Jill shook her head, wishing that Trina would at least lower her voice a bit. The last thing she needed right now was for Allison to overhear and dash over, accusing Jill yet again of lagging behind on the job. “Haven’t left my desk since I got here, actually,” she muttered. “Even to use the ladies room. So, no, I haven’t seen this consultant? Why? Is he attractive or something?”
“Attractive!” gasped Trina. “That’s probably the understatement of the century. He’s gorgeous, Jill, absolutely gorgeous! Dark hair, dark eyes, the kind of body you want to crawl up and wrap yourself around. And the way the man wears a suit should be against the law. Roslyn is convinced what he’s wearing is bespoke, probably from some horrendously expensive tailor on Savile Row in London. And with her design degree she knows what she’s talking about.”
Jill frowned a bit irritably, thinking that this was all way too much information. She had learned that bespoke meant something that was specifically tailor made for a particular person, and that such an item was extremely costly. She was tempted to point out to Trina that having a certificate in design from the local community college hardly qualified Roslyn as an expert in the fashion business, but bit her tongue at the last minute.
“Why London of all places?” inquired Jill.
“Oh, because he’s British, of course!” explained Trina. “I heard him speaking to my manager, and I swear I almost swooned right on the spot. I mean, how perfect of a man could you conjure up anyway - good looking, well built, sophisticated, rich? And then you throw in that dreamy accent and it’s almost too much, you know? Oh, and even his name is classy - Maxwell Wainwright. I mean, doesn’t that just sound like something out of a classic novel or something?”
“Well, I’m glad he was able to brighten up your day,” offered Jill with another little smile. “And normally I’d love to chat with you some more about this dreamboat, but I’m totally swamped, Trina. Sorry.”
“Hey, no worries, I understand.” Trina lowered her voice to a whisper. “If I worked for that witch Allison I’d be scared to death of making even the tiniest mistake. Speaking of which, I understand she’s in even more of a snit than usual today because she did her damndest to get flirty with the consultant and he shot her down with a cold stare. Ooh, don’t you wish you’d been around to see that?”
Fortunately Trina got the hint and took herself off after that last bit of shared information, but Jill couldn’t help feeling a rather snarky sense of satisfaction at the news. She knew that her perfectly groomed, sophisticated manager also had quite an ego, and considered herself nearly irresistible to men. It must have been something of a shock, therefore, when her flirtatious overtures were ignored, especially by a man supposedly as attractive as this Maxwell Wainwright. Jill wondered if perhaps that was the reason why Allison had been extra unpleasant earlier today, and vowed to keep her interactions with the older woman as brief as possible for the rest of the day.
The afternoon flew by, with Jill keeping a determined nose to the grindstone so that she could hopefully finish all of her work on time for a change. She really needed to get a few hours of research done for the project she was working on for one of her classes, and even an extra fifteen minutes tonight would be of help. She intentionally didn’t look up when she heard other employees walk by, crossing her fingers that any of her friends would get the hint that she was buried under with work and wouldn’t stop to chat or say hello.
It was impossible, however, not to overhear several more of the female employees who passed by chattering to each other about the “smoking hot consultant” or asking if the other person had caught a glimpse of “that gorgeous hunk of man”. Jill shook her head in annoyance, wondering why on earth all of them were so smitten with this man, and feeling thankful that she wasn’t the sort to get all googly-eyed about a guy, no matter how good looking he might be.
Five o’clock arrived without her having taken a single break, even to use the ladies room, and she exhaled deeply, taking a moment or two to massage her stiff neck and flex her fingers. She estimated that she had perhaps another half hour’s worth of work to finish, and stood up for a quick stretch, wondering if she wanted to take a few precious minutes to use the restroom and maybe grab some coffee.
But Allison happened to walk by just at that moment, her black cashmere coat draped over her arm, and carrying the black leather Saint Laurent satchel that had cost close to two thousand dollars, according to Trina’s friend Roslyn. Her perfectly made-up features - smoky, dramatically shaded and lined dark blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and pouty lips glossed over in shiny scarlet - contorted unpleasantly into a scowl when she spied Jill standing and stretching.
“You’re not getting ready to leave yet, are you?” she demanded nastily. “There’s no way even someone with your supposed efficiency could have finished all that work already. And it has to get done today, Jill. So I suggest you stop goofing off and get back to it. Don’t forget that if Max recommends we need to cut back on staff the first layoffs are going to start from the bottom up, so I’d be more than a little worried about my job right now if I were you.”
Jill had never been more tempted to pick up the stack of papers she still needed to input and fling them all around her cubicle, then announce cheerfully that Allison could take the job and suck on it. But, as usual, she bit her tongue and merely took her seat.
“I was just stretching my legs for a moment,” she replied quietly, taking a seat and returning her attention back to the computer screen. “And I wasn’t planning on leaving until all of this is finished, probably another half hour at most.”
