“No, it’s Liza I want. Our personalities just clicked, you know?” I smiled to myself. The girl was flippin’ terrified of me, and when I was her boss, I’d done nothing to assuage her fears. Much to my delight, Jeremy had not come prepared to play cards tonight. “It is transfer time. I’ll have a chat with Bob and see if we can’t come to some sort of an agreement.”
He soundlessly shook his head in a horrified no.
“It’s really the least you can do. A promise is a promise.”
“Susan—”
I burst out laughing. “Jeremy! One, you’re in love with her—don’t deny it. And two, the last thing I’d ever want is to break someone’s heart. And speaking of…my fiancé knows a great jeweler. I’ll forward you the name.”
Pale to pink to normal, his complexion didn’t gray, which was a very good thing, nor did he hyperventilate. He was considering it, then. Good. Jeremy was not only one of the more competent managers in the company, but he was also a downright decent human being.
“You are a horrible lady, you know that?”
“Learned from the beast,” I said with a snort.
“Speaking of, how long do you think they’ll keep her in North Dakota?”
“Until she rots, I hope.”
♥
I had scheduled my three secretarial interviews during Wednesday’s lunch break. Interview number one went pretty much like this:
Me: “I see from your file that this will be your first transfer. Why are you interested in this particular position?”
Her: “I like the South. I mean, I’ve never been there before, but from the movies, it seems like the perfect fit. I mean, the passion, you know? Oh, and those poor slaves, like in that Oprah movie, The Color Purple? I want to do something to help.”
Me, on the verge of hysterics: “Um, slavery was abolished in 1865.”
Her, eyeing me dubiously: “Really? That’s…are you sure?”
Me, smacking forehead: “How do you feel about living in a small town?”
Her: “Oh, God no! I’m a city-girl through and through”—smacks on gum—“a big shopper, and a supporter of the arts. Theater, especially.”
Me, rolling eyes: “The nearest actual city is two hours away.”
Her, fixing jaw back in place: “I guess I can commute. I take the train in from Jersey every day. Living in Philadelphia is too expensive…and all the traffic.” Visibly shivers.
Me, with sneaking suspicion: “You do drive, correct?”
Her: “You mean, like, do I have a license?”
Me: Nodding.
Her: No. I prefer public transportation. Subways, taxis—you know, the usual.”
Me, smiling tightly: “Yeah, we don’t have any of those. Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Her: “Oh, married, two kids, a house in the burbs.” Fluffs hair that would make Dottie proud. “You know, I thought you were a man when I applied.”
Interview number two was no better:
Me: “Tell me about yourself.”
Her: “Well, just so you know up front, I don’t type.”
Me, coughing: “Excuse me?”
Her: “I have long nails.” Flashes bright red claws. “Typing chips them. So, I don’t type.”
Me, blink blink: “Have you considered…cutting your nails?”
Her, hostilely raising a super-waxed eyebrow: “Do you know how much these things cost?!”
Me, shaking head: “I see you have a four rating. Can you elaborate?”
Her: “My boss didn’t like it that I don’t type, so he gave me a bad rating. Can you believe that shit?”
Me: No words.
I called Mona as I gulped down a yogurt smoothie. “This is not looking good.”
“Have you met all three?”
“I have one more.” A solid rap on wood startled me. “Oh crap, she’s here. Pray for my soul!”
Disconnecting, I glanced at the clock. Prompt. I squared my shoulders, preparing for doom.
“Miss Wade?”
“Yes. Please come in.”
A middle-aged woman in a rather flattering suit met me at the table. “Hi, I’m Jayne Balbach. Jane with a Y.” She firmly shook my hand, her eyes never leaving mine. She was neither smiling nor frowning. In fact, her expression was unreadable. I was intrigued.
Like the first two, I’d only taken a moment to scan the first page of her file. Unlike the first two, her file was substantial. This could mean one of two things: She’d either done a world tour across the company and miserably failed, or I couldn’t afford her.
