The Geek Gets The Girl (6 page)

Just a little bit.

*

For some reason, work seemed to grow easier. Rachel couldn’t be sure why the computer apps she normally found confusing suddenly seemed to remind her of meetings or due projects. Nor could she figure why she could actually find the design files for which she’d been searching days.

She’d mark it off as getting her groove on and finally tapping into her creativity.

Because, seriously? Zac had stoked her fire last night. Call it orgasm mojo. This morning she’d flown out of bed, showered, and sang at the top of her lungs. She was surprised birds hadn’t helped her dress while squirrels bounced down the sidewalk accompanying her on the walk to the metro.

She sipped coffee and blushed. Yes, Rachel Parker was sitting alone in her office, getting all hot and bothered as she considered the intensity of Zac’s tongue tracing her skin and arriving at the sweet spot that he had known how to control. Was it because the man was already a master of various other kinds of buttons? He was certainly snapping the office computer system back into shape.

Amelie popped her head into the office and waved a stack of pink messages. Her bouncy ponytail thwapped her cheek. “You look pleased,” she said, though voiced as an uncertain question.

“I am pleased.” Rachel indicated her nearly clean desk. “LeTrec’s accounts are balanced, thanks to my clear head this morning. Now, I’ve just a few shipping invoices to approve and when I’m finished—”

“You’ll work on the design ideas for Friday’s meeting?”

“Crap.” She set the coffee mug down sharply on the glass desktop. “I forgot about that.” No, she hadn’t, she’d simply set it aside mentally until her coffee could be enjoyed. “Have you heard from the home office? When is that guy supposed to be here?”

“No idea. The person who sent me the memo heard it from another person who heard it from another person, who thinks they overheard a phone conversation.”

“Seriously? So this is all hearsay?”

Amelie winced. “I do trust my source.”

Rachel splayed out her fingers on the glass desktop, seeking calm. “Fine. I’ll deal with that disaster if and when it crosses my path. Now. The ad.”

“If you need some ideas for the meeting…”

She tilted her head at Amelie. “What do you mean?”

Amelie shrugged that sheepish little girl movement that always angered Rachel. Women should stand up for themselves and not shrink into the wallpaper at the mere opportunity to stand out.

“Spit it out, Amelie. Do you have ideas?”

“Actually, I have a few sketches. I like to doodle when I have downtime. They’re nothing really.”

How many times had Rachel used that phrase ‘nothing really,’ when inside, her soul had been beaming, waiting to break free and show the world what she could do?

“Show me.”

Amelie nodded and bounced out.

Curious, Rachel strolled out to her secretary’s desk, and when Amelie handed her a sketchbook, she poked her at the base of her spine, a move her mother had made many a time to make her stand up straight.

“Your voice is stronger when you stand up straight. And you look better when you hold your shoulders back. Work it like you mean it.”

“I try. I just…what do you think?”

Rachel paged through the spiral-bound book, which featured sketches of shoes, and even a few pages of ad ideas. It was remarkable. “You’ve got the storyboard process mastered. This one is interesting. The couple on the couch, talking about her shoes. But not sexy enough.”

“I have trouble with the sex,” Amelie confessed. “I never know how far is too far.”

Rachel handed her the sketchbook. “I know what this pitiful office has to do to survive getting axed. We need to sex up the company’s campaign.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very sexy.”

“Nonsense.” She took in Amelie’s proper black slacks and white dress shirt. Office attire. “You just…need to let your mind wander. When you think about shoes and sex, what comes up?”

Amelie winced. “Incompatible?”

“Really?” Rachel rather enjoyed wearing shoes to bed with a lover. “What comes up are long, sexy legs ending in fuck-me pumps, kicking the air as her lover licks her skin, mapping out her erogenous zones.”

“Wow,” Amelie said on a gasp.

Right. Wow. She was still flying high from last night. Did it show? She didn’t care. For the first time in months, confidence had returned to soar through her veins.

“I need to get back to work.” To focus the high she was feeling on business before it got her in trouble. “Hold my calls. And, I’ll be working late to hash out the campaign. I’d…like to incorporate your ideas, Amelie. Would you mind?”

“Mind?” Amelie squealed, pressing the sketchbook to her chest. “I’d be honored!”

“Excellent. And do see if you can get solid information from headquarters about our visiting bigwig.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and Amelie?”

“Yes, Miss Parker?”

“Keep sketching.” Rachel winked at her and strode down the hallway, smiling to herself when she heard the quietest ‘yes’ of triumph echo out from her secretary’s cubicle.

*

Zac stood before the window that ended the long entry hallway in the eleventh arrondissement apartment his mother had once occupied. Dusty and bare of linens and curtains, he’d opted for the hotel instead of fighting dust bunnies. His mother had lived here nine months out of the year. The other three months had been devoted to travel and visiting him in New York. The top-floor apartment had roof access that led to a neat collection of beehives that were still serviced by a local apiarist. Zac’s mother had loved bees, and one of Haute Heels’ first shoes had been ‘bumblebee yellow.’

He sighed now, remembering the funeral ten years earlier. His mother had died young but had lived a good life. Ever traveling, learning, and always the first with hugs and the question, ‘What makes you happy?’

So what made him happy lately? The prospect of having to close the one office his mother had coddled through the decades certainly didn’t; it killed him. She lived in every piece of dated wallpaper, chipped-painted cornices, and even the scooped-shell marble basins in the bathrooms. He didn’t want to close the office.

But he wasn’t stupid. And if his trusted Operations Director said the office needed to go, it would go. The bottom line always mattered. Though, he wondered now… If Rachel could actually manage to throw together a campaign that would wow the clients on Friday, he’d hold off on pronouncing the office closed.