Allison looked a bit put out that Jill hadn’t defended herself more vehemently, and Jill thought again that the raven haired woman was spoiling for a fight more than usual. She wondered why on earth Allison always seemed so unhappy, like she was angry with the universe, especially when she seemingly had so much to be thankful for. Allison had a great job, with a hefty salary, incredible benefits, and tons of prestige. She was beautiful, sexy, and dressed like a model, including today’s outfit of a form fitting black wool pencil skirt, dark blue silk blouse, and black stiletto pumps that Jill recognized as Louboutins from their signature red sole. Jill guessed the diamond stud earrings, pendant, and gold bangle bracelet the other woman wore were all real and very costly, totaling to far more money than Jill would have ever dreamed of spending on herself.
And yet, despite all of the physical attributes she’d been graced with, the luxurious lifestyle to which she was apparently accustomed to, and a position that very few people could ever hope to obtain, Allison was bitter, cold, and unfriendly. If she had a friend anywhere in the office, Jill would have been surprised, since her superior always seemed to be alone.
Allison’s full lips pursed together in annoyance, but she merely flicked her long, glossy black hair over her shoulder and gave a little sniff. “Fine,” she retorted irritably. “And you’d better make sure everything is a hundred percent accurate. I swear, this consultant has a mind like a fucking computer, he doesn’t miss a thing.”
Jill merely nodded in response. “Of course.”
Without so much as a “good night” Allison turned on her heel and flounced off, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume in her wake, and allowing Jill to utter a sigh of relief.
‘Maybe I should just put both of us out of our misery,’ she grumbled to herself, ‘and hand in my resignation. I saw a notice posted on the front door of Old Navy that they’re hiring. So what if it’s minimum wage? You can get by for a few months, can’t you?’
But even as the thought crossed her mind, Jill knew she wouldn’t actually quit, and it wasn’t because of the salary. Rather, it wasn’t in her nature to be a quitter, and she was determined to see this job through. Besides, she thought rather unkindly, it would only make Allison happy if she quit, and the very last thing she wanted to do was bring even a smidgen of joy into that woman’s life.
“Well, thank God that there�
��s one live body remaining in this place. Hopefully you know how to work the photocopy machine since everyone else seems to have bolted for the exits already.”
Jill glanced up in alarm at the sound of the decidedly annoyed - and definitely British - male voice, her troubles with Allison instantly forgotten as she stared up into the most arrestingly handsome masculine face she’d ever seen. And as her startled pale green eyes collided with his dark brown ones she faintly realized two things - first, this had to be the consultant who had caused such a stir among the female employees here in this office. And second, she’d been exactly right after glimpsing that rainbow earlier today - something extraordinary had in fact happened. Correction, someone extraordinary.
She surged to her feet a bit unsteadily, feeling her cheeks flush as the very intimidating Maxwell Wainwright gave her a rather odd look. “Um, yes. Yes, of course, I do. Did you need to have something copied, sir? I mean, of course you must, otherwise why would you have asked?”
The corners of his sinfully sexy mouth turned up slightly, almost unwillingly, as though he couldn’t help but be amused at the way she stammered uncertainly and then almost tripped over her own feet as she hurried over to where he’d been hovering in the hallway near her cubicle. He was carrying a thick stack of papers, and appeared both weary and annoyed.
“I’ll need three copies of each of these, collated and stapled,” he announced briskly, plunking the whole stack in her outstretched arms. “If you could bring them to my office when you’ve finished, I would appreciate it.”
Jill nodded. “Of course, sir. Um, just one question, please. Which office have they assigned you to?”
“End of this hallway, on the right,” he replied briskly. “I’ll be there waiting.”
The implication in his tone was clear that he expected his copies to be delivered to him promptly, so Jill hurried off in the opposite direction toward the copy room, not even daring to sneak a quick peak as he strode down the hallway to his office.
She tried to control the trembling of her hands as she programmed the rather complex photocopy machine. Though it wasn’t an official part of her job duties to make copies, she had nonetheless learned how to operate the intimidating looking machine, along with a variety of other clerical tasks. Allison didn’t much care about such trivial things as official job duties when she needed something done, and tended to bark orders at whatever staff member was in the vicinity, expecting them to jump at her slightest command.
As she continued to feed documents into the copy machine, Jill couldn’t help but notice the various types of reports that Mr. Wainwright was evidently studying - everything from the standard profit and loss statistics to human resources data to current inventory levels in the warehouses. He was obviously prepared to be very, very thorough in his assessment of the company’s current financial standings, though in reality, thought Jill caustically, he’d probably summed up the overall picture with one glance at the most recent quarterly report - just as she had done.
She breathed out a sigh of relief when the copy job finished up quicker than she had anticipated, and without any complications like an annoying paper jam or the toner cartridge needing to be replaced. She picked up the now much taller, heavier stack of papers and carefully made her way down the long hallway to where Max Wainwright would be impatiently waiting for her.