“So your boss is retiring. Harry seemed like a nice man.”
She smiled blandly. “He was.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it. “I’m sure you’re wondering why a one-rated, twenty-six-year INTech veteran is interested in working for an, excuse my bluntness, inexperienced district manager in a remote area of an unimpressive district.”
“Um, the thought had crossed my mind.”
“Other than simply needing a new position, I do have an ulterior motive in regards to this particular slot.
“Please go on.”
“I’m divorced, my kids are grown, and I’ve always wanted to live at the beach. This is my opportunity.”
“But you could work for anyone in the company—anywhere.”
“I could and I have. My specific interest in North Carolina is a bit nostalgic, I suppose. I was a military brat. My father was stationed at Cherry Point while I was in grade school. I have fond memories.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased to learn that absolutely nothing has changed.”
She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in a confidential manner. “This may sound odd, but for once, I’m thinking with my heart rather than my head.” I couldn’t help but smile. Really, truly smile. But then it faded.
“Jayne, as much as I’d like—love—to hire you, my budget is rather limited this year. I really can’t afford someone of your pay grade. That’s why I was rather, well, flexible with my requirements.”
She laughed good-naturedly. “I can help with that. I’ve been running executive budgets for over two decades. Believe me, I can be rather creative when it comes to stretching resources.”
“Wait! You’ll run my budget?”
“Of course. Budget, travel arrangements, entertainment needs.”
“Entertainment needs?” Does she mean hookers?
She raised a brow slightly and nodded. “You may not recognize some of the names on my resume, but I’ve worked for several executives in the sales division. Golf course reservations, dinners, theater tickets, limos…whatever out-of-town guests require.” Aka hookers.
“Oh…” I scanned the names quickly, hoping she hadn’t worked for Ryan Vittorio. Who knew what kind of “entertainment needs” that man required. Then I saw a truly horrifying name. “Holy crap! You worked for Kirsten Scythe?!” I was appalled and aghast and several other descriptors. I dabbed at my spittle. “What was that even like?”
She chuckled softly. “Challenging. On the best of days.” I stared at her with simple awe. Having endured too many of Kirsten’s rants about her useless and stupid underlings, I knew her secretaries bore the greatest brunt of her wrath. I suddenly felt compelled to throw my arms around Jayne and comfort her.
“I can’t imagine what you went through. I’m so very sorry.”
She laughed lightly. “I’ve worked for worse. Susan, I’m a professional. Over the years, I’ve learned to make the best of any situation.” I was stunned that there were worse people to work for at INTech. Of course, Ryan, my ex-lover, was a prime example.
After a moment, she said, “Well?”
What else could I say? “When are you available to start?”
We settled on the particulars, and after she left, I sat back in my chair and smiled. I was finally getting the chance to help someone with her own dream.
Thursday’s organizational meeting was everything I’d hoped it would be: boring. District movem
ent was minimal—only one DM lost to an overseas assignment. As INTech expanded in emerging markets, spaces abroad were becoming easier to get, and taking one for the company by transferring to Singapore was a quick and easy way to slingshot yourself into upper management. On my own, I might have considered the maneuver, but not with a future husband whose company—and home—meant so much to him.
♥
Deserving or not, fate had smiled warmly upon me in the last year, affording me a dream promotion, giving me back the one man in the universe who loved me entirely, and sending my sworn enemy to purgatory—its northern territories. Fate’s eternal mate, Karma, had taken over this afternoon, and I watched with awe and wonder as it doled out a beautiful portion of life’s a bitch from the metric ton Kirsten had furtively earned.
While reaching across the conference room’s faux wood table to snag a pen, I accidentally knocked over my coffee cup. As I dabbed at the spill with a flimsy napkin, I heard a loud feminine gasp. Embarrassed, I shot her a cold look, only to realize her response wasn’t aimed at my klutz maneuver, but rather something far more insufferable.
