by Jade White
Cynthia closed her eyes, taking a few slow, deep breaths, and told herself that freaking out wasn’t going to solve anything. You can do this. This isn’t even as terrible as the time your entire group in Business Systems bailed at the last minute on your presentation. The guy’s probably not even going to pay attention to more than half of what you tell him, anyway. He’s just coming to look like a good owner, shake a few hands, and learn a bunch of names that he’s going to forget before he even gets on his private jet tonight.
Even if she suspected that the new owner wouldn’t be in the office for more than perhaps an hour—and certainly wouldn’t peruse any reports in detail—Cynthia dove into the task of compiling the information she would want to see herself, if she was inspecting a company. She farmed out half of her normal work to the other members of her team, telling them firmly,
“Either we all hang together, or we all hang separately.” She commandeered Carly’s office and convinced a member of the IT team to give her access to the boss’s files, with clearance from the business development VP.
“I am not going to let a stupid little hiccup like this ruin my chances of a raise,” Cynthia told herself as she copied facts and figures into the template she had helped Carly develop months before. She arranged everything neatly, reading it over and over again to make sure that there were no typos, and nothing that could be held up as a bad piece of information.
Since she had started taking the bus, Cynthia had brought her makeup with her, instead of doing it at home; she had to wake up an hour earlier to be able to catch the bus in time to get to work—she didn’t have the energy or enthusiasm that early to make herself look her best. That change in her habits worked to her benefit, for once. Twenty minutes before the meeting with the new owner, Cynthia ducked into the women’s room and cleaned up her makeup. She refreshed her lipstick, powdered her face lightly, and cleaned up the liner rimming her big, green eyes. Smoothing her dark hair in its tight bun, Cynthia decided that she looked just good enough; not sultry or sexy in a way that would give the impression that she was trying to come onto the new owner, but sharp and professional while still being feminine.
Cynthia collected her reports from the printer and walked across the office to the conference room. “You can do this,” she murmured to herself as she approached the open doors to the room. Cynthia could see several people already seated but they were chatting and talking in a way that told her she wasn’t late or missing anything. With any luck, the new owner hadn’t even arrived yet. Cynthia stepped through the door with a slight smile on her face, holding her reports more tightly than she wanted to.
Everyone she saw in the room was a familiar face, although most of them Cynthia only knew in passing. She exhaled in relief; the new owner hadn’t made his appearance yet. “So what’s the news on this guy coming in?” Cynthia took a seat at the middle of the long, broad table, amused at the speculative mood that surrounded her, in spite of the tension that continued to gnaw at her stomach.
“He inherited the empire from his dad,” someone said. “Probably some trust fund kid, never did anything big and now has the whole enchilada.”
“We’re going to treat him with respect,” the VP of business development said firmly. “If we’re lucky he’ll just want to see that we’re solvent, we’re growing, and he’ll never bother us as long as we don’t fuck up.”
“His father wasn’t a bad guy,” the company president said. “He dropped by a couple of times a year, checked on everything, and stayed out of our hair otherwise. I’m hoping Nicholas will be like that; I’ve met him once or twice.”
Further down the table, someone in HR was complaining about how the need to gather all the information and turn it into a report for the new owner had thrown the entire day’s schedule into disarray; while Cynthia could sympathize, she didn’t think it was entirely wise to complain about it at a table with all of the department heads present.
“How are you doing, Cynthia? Shame Carly’s out of the office on a day like this.” Cynthia shrugged.
“I’m happy to jump in,” she said with a polite smile. “Carly would be here if she could; I’m just hoping to do her proud.”
Before anyone could ask her anything else, there was a quick bustle at the door, and everyone in the room stood. Cynthia’s gaze moved from the receptionist to the object of her curiosity: the company’s new owner was a tall, broad-shouldered man, and Cynthia’s first impression of him was that he was drop-dead gorgeous. Peculiar green-hazel eyes stared out from under slightly bushy brown brows, framed by thick dark lashes. The man was dressed in a tailored suit, with a honey-colored tie that made his strange eyes glow.
“Nicholas! Good to see you again—though of course I wish it could be under better circumstances.” The president leaped into action, taking the new owner from the receptionist’s custody.
Cynthia didn’t even see the woman leave, as Nicholas came into the room confidently, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Please don’t be an asshole. Nobody who looks that good should be an asshole. Perversely, as Cynthia shook herself out of her reverie, realizing that the new owner was making his way around the room and shaking hands with each of the people at the table, she wished that he would turn out to be an asshole; it would make it easier on her to not resent the fact that he would never, in a million years, notice someone like her.
“Unfortunately, our Account Manager, Carly Shepherd isn’t in today but in her place with have Cynthia Howley, one of her most promising assistants.”
Cynthia kept her polite smile plastered on her face and extended her hand, willing it not to be sweaty. She looked up into Nicholas’ eyes and felt a shock jolt through her and by the way the man’s eyes widened just a fraction, she thought he must have sensed something. His hand closed around hers, warm and dry, and Cynthia was almost surprised at the fact that he was able to deliver a firm handshake without nearly crushing her hand at the same time.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cynthia. I appreciate you jumping in to help out, I know I came in on short notice.”
