by Lori Wilde
No two ways about it, Michael Parker stumped her. How could he live the way he did, always chasing promotions and raises? How could he feel fulfilled by just a job, especially one that didn’t help people?
Her father used to say the best way to help other people was to help yourself. But Casey didn’t buy his theory. She couldn’t stand the thought of not working directly on a cause she believed in.
The seniors at the center made her feel wanted and welcomed, and she knew she made a difference. Each time she improved the program, she had a positive effect, and as far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered in life.
The cross-stitched adage hanging in her grandmother’s living room had read: When I Go, I’m Taking My Memories with Me. That was what Casey wanted— memories, a lot of them, of smiles and laughs, hugs and kisses.
After she put the last can of chicken noodle soup away, she tucked her canvas shopping bag in the cabinet and sat at the oak kitchen table.
How in the world could she come up with fifty thousand in just a few weeks? She’d have a better chance flying by flapping her arms. Still, she had to find a way. The seniors were depending on her.
Like a flash from a camera, an idea flared in her mind. Of course. A fundraiser. It was the only way, especially since she was down to just twenty-six days to raise the money. Sure, putting together an activity that big in such a short time would take something close to a miracle, but what choice did she have?
The center could invite the citizens of Honey, and the seniors could decide what sort of fundraiser it should be. Then she’d move heaven and earth to make sure it happened.
She smiled. Now this was something Michael could really help with. Working at a major corporation had to have taught him how to pull together a huge project. He could also invite all his business associates and all of the Barrett Software employees. Heck, he could probably stock the fundraiser with just the people he knew.
Suddenly, Casey felt very satisfied with herself. Her father had always maintained she didn’t have a businesswoman’s mind. Boy, was he ever wrong. She was about to prove she could multitask with the best of them.
“Nathan, I need to talk to you.” Michael moved farther into his boss’ office, carefully stepping over some errant golf balls.
It was a little past ten in the morning, a time that Nathan called the midmorning break. All employees were encouraged to de-stress for fifteen minutes, but personally, Michael called it a waste of time. He didn’t need to take a fifteen-minute break every couple of hours. His mind stayed sharp no matter how long he worked.
Nathan putted and then hooted when the ball went into an overturned plastic cup. “Man, I’m good. You need to take up golf, Michael. It clears the mind. Helps you sort things out.”
Michael frowned and refrained from pointing out to his boss that he wasn’t exactly playing at Pebble Beach. “No, thanks. My mind is clear enough.”
“Suit yourself. But if you want to succeed in business, you have to take care of yourself. You don’t want to burn out.”
Michael dropped into one of the leather chairs. “I work out, which keeps me healthy.”
Nathan raised one eyebrow and gave Michael a pointed look. “Healthy in body, but not in spirit.”
Michael was starting to have second thoughts about taking this job. It was an excellent company and looked great on his resume, but Nathan was way too focused on happiness for his liking. It was annoying and playing havoc with Michael’s life.
“I think my spirit’s in good shape, too.” Michael impatiently watched Nathan make two more putts, both landing directly in the cup.
“I’m amazing,” Nathan said, smiling. “Wait until I tell my brothers.”
Trying to show interest, Michael asked, “So they play golf?”
Nathan laughed. “No. It’s just that we compete at everything.” He placed the putter against his desk and returned to the large leather chair behind it. “What can I do for you?”
“Nathan, this volunteer work is impossible.” Michael leaned forward, anxious to impress the seriousness of this situation on his boss. “Your managers all put in two hours yesterday at the charities. We can’t afford to miss so much time from work.”
When he finished speaking, Michael leaned back. Tension ran through his blood like a toxin. He desperately wanted to change Nathan’s mind. Seldom had he believed in something so strongly as he did in this. Nathan was wrong. Pure and simple. Sure, in a perfect world, everyone would have time to volunteer for worthy causes. And he had to admit, what he’d seen yesterday had shown him the Honey Senior Citizen Center was a worthy cause.
But the senior executives of Barrett Software were the wrong ones to be helping out. They needed to be at their desks, doing their jobs, building a stronger company. Stronger companies made a stronger city, which helped everyone.
Just looking at Nathan, though, didn’t give Michael much hope. His face had a resigned look to it.
“Michael, I know this seems like a lot to ask, but in the long run, helping others always helps oneself.”
And a bird in the hand makes a mess on your palm.
“In this competitive market, Barrett Software needs to maximize its resources,” Michael argued. “We need all our employees working at their full potentials at all times.”
Nathan slowly shook his head. “Studies have shown companies with strong ties to their communities do better.”
The tension in Michael grew to epic proportions. How could Nathan, an incredibly intelligent man, not see he could ruin a great company? Michael ran through possible arguments in his mind, studying the other man closely. There had to be a way to make him see reason.
“Why don’t we just make some sizable donations to the charities? I think cash would help them more. For instance, the Honey Senior Citizen Center you assigned me to needs money for a new building. I can guarantee you the director would prefer you give her a big, fat check rather than send me down there every day. I’m in her way,” he added. “She doesn’t like it.”