“Problem?” Frank Calvin asked, spearing her with an icy glare. Effortlessly handsome, the Ying to Bob’s senior vice president Yang was one of the more ruthless great whites you’d ever hope not to swim past. By publically—and privately—humiliating Frank when she’d played him for a promotion nearly a decade ago, Kirsten had put herself right in his line of sight. That stunt had cost Frank a marriage and a very large loss of face. His ultimate dream was realized last year when lightning struck like fire from the heavens, and Kirsten was transferred to a district under his domain. It was one of the most beautifully chilling maneuvers I’d ever witnessed. I could only imagine what her once glamorous lifestyle was like now.
Apparently unable to answer, Kirsten had suddenly lapsed into full-on apoplexy, her bulging eyes glued to my giant rock, glinting even under artificial lighting. As her mouth worked silently, I slowly pushed a stray hair to the side with my left hand, raised my eyebrow, and slapped on one very satisfied smirk.
“Kirsten,” Frank barked. “Is there a problem?”
She shut her gaping jaw then defiantly looked at him and shook her head no.
“Excellent.” His lips curled lovingly—lovingly, as in I’m looking lovingly at the piece of bloody steak I’m about to bite into—and then said, “Please continue.”
While she rambled through her unimpressive report, I stole a glance at Frank. He caught my eye and winked. We were co-conspirators: on the same side of a not so cold war.
3
I Said Goodbye
While Pete no longer “worked”—snort—at the Rusty Frog, his cousin’s dump of a bar, we met Mona and Jimbo there most Friday nights. In all honesty, other than hanging out at the local watering hole, there really wasn’t a whole lot to do in this fairly uninhabited place, especially during the off-season.
I stepped through its doors at the stroke of midnight. Only showing my face at the quarterlies wrap-up party, I’d hopped on an evening flight home and made the two-hour drive from Raleigh just in time to slow dance with my handsome fiancé. The sight of him caught my breath, as it always did after I’d been away. I smiled as he innocently danced with a woman who had become a friend.
Tossing my purse into Mona’s booth, I walked across the taped off dance floor and tapped her shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”
Ginger threw her head back and laughed. “I’m so glad you’re home. He’s a big ol’ pain in the ass when you’re gone.” I took the place of my occasional hairdresser, and she wandered back to her husband, Bobby, who was battling Buddy Williams in a card game.
As the elastic band which had stretched all the way to Philadelphia snapped back in place, Pete crushed me against his body and kissed me so deeply I nearly swooned. “I’ve missed you like the very air,” he whispered against my lips.
“It feels good to breathe again,” I said, closing my eyes and inhaling his intoxicating scent as I nestled into his shoulder. Holding him this way, our bodies pressed against one another as if a single unit, was the greatest kind of pleasure. We swayed in silence for the next two songs.
Eventually, he led me back to the table, and we snuggled into a space made for one.
“Hey, Mona, guess who’s presenting her own report at next Quarterlies?”
She shook her head, the tips of her bob brushing her jaw. “Unh uh.”
“Uh huh! I need to shop for a wedding gown and I’m not doing it alone. The bylaws of the friendship act of eighteen-eighty-one clearly state that matrons of honor must accompany brides-to-be in all unpleasant, yet necessary excursions. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the corporate riffraff. We’ll buy shoes, get our nails done…it’ll be fun. Plus, it’s an order.”
She shot me a sulking glare, but then her eyes lit with mischief. “Speakin’ of riffraff, who’d ya see?”
“The usual offenders, only this time I was wearing my weapon of mass destruction.” Mona gave me a confused look, so I held up my ring. “You can’t imagine what the sight of a diamond will do to some people.” Ryan’s expression had been nearly as cosmically perfect as Kirsten’s.
Pete wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my temple. “I look at it as an insurance policy. Men see it, men stay away. Simple as that.”
“Oh, and I think you’re going to like the new secretary. She’s rather amazing.”
♥
Jimbo had recently hired a new bartender. Hunter was his name—first name. In the South, your first name might have been your grandparents’ surname or that of some Confederate military figure, or even from your daddy’s favorite coonhound. In his case, having actually met his father, I feared it was the latter.