“I just wish you could have gotten the information you need straight from the horse’s mouth,” Cynthia said, feeling her cheeks warm up with a blush. “But I think I did a good job, even for an assistant.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Nicholas said, smiling faintly. He moved on a moment later, and Cynthia couldn’t help but be thankful. She had no idea what else to say to the man.
Cynthia settled in her seat, only paying enough attention to each of the department heads’ reports to keep track of where in the presentation they were. In the back of her mind, she was thinking about all the work she had had to defer that afternoon in order to prepare for this meeting. She realized that a man like Nicholas Trocaire couldn’t exactly be expected to time his arrivals at the convenience of his employees. He had—according to reports—more than a dozen businesses under his control, and with his father’s recent passing, she knew that the company should be grateful that he had made time to visit with them at all.
When it came time for Cynthia to present her department’s report, she stood, handing out copies of the presentation she had made. “I can go into further detail on specifics,” she said, smiling to cover the spurt of nervousness that went through her, “but for the purposes of a quick introductory meeting, I hope this will suffice.”
She launched into the report, going over the facts and figures that she had forced herself to memorize in the short time that she’d had to prepare for Nicholas’ arrival. The entire time, Cynthia could feel the man’s eyes on her. Part of her wished that she hadn’t bothered to be quite so particular in making sure she looked her best, while another part of her felt a little bit of triumph at the intent gaze.
She wondered if Trocaire had paid attention at all to the actual report she had made; but as she finished her remarks, he was nodding. “I see here,” he said, pointing to something on the sheet in front of him, “you’re projecting a twelve percent increas
e in budgets from one of your clients. What reason do you have to expect that?” Cynthia’s heart fluttered—for just a millisecond, her mind went blank, just as it had whenever she was called on in school.
“We’ve been working with that particular client for over a year,” Cynthia said, taking a surreptitious breath to steady her nerves. “We’ve already made overtures to them about increasing their budget with us; in fact, there’s still a possibility that they’ll increase over twelve percent—but the conservative figure quoted is in character with the current talks.”
Nicholas nodded again, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. To Cynthia’s relief, he had no further questions for her. She took her seat once more and as the next department head went up to speak, Cynthia let the relief flood through her. She had managed to get through the meeting without embarrassing herself, or making her department look bad. Surely they have to give me a raise now, she thought. In a few weeks, when my review comes up, this has to be something that stands out.
By the time the meeting was over, Cynthia was exhausted. She walked back to her desk from the conference room with her mind full of the long bus ride to come, and just how good it would feel to kick off her shoes when she finally—finally—walked into her apartment at the end of it. The issue of her car weighed on her heavily but for the moment, the fact that she had done a good job, and had managed to pull off what had seemed impossible, was enough to make even the daunting bus ride less annoying. It would at least give her some time to really think about the projects that had to be tackled the next day. Cynthia had very little faith that the entire workload she had shuffled off to her fellow assistant account managers was done, in spite of her coworkers’ insistence that they would handle it all.
She decided she would write Carly an email detailing what she’d done, wait long enough for the new owner of the company to come through on his tour of the office, and then sneak out maybe fifteen minutes early to give herself a chance to grab something to drink at the gas station on her way to the bus stop. Cynthia sat down at her desk and unlocked her computer, composing the email to her boss mentally for a moment before she opened up the program to write it all down.
“Miss Howley,”
Cynthia started. She had been so wrapped up in detailing the meeting that she hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching her desk. Turning quickly, she saw that the intruder was none other than Nicholas Trocaire himself.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, smiling apologetically.
“It’s okay,” Cynthia said, answering his smile weakly. “I just sort of got into a groove on this email.”
“I was wondering if I could pick your brain a bit,” Nicholas said.
Cynthia saw his nostrils flare slightly—but before she could question the reaction even mentally, Nicholas’ expression went completely back to normal.
“I can certainly give you more information on the department,” Cynthia replied, her heart beating a little faster. He has to know the effect he has on people, she thought with only a touch of resentment. He knows he’s gorgeous—and now he’s powerful and obscenely wealthy on top of it. He probably just loves to mess with people’s heads. She knew it was a defensive reaction, that she was only thinking that way because she was attracted to the man and knew that she could never in a million years hope to interest someone like him. But she couldn’t quite make herself refute it.
“Would you be willing to have a drink with me? I know the day is nearly done—and I’d hate to make you work overtime—but there are some business details I’d like to discuss with you, since you seem so knowledgeable.”
Cynthia resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. If he tries to convince me to have sex with him to get myself ahead, I will… well; I definitely won’t have sex with him—not for that. Could I report him to HR? It’s not like they could fire him. But I could probably go to the press with it, if it came down to that.
“If it’s a business discussion, wouldn’t it be better here?” Cynthia gestured to the office around them. “I have all of the information on the computer. I am not quite such an expert that I can just call up the details to mind on command.” She smiled in what she hoped was at least a slightly charming way.