A wide grin graced Nathan’s face and did nothing to settle Michael’s nerves. “Glad to hear you’re fitting in so well,” he said with a laugh. “When they gave me the list of local charities needing help, I knew the Honey Senior Citizen Center was the right place for you.”
A niggling suspicion ran up Michael’s spine. “And why was that, Nathan?”
Nathan scratched the side of his neck and avoided Michael’s gaze. “Oh, this and that.”
Michael silently counted to ten. Then to twenty. Then gave up. One look at the self-satisfied face of his boss told him he was wasting his time. And time was a short commodity in his life these days.
“Are you going to reconsider this?” Michael asked, already knowing the answer.
“I’ll make you a deal.” Nathan rose and picked up his putter. “I won’t always expect everyone to donate ten hours a week, but I want my executive team to do it for at least a couple of months. At the end of that time, we’ll talk.”
For the first time since the memo had reached his desk, Michael saw a glimmer of hope. He stood and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Great.”
Nathan toed a golf ball into place, studied it for a second, then tipped his head and looked at Michael. “If that place needs money, I expect you to help them raise it.”
“Why don’t we just—”
“Raise it, Michael. Don’t give it to them. People need your time more than they need your money.” Nathan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Keep that in mind.”
Michael studied the wooden shelf in his hand, then eyed the wall in front of him. How hard could it be to hang one tiny shelf? He could do this. Hanging a shelf wasn’t like making repairs. Not really. After all, driving a couple of nails into the wall wasn’t like performing brain surgery. He could do this. No sweat.
Just like he could pull off this volunteer gig for a few months. Sure, it would be difficult, but like they said at Barret Software—Find A Way.
Tha
t was his life philosophy. When faced with a negative situation he flat out couldn’t change, he found a way to turn it into a positive. The center was just such a situation, and he’d find a way to turn this negative to a positive.
Rummaging through the toolbox Casey had left him, he picked out a couple of nails. This would have been easier if Casey were here. But she was out picking up supplies and had left him a note asking him to work on the shelf. Still, he could do this, so he chose a spot and drove in the first nail. With only a tap, it flattened against the plasterboard.
“You need a molly.”
Michael turned to find Al Terford standing behind him.
“Excuse me?”
Al chuckled and moved forward. “That nail won’t hold squat if you don’t anchor it. You need a molly.”
“Who’s Molly?”
“It’s a piece of hardware, not a woman.” Al chuckled again and dug around in the toolbox. “There aren’t any in here. Tell you what. You pull that nail out of the wall while I go look in the supply cabinet and see if we have some mollies lying around.”
Michael sighed. Of course he needed a molly. There was a good chance he could use a lobotomy, too, if they had one in the supply cabinet. Michael turned the hammer around. Maybe this wasn’t as easy as he’d first thought. Well, he’d just pull the nail out of the wall, then ask Al to help him with the shelf. He had an M.B.A., for God’s sake. What did he know about hanging a shelf?
The bottom line was, he should be at the office, not here playing Randy the Repairman for some kindhearted beauty. He pushed down the stress brewing inside him and forced himself to turn his thoughts back to the positive. There had to be an upside to being at the center.
An image of Casey automatically flashed into his mind like an unwanted response to an inkblot test. He immediately dismissed the thought. Whatever Casey Richards was, she wasn’t a positive in this equation. She was a distraction, a highly attractive distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.
However, Nathan’s appreciation of his work for the center was a positive. If Michael made Nathan happy, then he would probably follow his recommendation on the merger.
Granted, Michael would have to work his butt off over the next couple of months to keep up with things at the office while still managing to make a significant contribution at the center. But he could do it. He didn’t believe in half efforts. He’d seen his old man give up too many times to ever let that type of failure touch him.
With effort, he tried to push aside the errant, long-buried image of his father. Michael never thought about Burt Parker. Never. But that was what Casey and this place did to him. They made him think all sorts of crazy thoughts. Thoughts about his job. About his life.
About his father. It didn’t take a psychologist to figure it out. Casey was disappointed in him; something that hadn’t happened to him in years. Hadn’t happened since the last time he’d spoken to his father.
If only Burt Parker could see him now. Here he was, an executive at Barrett Software, trying to hang a dumb shelf. His father had told him time and again to blow off college and take up a trade. That way, he could just work when the spirit struck him. But unlike his old man, Michael didn’t mind hard work.
And he hadn’t failed at anything since he’d left his family’s ranch when he’d turned eighteen. No way was he about to start now. One way or the other, he would make this volunteer stint work. He wasn’t going down in flames, no matter how hot it might feel at the moment.
“Hold on, Casey Richards,” he muttered. “I’m going to make some real changes around this place.”
Using the claw part of the hammer, he tried to get the nail out of the wall. It took a couple of attempts, but eventually, he grabbed the nail and pulled. Hard.
A hole the size of his head appeared.
