Boardroom Proposal

by Way, Margaret

  Heat swept her like a hot wind. The hide of him, an extremely experienced deceiver, to censure her. She was under no misapprehension as to what she had witnessed. She had the evidence of her own eyes. But be careful, an inner voice warned her. Be very very careful. This is Drew Forsythe. He could put paid to her chances.

  She made herself glance towards him, her tone neutral. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I expect you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he answered in a clipped tone, much at variance with his previous warm, seductive tones. “In fact, I’d put money on it.”

  “I can’t afford to bet.” Though control was her watchword, the words leapt out.

  “I rather suspect you’re a paragon of all the virtues,” he drawled, teak brown gaze sardonic. “Ah, here’s your floor.” It was funny in its way, but he couldn’t seem to look away from her. Why? he wondered. She was hardly more than an overformal disapproving skinny kid. Then she turned her head! What a contradiction! Her mouth was heart-shaped with a full sensuous bottom lip. The mouth of a passionate woman. Now wasn’t that the damnedest thing! She didn’t look remotely like she’d been properly kissed in her life.

  “You can’t say good luck, Mr. Forsythe?” Eve asked, every part of her bridling at the flat-out intrigued and amused look in his eyes. Did he think every woman had to surrender to his sensual charisma? What a joke! Supremely sure of his own place in the firmament, he would accept without question she would know his name.

  “I’m sure you’ll rise very loftily above luck,” he rejoined suavely.

  “Damn!” Eve said softly as the lift doors closed behind her. “A thousand miserable damns.” She tried to relax taut muscles, feeling stunned. Never in her life had she met anyone who had impacted so powerfully. Control it, she thought. Get a hold of yourself. Those dictates had gotten her through the years. But the way he had looked at her. She found herself flushing all over her body. So she wasn’t gorgeous like the women he was used to. She had no glamorous image, no beautiful clothes. She was a working girl. Far from simple, her résumé would reveal as much, but with modest tastes to fit a modest budget. She always kept herself well groomed. Classic blouses, neat straight skirts, but there was no money for the slick power dressing some of her colleagues were able to afford.

  When she reached Mr. Tom Whelan’s office, his secretary, an exceptionally attractive young woman so chic Eve all of a sudden felt dreary, told her smilingly to take a seat. Mr. Whelan was a little behind schedule. Would she mind waiting?

  No problem. Eve slid into a plush leather armchair. She had spent a lot of time researching the corporation, accessing the Internet, reading up on all the relevant data, articles, statistics, whatever. There wasn’t much she didn’t know about the legendary Sir David that was in the public domain. She had even soaked up all the information on the son who was currently abusing his trust. Such betrayal made her feel fierce, but she had to put a rein on it. She needed this job. She had to get ahead. Make a lot more money. Ease the burden on Ben. Between his part-time jobs and intensive study it was a wonder he wasn’t heading for burnout. It did happen. Another brilliant young student in Ben’s year had dropped out of the course. It took a lot to make a doctor. Even more to top your class. Eve was enormously proud of Ben, happy to admit he was her intellectual superior, and she was no slouch.

  Quietly she leaned forward and picked up a copy of the Financial Times, glancing through it. She was starting to feel nervy, unable to put that disturbing confrontation behind her. Men as dangerous as Drew Forsythe had no part in her life. But how could she avoid seeing him if she got the job? His wife must have been heartbroken when he left her. She wasn’t being hard on him. Her friend Lisa had told her it was definite Forsythe had left his wife. Not the other way round. Lisa’s mother, a society hostess, was well up on all the gossip.

  As she idly turned the pages, the door to Tom Whelan’s office opened and a super-confident, preppy-looking young man emerged. Tom Whelan, a heavy-set man with a benign but businesslike expression, shook him by the hand, delivering the usual, “We’ll be in touch.”

  The young man, still smiling securely, flicked a quick assessing glance over Eve, decided she wasn’t a threat, then with a thank-you for the secretary continued on his way.

