by Jean Oram
Using the data on her cell phone, she logged into Connor’s email system.
She swallowed hard. Five hundred thirty-three unread emails.
Maya began scrolling through them, reading names of individuals she’d only dreamed of contacting. There were invitations to cocktail events. Interoffice memos. Newsletters. Ongoing conversations. Where should she start?
A memo caught her eye in regards to Connor’s vacation time. Obviously, whoever sent it had forgotten to take him off the list. She opened the email and scanned it. It was very to the point. He was taking time off and his contact person would be her, Maya Summer. An email address was listed for her—a company one she hadn’t accessed yet because she didn’t know it existed. Crap.
She redialed Em.
“Am I supposed to have an office email?”
“Yes.”
“Could you maybe share the password?”
“Texting it now.”
Maya clicked off, shaking her head. She got the password and logged into her new CME email account, figuring nobody would have emailed her.
Fifty-four messages, and none of them looked like a “welcome to the team!” Blinking, Maya trudged down the path. Time to hook up to the cottage’s WiFi and do some serious email culling.
As she walked, she skimmed the subject lines. One doofus wanted her to photocopy things for him. Was he for real? Didn’t he realize she was Connor’s personal assistant, and that she wasn’t even in the Toronto office?
This was going to be a long two weeks.
Exciting. But long.
“I don’t get it,” she said into the phone to Em the next morning. “I was up half the night and I still can’t see how CM Enterprises is going to profit from this acquisition.”
The lumberyard CME was working on could do some real damage to Connor’s bottom line. It wasn’t like his other acquisitions or mergers, and while she didn’t have access to every single file of his, she had enough common sense and financial knowledge to know that not only did this not fit a trend, but its purchase price seemed overinflated.
She had tried to broach the topic over breakfast, but Connor had pushed away from his half-eaten egg on toast with something that looked like fear hiding in his gaze. He hadn’t come out of his room since.
And now she was getting brick walls from Em.
“Can I talk to one of his advisors?” Maya asked.
“I’ll patch you through to James,” the secretary said with a reluctant sigh. “But know that this isn’t really your business.”
“As Connor’s assistant in charge of this stuff, I think it is. If there is a problem with the acquisition that nobody else has seen, then as an employee I have a duty to not only tell him, but to look into it more thoroughly.” Especially with Connor being so out of it.
“Just don’t go getting everyone riled up over nothing. These guys have a lot of experience and sway with Connor.”
“Can you put me through, Em?”
She sighed and there was a click on the line.
“James speaking.” The man’s voice was tough, with an edge to it, and Maya had to remind herself that she wasn’t some lowly backwoods gal, she was Connor’s assistant. It was her job to get to the bottom of this, and to understand it so she could do right by her boss.
“This is Maya Summer. I’m Connor’s assistant while Stella is on vacation.”
“Who?”
“Maya Summer.”
There was a long pause. Was he playing the I’m-too-important-to-remember-some-lowly-assistant game or was he waiting for her to proceed?
“I was talking to Em, and she said you could answer some of my questions.”
No reply. Was he still there?
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
“I’m filling in for Stella. I have the necessary clearance, if that is your concern.”
“Have you worked with Connor before?”
“I have not.”
“What are your qualifications?”
“Connor hired me.” She kept her voice low, dry, and unimpressed. She was not going to prove herself to this man. She needed information and he had to give it to her. “I’m his representative—”
“No, you are not, but carry on.” His tone told her she was going to have to do some serious convincing to get him on her side. “What do you need from me that Connor doesn’t already know?”
Wow. His mother must have trouble distinguishing him from a donkey.
“I have a few questions about the lumberyard acquisition.”
“Do you now?”
“Yeah. Namely, how is Connor going to profit from this? I must be missing some pieces in my files.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have time to explain this to someone who doesn’t understand. This is my project and my assistants are taking care of the details. Connor can continue being oblivious as to how hard we’re all working to keep him afloat.”
Was this one of the situations where she should have tried connecting with him, such as her mother had suggested? He was totally shutting her out, which only served to make Maya more curious about what she was missing.
“What is the overall purpose of this acquisition?” she asked.
“I think this is above your pay level.”
“And I think you are being difficult. Seventy percent of corporate mergers fail, you know.”
“This isn’t a merger, it’s an acquisition, so what exactly is your point?”
“Why would a financial company take over a sawmill?”
“Lumberyard.”
“Same difference. But this is like adding a chair to a cloud.”
“Look, there are a lot of nuances in this business that secretaries aren’t aware of.”
“I am not a secretary. I have a degree in business and I understand that this one says fail all over it unless we do something.”
“We? How long are you here for?”
“Two weeks.”
“Right. So, not a royal we.”
La-di-da.
“I still don’t understand how this overvalued lumberyard fits in, and will make Connor money.”
“Maya, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Worry about your job. I’ll worry about mine.”
