by Lori Wilde
At the word sizable, a frown formed on Michael’s face. “You can’t be serious. Chances are, in those ten minutes, you wouldn’t even have gotten anyone to agree.”
He had a point, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Truthfully, she rarely had luck getting help from local companies.
She smiled benignly. No sense telling Mr. Hotshot that.
“Actually, I’ve made quite a few good contacts in the community over the past couple of months,” she said. “I’m sure I can get lots of donations. Now, about using the phone—”
“Ah, hell.”
Casey shook her finger. “Mr. Parker, I’ve warned you about the language. The tally’s up to three dollars.”
For a split second, the manager mask on his face lifted, and she could see how thoroughly exasperated he was with her. Then the mask dropped back into place.
“Fine. You win. This phone call is dam—um, important, so I’ll make a donation. How much?”
How much? Shoot, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. She was winging this and hadn’t really expected him to agree. She’d thought he’d just storm out.
So, how much? She studied his watch. Thin. Gold. Expensive. “One hundred dollars.”
He visibly blanched. “What? Are you crazy? I’m not giving you a damn cent.”
That was it. Casey walked around her desk until she stood directly in front of Michael Parker. Then she straightened her spine to take advantage of what height she did have. Finally, she made eye contact with him.
“That makes it four dollars. And if you curse in this building one more time, I’m going to reject you as a volunteer. It’s my understanding that your boss, Nathan Barrett, specifically wanted you to work at the Honey Senior Citizen Center. I imagine he’ll be unhappy if you get fired your first day on the job.”
As she expected, he didn’t quail at her words. “I’m not afraid of Nathan, so there’s no point threatening me. I’m also a volunteer here, so you need me more than I need you.”
“Not true. I don’t need someone who’s more interested in using my phone than in helping the seniors. We’ve been just hunky-dory without you until now, and we’ll do just peachy-keen without you in the future. So, Mr. Parker, what will it be? My phone for a hundred, or shall I call Nathan and tell him things didn’t work out?”
As he stood watching her, she noticed a slight shifting in his features. Some muscles tightened; others loosened. On another man, she’d say his expression was one of admiration. But as far as she could tell, Michael Parker didn’t admire her. He viewed her as a small obstacle in his way.
But she knew, long before he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew his leather checkbook, she’d won this battle. Inside, her stomach did a quick flip-flop. She’d actually won.
“One hundred in exchange for using the phone whenever I want during the next two hours,” he said, bending down to write the check.
Casey thought for a moment. A reasonable woman would take the check and run. But the little devil inside her wouldn’t leave things alone. She opened her mouth before she could consider the wisdom of pushing a brick wall.
“One hundred and you can use the phone for no more than thirty minutes while you’re here today.”
He paused, his hand frozen holding the pen above the pale-green check. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t say a thing. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand and wordlessly wrote the check.
Casey felt like she’d won the lottery. When he finished writing, he tore the check out of the book and handed it to her.
“You can make it out to whomever you want. The center. A handyman.” He tipped his head and gave her a pointed look. “Or maybe you’d just as soon make it out to yourself.”
Casey smiled. “Why, Mr. Parker, we barely know each other, and you’ve already formed such a sweet opinion of me. I’m thoroughly delighted with all of your character traits, too.”
His lips lifted at the corners just a tad. “How does anyone survive around you without cursing?”
“They use their imaginations.” She glanced at the check and then held out her hand. “You still owe me four dollars.”
As he reached for his wallet, he muttered, “Bass fishing.”
Casey chuckled and snatched the four dollars from his hand. “See. I knew you’d find a way to stop cursing.” She tucked the check and the dollars in an envelope. “Now, thanks to you, I’ve made a great start on the renovations fund.”
Michael Parker leaned against her desk, but when it wobbled, he straightened. “I’m only praying you’re Casey Richards, the director here.”
She extended her hand. “Yes. I can’t tell you what a pleasure it’s been to meet you, Mr. Parker.”
He took her hand and shook it firmly. The handshake was swift and professional, but still, a tingle ran up her arm at the contact. Normally, that reaction told her she was attracted to a man. But in Michael Parker’s case, she’d assume the tingle was static electricity. She’d never been attracted to a corporate shark in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now.
Casey released Michael’s hand and stepped back a half step. “I hope you enjoy working here, Mr. Parker.”
He picked up the phone. “Call me Michael. I like to be on a first-name basis with people who take me for that much money.”
2
Michael watched Casey walk out of the office and felt like kicking himself. He’d broken his number one rule—never underestimate an opponent. In fact, at first he hadn’t even realized Casey Richards was an opponent. And who could blame him?
When she’d crawled out from under the desk, she’d looked like a pushover. An incredibly sexy pushover, with wavy auburn hair that hung to the middle of her back and large green eyes in a pretty oval face.
Rounding out the tempting package was a gently curved shape in worn jeans. That shape made his mind wander off in dangerous directions.
Yeah, he’d underestimated Casey, all right. He’d figured the director would be some nice quiet woman he could convince to let him do his work while he was here.