He wanted to see her succeed. She deserved success. She’d done a remarkable job holding the office together since the previous manager’s exit. And working with little funds—corporate had to assume some responsibility for that.

His mother would have never allowed such neglect from corporate. And as Zac pressed his fingers to the window now, and thought to still smell a lingering wisp of Channel No. 5—his mother’s signature scent—he mentally promised her he’d do what he could to see this office resurrected.

And he wasn’t going to sell this apartment. Not yet. Not until…

He did travel. And Paris was a stop at least once a year. If he hired a maid to come in every few months, it would be nice to have a landing place. And if he had reason to stay longer, perhaps because there was someone special who lived in the same city…

Zac shook his head. What the hell was he doing? He’d just met Rachel, and they’d had no-strings sex. That did not a relationship make. Besides, he wasn’t the guy who did relationships. He was the corporate raider who kept a different woman in every city and generally wore arm candy to events. But to get to know those pretty and mindless props?

Ugh. He’d just considered women as props. Rachel was no man’s prop. What an amazing woman! Could he hope to earn her respect and admiration?

“You’ve gone about things the wrong way,” he muttered. “You need to tell her who you are.”

Chapter 7

The office was quiet, the overhead fluorescent lights out. The soft glow of floor lights that lined the walls gave off enough illumination to see around the cubicles. Zac had arrived just as the employees were leaving. Excellent. Now he had opportunity to really look around.

Much as the Paris office was failing spectacularly, Zac couldn’t force himself to hit the fire ‘em all button. And it wasn’t because he’d slept with the office manager and had developed a sweet spot for her gorgeous set of gams. 

It was because Rachel Parker possessed a vitality and determination that he believed could pull this office up from the depths, and maybe—just maybe—breathe new life into it.

But she couldn’t do that without an excellent support team. And did she really enjoy her position as office manager? Or did she prefer to be back in marketing? He’d had a glimpse into her creative mind—it needed feeding. But he also felt strongly about her supervisory skills.

Pausing in the supply room doorway, he gave his thin Zegna tie a tug and loosened the tight knot. Since arriving at this office, he’d felt more relaxed, not so inclined to support the stern corporate raider image he’d mastered over the years.

But he was lying to Rachel every day he did not confess who he really was. The lie hadn’t bothered him two days ago. Even yesterday, when he’d learned she might have a clue about the secret visit. Who at the New York office had alerted Paris to his presence?

Such secrecy was…stupid. It had initially felt necessary, to not alarm the employees. But now? Zac was rethinking that plan. The employees were people. People who had families and mouths to feed. They had a right to know what was going on.

As did Rachel. Something had developed between them beyond the personal relationship. A sort of business trust. And while not revealing his position in the company wasn’t going to kill anyone, it would definitely drive a wedge between him and Rachel.

Was that a problem? It shouldn’t be. He’d flown to Paris for the week. After today, two business days remained. He’d fly home. Life would move on. Whether or not he decided to keep this office intact.

It was this no-strings thing they had started. Hell, if he was muddling over it so much, it must mean he wanted to take it to the next level. The I’ll call you, you call me level. The I’ll see you exclusively level. The can I keep a change of clothing in your apartment? level.

“Really?” he muttered. 

No woman had ever gotten under his skin so quickly. And if he pursued the taking it to the next level idea, then he wasn’t sure how it would work for them on the business side of things. He couldn’t have both relationships. Could he? Why else had he decided to keep the apartment if not because he had hope for the two of them?

He shook his head.

A moan from down the hallway alerted Zac that he wasn’t the only one in the office. He spied the dim light coming out of the office manager’s doorway. Of course, she would still be here. The woman was dedicated.

And yet, she had moaned. Had that been a good moan or a bad moan? And if it had been good, why was he still standing there?

Wandering down the aisle, he arrived at her door, smirked at the paper sign—she deserved a nice bronze plate—and pushed it inward. Shoes in open boxes were scattered over the floor, the black leather couch, and the desk. Shoes in every color, style, and heel height. He didn’t immediately notice a human occupant until a box toppled from a stack and another moan echoed out.

“That bad, huh?”

“Who’s there?” echoed out from around the corner of her desk. “Zac? I thought everyone had left for the day. I didn’t even see you come in.”

“I was finishing up some last minute—er, stuff.” Like vacillating on whether or not to shut down the office. “Thought I was the only one here. What’s up with the shoe deluge?” 

Rachel’s head popped around the corner of the desk and she thrust out a fuchsia satin heel. “What do you find sexy about this shoe?”

Zac tapped a finger against his lower lip and eyed the shoe, which he knew was part of the new fall line. Haute Heels had gone with deep, jewel tones to emulate a rich, decadent lushness. But if he revealed he knew that the shank had been engineered to expose the arch of the foot because men found that sexy, she’d know he knew too much.

“The pointed shape of the toe,” he decided. “It’s wicked.”

She tilted her head, assessing the shoe. “It is wicked. You nailed it in less than three seconds. I’ve been sitting here all afternoon, racking my brain over ideas for the campaign meeting on Friday, and you nail it like that.”

“All afternoon? You need a break.”

“No. Nope. Nada. I will not leave this office until I’ve something to present to the Les Grands Chaussures in two days. I’ve got some notes from Amelie. She’s very talented. I like this idea she’s sketched, but not sure how to execute it.”

He waded through the sea of footwear and plucked the fuchsia shoe from Rachel’s hand, while grabbing her hand with the other and pulling her to her feet. He handed her the shoe. “Put it on.”

“What?”

“Have you worn any of them?” He splayed his hands to take in the scattered boxes of shoes. “The best way to get a feel for the product is to wear it, isn’t it?”