To an eager kid, who’d recently earned a communications degree from Craven Community College but had no idea what to do with his life, serving beer seemed as good a job as any. So, for the foreseeable future, Jimbo had more help than he needed.
“Hey, Miss Susan,” Hunter said, a huge smile painting his face as I stepped to the counter.
“Hi, Hunter. What’s going on in your world?”
“I am glad you asked. Don’t move.”
While waiting, I assessed his backside objectively. Wide shoulders, long muscular legs, fairly perfect ass like his cousins’, his mop of hair, the color of a ripe pecan, and that unstoppable carefree spirit owned by so many in the Walsh-Skarren line made him nearly irresistible to the female patrons. Pricilla’s younger brother lacked her self-possession, but the piercing blue eyes they shared, and the unstoppable beauty that graced their features left no doubt they were siblings. And, according to the latest restroom graffiti exit polls, he’d fully replaced Pete as the bar’s official eye candy, which was just fine with me.
Turning with a proud smile, he handed me an honest-to-goodness martini glass, filled with something pinkish.
“Where’d you steal the glass?”
“Turns out, Walmart sells ’em. I bought it for you, um…special.” His cheeks flushed a pale rose. I’d had a sneaking suspicion Hunter had a crush on me, and this confirmed it. “Tell me what it needs,” he said anxiously.
I took a sip and promptly choked. “Less vermouth. Way less.”
His eyebrows scrunched. “I was afraid of that. Let me try again.” Amused by his determination, I glanced over my shoulder. He reminded me of someone else—someone who’d been so driven to win me over, he’d used every trick in his professional handbook. A more arrogant, gregarious, and wickedly flirtatious someone. Pete’s laughter exploded from the booth, and I smiled, thinking of how much I’d wanted to kill him when we first met, of how I’d eventually realized I couldn’t live without him, and now of how that gorgeous, blond-headed nutcase was going to be my husband.
Hunter’s tall form was hunched over a book, a martini shaker held tightly in his hand. He nodded to himself and reached for the bottle of vodka again. After a moment of apparently holding his breath, he turned with a hopef
ul expression.
I sipped tentatively, and then, after letting him sweat for a moment, smiled broadly. “Not bad.”
You’d have thought he’d won the lottery because he whooped so loudly half the crowd turned to stare. “I’ve enrolled in bartendin’ school—online,” he announced. “I have to do ten hours of coursework and master thirty-two exotic drinks before I can earn my certificate. I was hopin’ you might be my guinea pig.”
“Why me?”
“Well,” he said, lowering his voice, “ya drink a lot.” I narrowed my eyes and he held up his hands. “No offense meant! What I mean is, you get around.” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “No, no. What I’m tryin’ to say is ya have good taste. You’ve been to fancy places and you’re, um…experienced.” At this point, I wasn’t sure if he was commenting on my palate or my sexuality. He smacked his forehead, and I walked away, chuckling.
“So, that’s a yes?” he yelled after me.
♥
Sunday morning, I awoke to roses and breakfast in bed. “What’s this?” I asked, kissing the most delicious lips in the world.
“I’m trying to erase the memory of last year. This is the day you came home and told me you were leavin’.”
My life had always been about my career. In fact, nothing else had even mattered until I met Pete. When my dream promotion took me out of state, I fully believed Pete and I could seamlessly continue our relationship. Pete, having failed under similar circumstances with a previous girlfriend, was not inclined to agree. Our breakup had been the most epically painful experience I’d ever known, and though professionally successful in Ohio, enduring life without him had redefined what was truly important to me.
“I’ll never leave you again.”
“You’re puttin’ that in your vows.”
Jayne was set to arrive the following Friday. I’d offered her my little cottage, since I really didn’t need it anymore, and she’d gladly accepted. Still sated from our morning workout, I was busy answering emails at the breakfast island when I realized my cottage furniture and larger belongings needed to be removed.
Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3) Page 3