  “Miss Copeland?” Tom Whelan threw out an arm, indicating Eve should come in to his office. They shook hands, Eve instantly recognising his reaction from his eyes. She had seen it before. Too young Too inexperienced. Too fresh out of university. Inside the large office, as opulent as Eve expected, Whelan lost no time getting the pleasantries out of the way but he was barely into the interview before the phone on his desk rang.

  He picked it up quickly. “I thought I told you, Ellie.” A pause. “Oh, I see.” A long, drawn out e—e—e. “That’s interesting,” he remarked to Eve as he hung up. “I know I could use the break, but I didn’t think Drew, Mr. Forsythe, that is, would involve himself in proceedings. I usually handle all the preliminaries for him. It’s your lucky day, Miss Copeland. Our CEO will conduct the rest of this interview. Don’t let it make you nervous,” he urged her, catching a curious rigidity in her expression. “Mr. Forsythe is used to putting people at their ease.”

  A moment more passed before Drew Forsythe arrived. They heard his voice before they saw him, exchanging a greeting with Whelan’s secretary. The deeply etched smile was still in place as he entered and Tom Whelan sprang to his feet, stepping forward with a warm smile himself that so far as Eve could see was genuine.

  “You’re not in the habit of doing this sort of thing, chief?”

  “And the young lady here is clearly unsettled.” The brilliant gaze moved to Eve’s dark blond head.

  “No need to be,” Whelan shot back, grinning like Forsythe was one hell of a guy.

  “Take a break, Tom. Go get a coffee,” Forsythe urged.

  “Thanks, Drew. It’ll be welcome.” Whelan gave Eve a relaxed glance. “Best of luck, Miss Copeland.”

  After Whelan had gone, Drew Forsythe took a seat behind the broad executive desk and leaned back, hands locked behind his sleek dark head.

  “I think you and I had better have a little talk, don’t you?” He gave her a cryptic little smile, dark eyes glinting.

  “I’d welcome that, Mr. Forsythe,” Eve responded in an appropriate businesslike manner when she knew the question was not. “My résumé is on the desk there. Mr. Whelan had only just begun the interview.”

  “I’m not talking about résumés, Miss...Copeland, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Eve Copeland.” If his intent was to disarm her, she had no use for his charm.

  “Ah, yes.” He opened her file and had a quick glance through it. “Résumés are all very well,” he said, shutting it, “but they don’t tell everything one needs to know.”

  What was she supposed to say? Your secret is safe with me? Wasn’t that his motivation?

  “Actually what I wanted to discuss is what you thought you saw earlier at the lift.”

  Here it was, the moment to lose her head. But she resisted. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Mr. Forsythe,” she parried.

  “Unhappily, Miss Copeland, you do. I caught your expression. On a little circumstantial evidence you decided to play judge and jury and bring in a verdict.”

  She held his dark gaze, confident this time her real feelings didn’t show in her eyes. “Whatever I saw, Mr. Forsythe, it was none of my business.”

  “So tell me, as a professional courtesy, what did you see, Miss Copeland? What provoked you into giving me that icy self-righteous look.”

  He appeared to be enjoying this. She had never seen such...mockery, mischief, whatever in a man’s eyes. “Your imagination, Mr. Forsythe,” she said, “my mind was preoccupied with the coming interview.”

  He shrugged, toying with a gold pen on the desk. “Tell me, did you recognise the lady I was with?”

  “Of course.” Eve nodded her head. “Just about anyone in the city could identify her. Lady F
orsythe.” She longed to add your father’s wife, but that was way too hazardous.

  “So when you saw her in my arms your suspicious mind immediately translated that into an affair?”

  “Forgive me, I’m sure you would never do anything so dangerous,” Eve answered smoothly.

  “Or immoral.” His response, on the other hand, was rapid-fire and curt. “Lady Forsythe was confiding her worries in me. She was in need of comfort and I was there to provide it. That’s all there was to it.”

  What a lie! “If you say so, Mr. Forsythe.” Eve lowered her eyes. “As I mentioned before, it’s really none of my business.”

  “Then why did you react like someone had slapped you in the face?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Eve evaded. “I was merely surprised.”

  “I would hate to think you were given to gossip.” He looked at her.