“It’s been a long day—as I’m sure you can appreciate,” Nicholas said, his smile deepening. “I promise you, I’m not going to act like some sleaze, trying to get into your pants. I just want to discuss some business details with you.”
Cynthia blushed at his accurate guess as to the source of her hesitation. “Well,” she said, glancing around; no one in the office around her seemed to be paying much attention to what was going on between her and the new owner. “The only problem is that I am sort of… between cars at the moment.” Cynthia’s blush deepened in humiliation. “My car sort of… imploded on me a few days ago.”
“I have a car and a driver,” Nicholas said, inclining his head towards her slightly. “And we can go wherever you like. In fact, I would be happy to discuss things with you over dinner, and make sure that my driver gets you home safely—save you some trouble.” Cynthia wanted a reason to demur, but she couldn’t think of anything.
“If you promise that this isn’t some setup to try and convince me to sleep with you to advance my career,” she said, unable to help the little mischievous smile that twitched at her lips, “then I would be happy to discuss business over dinner with you.”
“Thank you,” Nicholas said, giving her the warmest, most brilliant smile that Cynthia had ever seen in her life. “If you’ll meet me downstairs in the lobby in—let’s say twenty minutes?” Cynthia nodded her agreement. “We can go to any restaurant you like. And please,” Nicholas leaned in a little closer, pitching his voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper, “don’t choose the cheapest place you can think of. Too many associates I’ve gone to dinner with have done that. All of the big chains are ruined to me now. Think of a nice, quiet place where we can talk over a fine meal.” Nicholas gave her another warm smile and turned on his heel, proceeding on his tour through the office.
Cynthia sat down heavily in her chair, completely confused. She wanted to hope that Nicholas had nothing more in mind than a simple business dinner; but part of her—the part that had warmed up under those green-hazel eyes, full of such intense interest—hoped that he would make at least a passing effort at coming onto her. As long as he didn’t try and position his seduction as a transaction, Cynthia decided in the back of her mind that she would at least consider it fairly.
She turned back to her computer and decided that she had just enough time to finish her email and do a little research on the different restaurants on the area before she needed to meet with Nicholas. She was determined to take him at his word; she would not be suggesting that they go to somewhere like TGI Friday’s, or even a Morton’s Steak House. Cynthia didn’t know if Nicholas had come in from out of town, or if he was local; but she would provide an option that would impress the wealthy man, and hopefully get some of her own dignity back after the embarrassment she had felt at suspecting the reasons for his charm. He may not be a terrible guy after all, Cynthia told herself, scrolling through a list of the highest-rated area restaurants. She couldn’t deny that the prospect of a dinner—even if the discussion was purely professional—with a man like Nicholas Trocaire was intriguing. It would at least make for an excellent update on her report to Carly.
*
It took every ounce of self-control that Nick had not to rub himself against Cynthia as she settled into the seat next to him in the back of his chauffeured car. He forced himself to breathe slowly, as quietly as possible, until the instinctive reaction to her pheromones began to abate. Fuck! She smells like honey and cloves and vanilla… like something I could slurp down and devour in a single bite. He had had no idea—no plan—to approach anyone at the little company when he’d arrived for his inspection. The idea of finding a surrogate to bear his child had been festering in his mind for a few days, but Nick’s thoughts had focuse
d on the possibility of finding someone who was another shifter like him.
When he’d come into the conference room, Nick’s keen nose had picked up on that scent—cut through with a brittle, slightly acrid gunpowder tang of anxiety. The only shifter in the room was the president of the company, a man that Nick had met several times in the course of doing business under his father’s guidance. As he’d made his way around the table, shaking hands with each person, Nick had breathed in as surreptitiously as possible—right up until he’d come to Cynthia. The scent of her honey and spices had briefly rocked him; up close it had been almost too alluring, distractingly delicious.
Just to look at, Nick thought, Cynthia was nice enough. She was maybe a foot shorter than he, with full, heavy breasts and a neat waist. Her dark hair was tightly bound into a bun, and her makeup somehow both sharpened her eyes and softened the rest of her features, making her look feminine but knowing all at the same time. She was definitely a woman that Nick would have noticed, even without the mind-fogging scent of her pheromones; not an object of perfection—certainly she would never be a supermodel—but earthy and sweet looking, the perfect match to her scent.
“So,” he said, shaking off his fugue as he realized the silence had dragged out for more than a couple of minutes. “Where are we going?”
“I wasn’t sure if you lived in town or not,” Cynthia said, shifting slightly in the seat. “There’s a great place downtown, called Lamb and Grass.” Nick nodded, willing himself not to react to the way Cynthia’s skirt rode up along her thigh ever so slightly.
“I think I’ve been there before,” Nick said. He leaned forward and pressed the button that slid down the divider between the driver’s compartment and the back of the car. “Could you take us to Lamb and Grass, please?” The driver grunted an agreement and the car pulled away.