“All right, then shall I send this overvaluation to accounting and see what they think?”
“It’s already been sent.” What little patience had been in his voice was gone.
“It’s not marked in the system.”
“I’ll let my assistant know.”
“And what should I do when the shareholders ask why Connor’s financial company is acquiring a sawmill?”
“Well, since you will not be invited to that meeting, I’ll express that we are interested in growth and positive value. Merging and acquisitions is about expanding our reach. This helps build a new direction for the company.”
What a load of bullpucky.
“We know what we’re doing, Maya, so you worry about getting his highness coffee, doing photocopying, and staying out of the way. My assistants will continue to deal with this project.” He hung up the phone and Maya smiled.
Oh yeah, there was something worth investigating there. She could feel it.
Connor tried to make his hands stop trembling. Could someone be addicted to work? Because his hands were shaking as though he was suffering from withdrawal as Maya passed her phone to him, an app open to the interoffice message she insisted he read.
He sucked in a deep breath, loving the dry, old-wood smell of the cottage. He’d been fine all morning and all afternoon by distracting himself with the new business of taking care of his body. Of avoiding Maya when she got that intense, hungry look. Which was pretty much all the time since she’d opened the box of files from Em.
But this. He should push the phone away. Right now.
“It’s your advisors,” Maya said. “Tag teaming me.”
“Tag teaming?” Connor took the phone.
“They—well, just
James really—doesn’t trust me and is going to sandbox me.”
“Why doesn’t he trust you?” His heart clenched as he thought of the information she had access to. Stella had vetted her, but Stella had been pretty eager to get out of Dodge. What if Maya wasn’t who Stella thought she was? What if…?
He skimmed the message and let out a relieved sigh. James was only freaking out over her eager questions. Typical spitfire Maya stuff. He could get over that.
“How’d you get access to my account?”
Maya’s shifting back and forth ceased, and she took a sharp breath. “Stella gave it to me. She said important things might come through this and to check it a few times a day.”
Connor kept a firm grip on one end of Maya’s phone, not releasing it when she gave it a tug. She seemed apologetic. Confused. But the thing that struck him the most was that she’d brought the message to him instead of deleting it. That had to count for something.
He released her phone. “How did you rile them up, anyway?”
“The sawmill lumberyard thing. It doesn’t fit your profile.”
“My profile?” He studied her.
“Yeah, why lumber?”
“What?” His mind refused to chug forward. He wasn’t sure if it was the fire in her eyes or the soft, feminine scent wafting his way, but he couldn’t seem to think.
“I don’t see how it can bring in a profit for you.”
“Look, my advisors are a bunch of butt-kissing pricks who usually wait for me to advise them. They aren’t dumb, but this is the first time James has made a suggestion—a decent one at that—so I’m going to go with it. Both James and Bill are good businessmen. They made a plan and James made a compelling presentation. I trust them.”
Maya nodded slowly, holding his gaze. Man, she was strong. It made him want to hold her in his arms and let her heal him one day at a time.
“I see,” she said. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t trust them explicitly. Maybe they’re still too green.”
“Green?”
“If they always come to you? Maybe they still need overseers.”
“Are you offering?”
“Is that what you need?”
Connor ran his fingers through his hair and let out a chuckle. She’d go running the other way if he told her what he needed from her right now.
“No, but I’d like to know what you think.” He moved closer, not sure what kind of game he was playing. By the way her eyes grew rounder and her chest expanded as she leaned nearer, he knew she felt whatever was surging through him, too.
“I…” She appeared to be puzzling through something. “It’s a gut thing.”
“Well, unless it is vital, I’d suggest you let it go.” He bent nearer as though he was going to kiss her, and her lips parted. “You’re smart. Fix whatever needs fixing. I trust you.”
He leaned away and she caught herself, straightening up as she shot him a slightly dirty look. He waved his arms as though making his way out of a spider’s web, and headed to the screen door, wishing vodka was on the recover-faster list. Hanging out with Maya was confusing him. It made him want things he shouldn’t. Such as sleeping with his assistant.
His hands were shaking again, and he rested against the railing, inhaling the island’s pine scent. He needed to clear his mind and ignore the three hundred questions he had running through his brain. Maya might be trigger happy, but she wasn’t dumb. Her reputation was at stake, and he knew she wanted a good reference. Hopefully, that would keep her in line until he could get back to work, in a week and a half. All he had to do was remember to breathe and take care of himself, and it would all work out.
The woman seriously wouldn’t quit. She was all business all the time. Didn’t Maya know how torturous it was hanging out in the same cottage as her? Connor rubbed his face and blinked twice, trying to summon patience, and enough of an attention span that he could focus on what she was saying. He’d been sitting so still a chipmunk, tail raised above its striped back, had scuttled within a few feet of him. Then Maya had come barging out of the cottage as though her hair was on fire, her eyes lit up with passion.