  “I have no intention of mentioning the incident, Mr. Forsythe,” Eve said, looking cool and unruffled. “I’m not given to casual gossip. Not about things that can hurt people.”

  “But you’re relentless in your judgments.” He kept his eyes on her, constantly weighing her up.

  “I consider things very carefully first. Really, Mr. Forsythe, the whole thing scarcely warrants mention.”

  He laughed. “I would have thought so, too, only for what I saw in your eyes. I suppose if you manage to land this job you’d be following my every move,” he commented dryly, reopening her file and studying it more fully. “Your resume would seem to say you’re special?”

  “I’ve had a fast rise with Pearce Musgrave,” she pointed out.

  He looked down at the open page, frowning slightly. “So I see. Why do you want to leave?”

  “Two things,” she said crisply. “I need to earn more money and I prefer to work in a company that doesn’t have a glass ceiling.”

  “I bet. I can see you’re a career woman.” The dark eyes swept her. “And do you plan to do something dramatic with more money?” he asked, deadpan.

  “It would make life easier. I have a younger brother. He’s a brilliant med student but he has a long way to go,” Eve replied coolly.

  He appeared to digest that, a slight frown between his black brows. “Can’t your parents help out?” he asked finally. “Do you have to be his banker?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Eve gave a quite involuntary sigh. “My parents divorced when we were children. My mother was killed in a road accident a few years ago. Ben and I only have each other.”

  He pulled her file closer to him, seized by a thrust of sympathy. “All I can say is he’s very lucky to have you for a sister. I see you handled the refinancing for Hertford’s.” There was sharp reappraisal in his eyes.

  “One of my success stories,” Eve said with a quiet pride. “I also initiated the Newton Ransome merger. It’s all there in the file.”

  “So Pearce Musgrave did allow you to pull together some strategies?” He lifted his dark head, looking at her dryly.

  “I can’t deny they treat me well. But I think it will take me a very long time indeed before I’m allowed to handle anything really big. I had a proposal for State Wide Airlines but it was taken out of my hands. As it turned out, all my good ideas were subsequently implemented.”

  “Can you prove that?” The dark timbered voice was clipped and businesslike.

  “I believe I can,” Eve said with certainty. “I have my original dated proposal. It was long before things began to happen.”

  “So, a deep disappointment?” Again that shrewd regard.

  She shrugged. “They happen.”

  He sat reading a while longer, occasionally looking up at her, then snapped the file shut as if it only contained bits of paper.

  “So, you’re looking for a position in the higher echelons, Miss Copeland?”

  “I’m certainly working towards it. In tune I hope to prove myself. I’m proud of the things I’ve done. I put in a lot of work on the Newton Ransome merger but I think the project I’m most proud of was turning a small business around when I was only seventeen.”

  One black eyebrow shot up, rather humorously. “And how exactly did that happen?”

  “You may know the business concerned. Small, surely, but doing very nicely. Stewart Strafford’s, the jeweller?” Eve spoke quite seriously.

  He shot her a look of momentary surprise. “Actually I know Charlie Strafford quite well. We often team up for a game of golf.”

  “Charles is Mr. Strafford’s son, as I’m sure you know.”

  He nodded. “I’ve met Mr. Strafford. A very kind, gentle man. But Charlie’s very bright. Are you trying to tell me you were responsible for getting Strafford’s out of the red?”

  Eve gave a nod of assent. “I am. Mr. Strafford would vouch for me. Charles is very bright but he wasn’t all that focused on his father’s small business. He was newly married with a promising career of his own. Mr. Strafford gave me a job through high school and university. Behind the counter, doing the books. He’s an old family friend. He wanted to help out. It was a great pleasure to me to be able to reorganise his business affairs. I don’t think it’s a secret he was almost on the point of bankruptcy. When I started with Pearce Musgrave I hired him the right manager.”

  The teak brown eyes narrowed. “When I see Charlie I’ll ask him.”

  “I hope you will,” Eve replied simply.

  “So you started young?