Not all the time, of course. He’d live up to his side of the deal and help out. But come on, he couldn’t spend ten hours a week ignoring the office. He was tracking too many projects to waste a good part of each week playing bingo.
He glanced at his watch, then punched in the phone number of his assistant, Glenda Myers. Thank God she was back at the office keeping things running. He’d give this harebrained scheme one week at the most. Then Nathan would see the huge hit to productivity the company was taking, and he’d have to rescind this order.
Michael knew all he had to do was survive a week or two. He’d been through worse—like the layoffs at his past employer. This charity work would be a piece of cake.
While he waited for Glenda to answer, he glanced out the open office door and watched Casey working in the main room. She hadn’t been what he’d expected, granted, but he had to admit he admired her. Not many people stood up to him anymore.
He knew how to stare them down, but his best techniques hadn’t worked with her. Which surprised him. The woman spent her days working with retirees. He wouldn’t expect her to know the first thing about negotiating.
But she had. She’d negotiated him out of a hundred bucks. Although, to be honest, he’d probably have given her the money anyway, just to smooth things out over the next few days. In his experience, charity types loved you to pieces once you gave them a nice fat donation.
He continued with his phone call for quite some time before an odd sensation made him look out into the main room again. Casey caught his gaze. He expected her to smile, but she didn’t. Instead, she frowned at him, tapped the chunky watch on her wrist, and then held up five fingers.
He glanced at his own watch, a present last year from his previous employer for a killer deal he’d worked. With a sigh, he realized the woman was right—he only had five minutes left.
A hundred dollars sure didn’t buy what it used to.
“I told you he was a handsome devil.”
Casey spun around to find Elmira and her best friend, Dottie, directly behind her. The women stood watching Michael Parker through her open office door. Casey followed their gazes.
These two ladies might be seniors, but there was nothing wrong with their eyesight or their judgment. Michael Parker certainly qualified as a handsome devil, but he personified everything Casey disliked in a man.
“He’s okay,” she admitted, knowing Elmira and Dottie wouldn’t swallow a lie. “But if he thinks he’s going to spend all of his time on the phone, he’s wrong.”
The two women trailed after her as she moved the chairs to make room for the birthday celebration due to start in a few minutes. “My Bernie was that good-looking,” Dottie said.
Elmira rolled her eyes. “Dottie, Bernie was barely over five feet tall. He didn’t look a thing like that man does.”
Rather than being offended, Dottie laughed. “Okay, so Bernie wasn’t tall. But he was still great-looking. And he knew a thing or two about romance.”
Elmira nudged Casey. “Do you think that handsome devil over there knows a thing or two about romance?”
Despite herself, Casey looked at Michael and pondered the question. He had the looks to make a woman’s heart race. And the self-confidence. The question was whether he ever slowed down long enough to make the experience memorable. Would he linger over each caress? Hover over each kiss?
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, which currently was in a tight, straight line. He wasn’t happy about something. Casey watched his lips as he spoke. What would it feel like to have a man like that whisper seductive words in her ear?
“I think we’ve sent her into a tailspin,” Elmira observed.
Casey blinked and looked at the two women, embarrassed by her daydreams. “I need to get back to work.”
Dottie smiled. “Sure you do, dear. Don’t let us get in your way.”
Casey hurriedly pushed some of the tables together and replaced the chairs. She ignored the quiet conversation Dottie and Elmira held in the corner of the room and instead headed to the kitchen to put candles on the birthday cake.
She didn’t really need to hear them to know they were still discussing Michael Parker. Dottie and Elmira had a long history of interfering in her love life. Both ladies thought it was beyond time Casey settled down.
So far, they’d offered up all their grandsons and one great-nephew, but to no avail. Casey had a specific type of man in mind, a home-loving man who adored children. The successful grandsons traveled all the time.
And the great-nephew disliked children.
But those failures hadn’t slowed down Elmira and Dottie. If anything, the more men Casey rejected, the more the two women seemed determined to find a match.
They felt by the advanced age of twenty-eight, if Casey didn’t marry soon, she’d die alone. And as Elmira liked to point out, the older Casey got, the smaller the fishing pond became.
Casey glanced back at her office. Speaking of fish, or actually sharks, there was a corporate shark who needed to be told a thing or two. No sense putting it off any longer. She had to get back in her office and settle the ground rules.
Mr. Michael Parker needed to know straight out who was the boss here. He might be a bigwig at his office, but at the Honey Senior Citizen Center, he was just one more volunteer to help during the birthday party.
Of all the times not to be able to cuss. Michael ran an agitated hand through his hair while Glenda related the latest disaster. He felt like a pressure cooker about to explode. If he didn’t vent some of his frustration soon, things were not going to be pretty.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Casey Richards appear in the doorway. He wasn’t halfway through his conversation with Glenda, but he knew better than to push his luck. He’d just have to stay at the office really late tonight to catch up on work.