He used to seek out that sort of passion to spur his own. Now he dreaded it. He rubbed his chest and steadied his breathing.
“I was reading your emails and you got this.” She passed him a piece of paper, her body practically vibrating with excitement.
“You’re printing off my emails?” He willed himself not to care that she was printing what was probably confidential. It was her paper, her ink. But what else was she copying? And was she shredding stuff when she was done? “Did you clear the background check and sign the company’s confidentiality and noncompete agreements?”
“Of course I did!” She tapped the paper. “This is a business proposition that I think has some serious potential. And no, I’m not printing out all your documents like I’m a federal agent collecting a case against you. I can see what you’re thinking, Connor.”
He passed the sheet back to her, but she refused to take it. “I thought I told you I was on vacation.”
She held her breath for a few seconds, then sat in the chair across from him, elbows propped on her knees. “I know, but…”
“I don’t want to be bothered. If it isn’t vital, let it go.”
“Then why didn’t you hire someone in the city?” She stood again, her body arched toward him in a way that was definitely intriguing.
If he were twenty years younger…
He rubbed his eyelids with a thumb and index finger. They were almost the same age. He needed this vacation so he could get his life back. His self back. And while he was at it, he needed to find a way to release his pent-up sexual frustration.
“Delete those emails, Maya. They’re junk. And then leave me alone to chill out. Capisce? I’m trying to take a vacation.”
“But they’re looking for a financial backer, and you would be perfect for this.”
“Because I have money? I don’t have time to babysit a project with a bunch of newbie entrepreneurs who have sunk their life savings, plus some, into some lame project and want me to magically make them millions.”
Her lips curved in a smile. “You watch Dragons’ Den?”
“I used to, but that has—”
“Kevin O’Leary has a cottage not far from here.”
“Are you having him over for coffee to tell him about these people? I believe both shows hold auditions, Maya.”
“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” She flashed an impish grin, not at all put off by Connor’s attitude. It made him want to up their banter to see what it took to get to her.
“You ever heard one of those stories of people who’ve won the lottery, Maya?”
She nodded, her lips in a perfect pouty frown of disapproval. He wanted to kiss her until those lips were a bruised cherry red.
“People appear out of the woodwork, all with ideas on how they can spend your money,” he continued. “They get it, spend it, and forget about you once you’re broke again.” He waited for her to see his point. “I’m that lottery winner, but I’m not gullible or that warm and generous. I protect my investments.”
“This would be an investment, though. They have a product that—”
“Maya, it doesn’t matter. They all have a great pitch. Well, okay, not everybody.”
“They want forty thousand and are offering you fifty percent of their company.”
“Maya…” The more she talked, the more he wanted to know. It was his curiosity rearing up—a trait that had always served him well. But he was too tired. Too tired to start learning about a pile of new businesses. Especially when he could barely run his own company and seemed to be playing shadow tag with the grim reaper.
“Won’t you consider them?”
He crumpled the paper and chucked it back to her. She caught it, looking determined, as though she was figuring out which angle would work with him to get what she wanted.
“Are they personal friend
s or something?”
She jerked her chin up, obviously insulted.
“Then what?” he asked.
“It sounds solid. I’d like to meet with them.”
“You have forty K?”
She shook her head.
“I like you, Maya.”
“But?”
“I’m on vacation! I said I don’t want to be involved in anything unless it’s an emergency. This is not an emergency. I need rest. I haven’t had a vacation in years, and right now I am trying to keep a promise to myself. One where I kick back and don’t think about work for two weeks. If you can’t help me with that, I’m going to have to go elsewhere.”
She swallowed quickly, her posture straightening. “You won’t even know I’m here. I mean, that I’m working. That you have emails—”
“Get the vodka, Maya. You’re strung way too tight.”
She paused on the edge of her chair.
He closed his eyes. “Just get it. We both need it to survive each other right now.”
She banged her way through the loose screen door, and he let out a quiet curse. Wasn’t anyone going to fix that rotten thing?
7
Maya passed the half-empty liquor bottle back to Connor. They’d started off mixing vodka and Coke and using glasses, but that had been hours ago. Since then, she’d roasted veggies on the barbecue, as well as chicken breasts that, despite their blackened edges, had been pretty good, if she did say so herself. Or maybe it was just the vodka that made everything taste as though it was the best food she’d ever made.
They were almost to the bottom of the bottle now and had succumbed to passing it back and forth, swigging as they went. She was beyond drunk. And she was too warm. They were breaking heat records in Toronto and, despite it always being cooler out on the island, she was feeling the heat. The hot air pressed in on her, inescapable, and the way her shirt was sticking to her skin was driving her wild. If the lake wasn’t so far away, she’d go for a dip.
“So what do you like most about being out here?” Connor asked, passing back the bottle.