Casey looked at the hole in the wall, then glanced at Michael. He gave her what could only be called a sheepish grin.
“Sorry about that, but I’m not really good at repairs.”
“So I see,” she said, not sure whether to laugh or cry.
“A dab of wood dough will fix that,” Al offered.
“Are you kidding? My dog could fit through that hole.”
Casey recognized the last speaker as Dottie. She bit back her own amazement at the mess Michael had made and turned to face the group.
“It’s not so bad,” she made herself say. “We’ll get it fixed.”
Before a huge discussion could break out, Casey headed to her office. She should have realized Michael wasn’t the repair type. But hey? How hard was it to hang one simple shelf? Sheesh.
“I really do feel bad about the hole,” Michael said. He’d followed her to her office. Now he came inside and shut the door. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”
Casey shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I can probably fix it; I’m good at fixing things.”
He dropped into the chair facing her desk. “Well, apparently, I have a real affinity for breaking things.”
“So I’m noticing.” She sat in her own chair and studied him. She still couldn’t get used to how handsome Michael was. He was far too handsome for her own good. And the little bit of embarrassment still clinging to him only made him look cuter. Which was dangerous. Very dangerous.
Shifting her thoughts away from that Pandora’s box, she forced herself to focus on the problem at hand. “I thought things over last night, and I’ve decided we’re going about this all wrong.”
“Going about what?” he asked absently, flicking plaster off his designer slacks.
“The donations. We need a lot of money quickly. To do that, we need to schedule some sort of major fundraiser.”
Michael looked at her and frowned. “That sounds like a huge effort. What about the money I raised for you yesterday?”
“It’s great. Don’t get me wrong. But unless you go on a swearing streak and end up giving me several thousand, we won’t have enough.” She waited, hoping he’d rise to the idea. Instead, he only frowned more.
“Do you have any experience with fundraisers?” he asked.
She refused to let him dampen her enthusiasm. “No. But I’m a quick learner, and I’m sure the seniors have a lot of ideas.” She smiled. “Plus, rumor has it you’re good at managing things.”
He finally returned her smile. “Some people don’t consider that a positive.”
Michael was teasing her, and she had to admit, he was appealing like this, relaxed and joking. “On further consideration, some people have decided your talent can be very helpful.”
“So, what’s in it for you if you raise this money?” he asked. “Will you get promoted?”
Scratch that appealing thought. The shark had sprung a giant dorsal fin. “It’s not like that. Forget I brought the idea up. I should have known you wouldn’t understand.”
“Ah, hell, Casey—”
She glared at him. “One dollar.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Maybe I’ll learn. Eventually.”
She didn’t share his humor. “I’m starting to have my doubts.”
“Look, Casey, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just think a fundraiser sounds like a lot of extra work for you, especially if you aren’t going to get anything out of it.”
She leaned forward, placing her arms on the battered desk. “Not everything in the world revolves around the bottom line.”
“Sure it does. Everyone wants something. It’s human nature.”
Disappointment washed through her at his statement. But what had she expected? Once a shark, always a shark.
Slowly, she studied him, taking her time. Michael never looked away. She knew she’d surprised him again. No doubt very few people could maintain eye contact with Michael Parker for long. But Casey never flinched. And after half a minute, she felt something new enter the equation. Something potent.
Something sexual.
The sensation settled around them, dancing across the room, making her skin tingle. Stunned, she blinked
and broke eye contact, but the feeling didn’t dissipate as expected. Instead, it became more noticeable. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with awareness. Loaded with anticipation.
She glanced back at Michael. It was obvious he felt it, too. He sat board-straight in his chair, a half-chagrined, half-amazed look on his face.
They both spoke at the same time.
“Um, I guess—”
“Casey, why don’t—”
They stopped talking and stared at each other. Sure, from time to time she’d meet a man who interested her. In those cases, if he was nice, she’d go out with him. But if he was in any way the wrong type, she’d just dismiss the feeling; and that was that. No two ways about it, Michael was the wrong type with a capital W.
Unfortunately, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy to ignore Michael. He was too intense. Too compelling.
Too sexy.
Shoot. As if her life wasn’t already complicated enough, now why’d this have to happen?
5
Michael sat staring at Casey, wondering what in the world had gone on here. One minute he’d been arguing with her, then the next thing he’d known, everything had changed. Of all the times to act like a teenager. He needed to get a grip on himself before he lost it completely.
After a few tense moments, he said, “You were telling me about the fundraiser.”
Casey fiddled with a red pencil on her desk. “Right. The fundraiser. I haven’t come up with any ideas yet, but I’m sure the seniors can think of something.”
“You’re going to ask the people here what they think you should do? That’ll take a lot of time.” The soft, hazy look on her face evaporated like mist under a hot sun. Drat. He’d ticked her off again.
“The fundraiser is for their new facility. Of course, I’m asking them what they’d like to do.” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m still not sure this is the right place for you. You seem so reluctant to get involved with the people. Yesterday, you hardly stepped out of the office at all.”