“Look, Glenda, I’ve got to go. The warden is here.” He glanced over his shoulder at Casey. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t frowning, either. She met his amused gaze straight on, and then walked into her office and sat behind her desk.
With a couple of final words, he hung up the phone and took the chair across from Casey. The tiny desk put hardly any space between them, and it gave her no psychological advantage at all.
“You need a bigger desk,” he observed, putting his day planner back in his briefcase. “Hel—” He froze, ignored her raised eyebrows, and continued, “Heck, you need a bigger office. This whole building, in fact, is way too small for the activities you have planned here.”
She leaned forward. “Mr. Parker—”
“I already told you, it’s Michael.”
“Okay, Michael. I explained I’m in the process of getting a new building for the center. But the size of my office and desk is the least of my concerns. What does concern me is what you intend on doing while you’re volunteering here.”
Straight to the point. He liked directness in a business associate, and he appreciated it in Casey. He briefly studied her, noting again how attractive she was. Of course, Casey’s appearance shouldn’t concern him.
She wasn’t his type. He liked women who were equally intent on their careers. Women who knew how to handle themselves at a business dinner. Certainly not red-haired social-worker types with big green eyes.
“What did you think volunteering at the center would mean?”
He shrugged. “Helping do whatever it is you do, I guess.” He shifted forward in his chair. “I suppose you know the purpose of my being here is to encourage other Barrett Software employees to get involved with the community.”
“Will these employees be able to volunteer during office hours like you are?”
He was pretty sure there was censure behind her words, although nothing in her tone backed up his suspicions. “Of course. Nathan made it clear they would be given time to help out. In my case, it doesn’t really matter. If I’m not asleep, I’m working. Basically, all of the hours in my day are office hours.”
She watched him intently. Something about the way she studied him told him she didn’t like him much. Which was stupid, considering he’d just given the woman a hundred dollars for her new building. But he couldn’t shake the feeling she viewed him as a distasteful pile she’d stepped in.
“Look, I certainly can use volunteers, but only if they’re sincerely interested in helping. If you’re just here to make your boss happy, then—”
“I plan on helping,” he interjected. At her dubious expression, he added, “Okay, I’ll admit I’d rather not spend a good part of each week here. Still, I’ll do my best to help.”
“Good,” was all she said in a tight little voice that let him know loud and clear that she was still ticked off. Casey should never play poker—he could read her every emotion on her expressive face.
Leaning back in his chair, he considered her. People like Casey Richards baffled him. Why work so hard for something that personally got you nowhere? It didn’t make sense.
“So, what can I do to help out while I’m here?” he asked.
“I don’t know. What skills do you have?”
The way she asked, in short, clipped syllables, made him think she felt he had no skills. Or at least none that would be of use to her.
“I’m great at managing things.”
She arched one eyebrow. “Things?”
“People.”
She nodded. “So I gathered.” She placed her arms on the wobbly desk in front of her. He looked at her hands. No rings. Short nails. A practical woman.
“This afternoon, please help with the birthday party. We have one for each senior every year. You’ll find the decorations on the top shelf of the cabinet in the kitchen.”
The idea of helping seniors with a party didn’t appeal to him. Truth was, he didn’t know what to say to the people here. He’d never known his grandparents, his mother had left when he’d been two, and his father had died years ago.
Outside
of work, Michael didn’t know anyone over the age of fifty. What did you talk about to people who no longer worked?
This idea didn’t appeal to him at all. “And after the party?”
“Then you can call some of your executive friends and manage them in the direction of their checkbooks. We need some serious donations.”
With that, she left her office.
Michael watched her go. Great. Just great. Not only did he get to waste a large part of his week helping out around here, but now he got to hassle all of his associates.
No doubt about it—he had to get out of this place soon.
3
Michael drew in a deep breath, bit back yet another curse, and blew up the twenty-third big, bright balloon in a pack of twenty-five. Two more after this. Only two more balloons to go, and he’d be done.
He shot a quick glance across the room at Casey, who was talking to some of the seniors. Of course, she’d put him in charge of the party decorations. Especially balloons. She obviously thought he had hot air to spare.
“Your face is almost as red as that balloon.”
Michael glanced at the older man who had come to stand next to him. “Yeah, I’m afraid I’m going to collapse a lung,” Michael said.
The man chuckled. “I’m the birthday boy, Al Terford.” Idly, he pushed some of the balloons across the table. A few tumbled with drunken abandon onto the floor. “Balloons. Now there’s an odd touch. What are you going to do with these when you’re done?”
Michael froze, some little internal gizmo dinging crazily inside his head. He turned and nailed Al with a direct gaze. “Don’t you usually have balloons at these parties?”
Al chuckled again. “Well, no. We’re kind of old for balloons. But I appreciate the gesture.”
Michael looked at the balloon in his hands, replaying his conversation with Casey through his mind. She’d told him to put out the things for the party, indicated the cabinet where the supplies were stored, and explained he’d find everything he needed inside. And he had. On the top shelf, he’d found cups, plates, and napkins.
