his fingers on his thigh. When he looked at me, a hint of pink stained his cheeks as he studied my face. “Pritchett Incorporated has more employees than it can afford. Business isn’t as good as it was ten years ago.”

I was in high school ten years ago. I wasn’t sure about B.J. We stared at each other in an odd silence. The air should have crackled with tension. After all, I was pretty sure he was firing me, but the room did not grow heavy with the weight of my impending doom. I think we both found this development odd. If I had to pinpoint anything developing in the air between us, I’d have to go with a different kind of friction. That unsettled feeling in my tummy returned, though it was not as acute as it had been earlier with Dylan. Based on the way B.J. looked at me and then away, I guessed he was experiencing the same malady.

As we studied one another, I became aware of him as a man. I shifted and put some serious energy into resisting the urge to play with my hair or smile coyly. If we’d been in the coffee shop, I think he would’ve struck up a conversation culminating in a request for my phone number, and I would’ve given it to him.

B.J. rubbed his thigh, drawing my attention there, and picked at some lint on his sock—again, not very boss-like. “We’re downsizing to make the company salable. The alternative is to just close up shop.”

His tone was closer to “Hey, I like you. Want to grab coffee?” than “You’re about to lose your job.” I had no idea how to take that, so I ignored his tone and responded to the meaning behind his words.

“You,” I corrected him. “You are downsizing. We are being downsized, fired, terminated, let go, forced to retire.” I could have gone on, but from the way he paled, I think I got my point across. A lot of that friction circled the drainpipe.

“Look, I know I’m not the most popular guy around here, but this should’ve been done years ago.” He actually appeared apologetic while maintaining an alpha vibe. I found the dichotomy interesting and a little exciting.

But seriously, I’ve had enough excitement for today. I need to keep things calm for at least a few hours. And I could do that if B.J. would step out of my office and make an appointment with Alec for another day.

I rolled my eyes and heaved one of my famous (in my own mind) sighs at him. “Look, B.J., if you’re going to fire me, just do it. Whatever justification you need to sleep at night, go ahead and drink it.”

His mouth fell open. I don’t think anyone had reacted to him this way before. His uncomfortable, fidgety act probably made the others think they had to make him feel good about firing them, although to my knowledge nobody had actually been fired yet. But there had been a lot of talk, and most people who hadn’t already left were floating their résumés around and putting vacation plans on hold.

So why haven’t I? Great question. I have no answer.

He managed to position his mouth into a frown. “B.J.?”

I lifted a saucy brow. That’s right, my body parts are brazen. As a package, I’m not so confident, but in pieces, I’m freaking awesome. “Boss Junior. What were you expecting?”

From the awkward way he blushed, I knew he’d gone where I hadn’t, and this confirmed that he’d been admiring me. “I wasn’t expecting that. Most people just call me Thomas. Or Mr. Pritchett.”

“I thought your name was Jacob, same as your father.”

He winced. “I prefer Thomas.”

I can relate to that.

Putting both feet on the floor, he leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Look, Alice, I’m not here to fire you.”

“In that case, you can call me Lacey. Nobody calls me Alice. Alice doesn’t live here, ya know?”

From the baffled look on his face, clearly he didn’t. “Lacey, look —”

“You say that a lot. Is it a nervous affectation?” Like I have room to throw stones. If there were a sink in here, I’d be washing my hands. He might not be here to fire me today, but there’s no safety net for tomorrow or next week.

He pressed his lips together. It was good to know an opponent’s lines, limits, and tells. It looked like I’d found Thomas’s.

“Lacey, my father asked me to get this company into shape for sale because he can’t run it anymore, and none of his offspring want it.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Oh, here I go. This isn’t going to end well. “He probably has scores of illegitimate children out there who would jump at the chance to run this place.”

Thomas’s eyes widened for a split second, and he opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it and taking a moment. It was a sign of his good breeding that he gathered himself enough to ignore the tone of my remark. “I have two half-sisters. One is a stay-at-home mom, and the other wants to be a fashion designer. None of us wants to run a company that packages and ships things.”

“What about me?” I lifted my hands, palms out. “I’ll run it. I’d be damn good at it. Dad never acknowledged me before. Maybe now that I want to carry on his legacy, he will.” A tear welled in my eye.

Damn it! So close. So freaking close. Why couldn’t I finish this day without drama? Why did yet another thing have to test my resolve?

He blinked. The words were not sinking in.

“Oh, screw it.” I grabbed my purse and started shoving personal items into it. A few company pens might have been in the mix. “I’m so tired of trying to get his attention. I’ve saved this company a ton of money. I’ve been here long enough to prove my worth, to prove I can be the daughter he’s always wanted.”

More tears leaked from my eyes. I was into it now. I do love dramatic performances, even when I’m the one giving them.

Thomas stood and closed his hand over mine, putting a halt to my hurried packing. It was the second time today a man had thrown me off guard by restraining my movements.

“Lacey, what are you talking about?”

I looked up, right into his eyes. Misery seeped from my every pore. “Your dad knocked up my mom, and I’m the result. He’s paid her off for years. She kept it from me, but I found the letters, the contract that made her keep silent or he’d stop paying her. She needed that money! We were poor!”

Now he got it. His entire face transformed with shock. He staggered backward and plunked down onto his chair. “I knew my dad slept around, but I never dreamed I had another sister out there.”

Well, that sure took the wind out of my sails. I hadn’t expected him to believe me. I’d met his father. He was the grandfatherly type, always friendly and professional. I could more easily see him dressing up as Santa Claus than seducing a platoon of women. I sat down on the edge of my chair. Folding my hands together, I stared at them somberly. “Tell me what’s really going on, Thomas. I deserve to know.”

He rubbed his hand over his face, suddenly looking exhausted. “I came to get salary reports. We’re closing down. Within a month, this building will be for lease.”

I picked up my purse and threw a stapler into it. “Well, then I’m not sticking around. I quit.”

He watched me leave. I didn’t turn around to make sure—that would have ruined my exit—but I felt his gaze boring into the back of my skirt, most likely concentrating on the sway of my ass, as I went. I’d walked out on two men in one day. Both encounters had left me tingling, and neither was likely to result in anything.

Hell of a Monday.