  “I had to. I’ve always had a good business brain. That’s why I chose commerce and business administration.” She didn’t add she had inherited her abilities from her father. She never acknowledged that small detail.

  “So how else do you think you’d be a good addition to TCR?” His voice was a touch mischievous but Eve continued in a serious vein.

  “I’m not very old, twenty-four, but I’ve worked a long time. I handled our family budget. My mother was wonderful but—” Eve paused, momentarily unable to go on. Her mother had let her father handle everything.

  For a split second he saw the deeply hidden vulnerability in her beautiful large almond eyes. It sheened the irises like unshed tears.

  “It says in my résumé I have plenty of drive,” she continued in a firmer voice. “I just want to be able to use it.”

  “The position of Executive Assistant mightn’t offer you all the chances you’re after,” he warned.

  “I aim to use it as a stepping stone. I can deal with lots of problems. I have a proven track record pulling together budgets and strategies. I like Mr. Whelan. I know I can work well with him.”

  He rocked back in the leather chair, his face breaking into that rakish engaging grin. “Hang on. I’m the one looking for the executive assistant, not Tom. You won’t be working with him at all.”

  Eve bit back her dismay. “That was never made clear.”

  He shrugged elegant wide shoulders. “Well, you said yourself the interview had only just begun.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” Eve kept her face impassive.

  “Does this make a difference?” he asked with another quizzical lift of a brow.

  She couldn’t have picked a worse boss. “It’s a surprise, that’s all.”

  He noted the veiled eyes. “As it happens, the interviews are already concluded. Bright young men and women. I didn’t specify gender,” he added, with a dry look.

  “I did see a young man come out as I was waiting.”

  “Time for a change, I suppose,” he murmured as though speaking to himself. “You say you need the extra money, but that, Miss Copeland, is only part of it. There’s a whole lot more you should know if it’s decided you’re the person I’m looking for. While we’ve been talking I’ve been looking over Tom’s ratings. They’re right here. I have to say on paper at least, you would seem to be the winning candidate. You’ve come from one of our top merchant banks with a resume a sight better than anyone else’s. My current assistant, Jamie Foster, is up for promotion on my recommend
ation. You’d have a hard act to follow. I can’t spend a lot of time trawling the pool of talent. I need someone now.”

  “I’m sure.” Eve responded to the flicker of impatience in his face. He had such an aura it threw off sparks.

  “Are you?” he abruptly challenged. “You’d have to lose that-straight-out-of-a-convent air.”

  Eve sat straighter. “I beg your pardon?”

  Colour in her pale cheeks gave her a flash of real beauty. “Maybe it has more to do with your expression than your neat dressing?” he suggested.

  “Surely there’s no law against understated dressing.” A trace of hauteur showed in her green eyes. She should have looked a little prig but she didn’t.

  He smiled lazily. Turning the attraction on and off, Eve thought, trying to show no reaction. Those smiles were like beams of light.

  “Of course not,” he agreed smoothly. “But you do see a top executive assistant will be required to adopt a more high-profile image.”

  Eve felt a razor-sharp stab of resentment. What a terrible way to start a job. “I do appreciate that piece of information, Mr. Forsythe.”

  He burst out laughing at the tartness of her tone. “That’s okay. I’m always breaking the rules. The furthest thing from my mind is to offend you, Miss Copeland. Your appearance is impeccable. I’m merely stating it will be necessary for the chosen candidate to dress up to the job. You surely know what I mean. I see what you’ve been making at Pearce Musgrave. Not a lot for a young woman with your qualifications and proven abilities. This position offers quite a bit more. It should cover power dressing. Isn’t that what it’s called?”

  Eve studied the handsome face in front of her. No. Handsome didn’t say it. No way! Beyond handsome. He had some extra dimension to him like an electrical field And quite a reputation. In business. In bed. But never a whiff of scandal. Up until now. “So when do I start?” she asked, convinced he was toying with her. Damn it, she didn’t need this. So she needed a career wardrobe? Even Lisa had had a word with her, but money was so tight. Damn him for noticing. But why wouldn’t he? All the women in his life reeked of glamour. She felt a surge of dislike.