He glanced up from the laptop computer he’d been typing on, a look of surprise on his darkly handsome features. “That was fast,” he commented, rising smoothly to his feet. “Here, let me help you, hmm? That stack must be quite heavy.”
“Thank you,” she murmured softly as he relieved her of most of the reports. She placed the rest of the stack on the same corner table where he had set the others.
“I suppose I should be the one thanking you,” he replied. “Though that might be a bit difficult considering I don’t know your name.”
Jill felt her cheeks flush as she extended her hand towards him. “I’m Jill, Mr. Wainwright. Jill Parrish. And there’s no need to thank me, sir, just doing my job.”
Max Wainwright glanced down at her hand for a moment or two before clasping it firmly in his much larger one. Jill couldn’t prevent a low gasp from escaping her lips as the touch of his warm skin on hers was almost like an electrical shock. She’d never experienced such an immediate and powerful reaction to anyone before, had never been as instantly and completely aware of a man until this very moment. And from the startled expression in Max Wainwright’s dark eyes, it was evident that he was experiencing a similar such reaction.
She thought he murmured “My, God” under his breath before giving his head a quick shake, as though to clear his thoughts. He withdrew his hand slowly, maybe even a bit reluctantly, and gazed down at her from his superior height with a quizzical expression.
“A pleasure to meet you, Jill Parrish,” he replied softly. “And I’ll presume from your manner of speech that you’re originally from one of the southern states.”
Jill nodded. “South Carolina, sir. Though I really thought I was starting to lose the drawl. After all, I’ve been living in Seattle for going on two years now.”
Max smiled faintly. “I would say that you still have some work to do, then, if losing the drawl is your intent.” His smile deepened. “Now that I think of it, I believe I might have said almost the exact same thing once to a close friend of mine when we first met in college. Jordan is from Atlanta originally, and while he has hardly any trace of a drawl remaining nowadays, the same couldn’t be said for our first meeting. But my advice to you, Ms. Parrish, is to keep the southern drawl for as long as possible. In my opinion, it’s quite charming.”
If her cheeks had felt warm before, now they were positively on fire, as she somehow managed to croak a reply to his very unexpected compliment. “Um, thank - thank you, Mr. Wainwright. And, please, call me Jill. We’re not very formal here in Seattle. Not like back home in the south. Or like England, I’m assuming.”
His smile faded at the mention of England, and Jill wondered if perhaps he was homesick. “No, Seattle is nothing at all like England. Except, perhaps, for the cold, rainy weather. And if we’re tossing formality out the window, then I insist you call me Max. Calling me Mr. Wainwright - or worse, sir - makes me feel even older than I am.”
“You’re not old!” Jill blurted out impulsively. “I mean, obviously you’re older than I am, but that doesn’t mean you’re old. At least, I would never think of you that way.”
Max’s smile returned, and he even managed a chuckle. “Well, thank you very much, Jill. Not only for getting all of those copies made but also for your kindness to an - well, let’s just call me an older man, shall we?”
“Okay.” She glanced over at the intimidatingly tall stack of reports on the side table, wondering if he planned somehow on looking through all of them tonight. “I’d, um, better get back to my cubicle now, I still have a little work to finish before I can go home. My manager would have a fit if it wasn’t all done by tonight.”
He frowned. “Who exactly is your manager? I’ll make certain that he or she knows how helpful you were to me, and that it’s my fault if your work isn’t finished. I’d hate to keep you here later than necessary.”
Jill shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no, that’s really not necessary, Mr. - I mean, Max. Honestly, I’ve got less than half an hour’s worth of data entry to do, and then I’m out the door. And please don’t say anything to Allison, she won’t appreciate it.”
Max shrugged. “I don’t much care if Allison - I presume you mean Ms. Sommers? - appreciates it or not. She comes across as far too arrogant for my liking, not to mention - well, never mind. Now, I’ve taken up enough of your time, Jill. Thank you again. It was - a great pleasure to meet you.”
“Yes, same here,” she murmured shyly, glancing first at her feet, then over at the stack of reports again, and finally back at Max. “Do you need - I mean, is there anything else I can help you with? I’m j
ust a data entry clerk, really, but there are lots of other things I do around here as needed - word processing, filing, scanning, that sort of thing. Or I could maybe get you a cup of coffee if you’d like. Or tea. The, um, espresso cart closed up around three o’clock but there’s one of those Nespresso machines in the break room, it would just take a couple of minutes.”
He hesitated before replying. “That’s really not necessary, Jill. I don’t want to bother you any further this evening, or keep you from your work.”
“It’s no bother at all,” she assured, suddenly aware of how her honeyed southern drawl had deepened unintentionally. “Honestly.”
“All right, then. A cup of tea actually sounds like a bit of heaven right now,” admitted Max. “Thank you, Jill, you’re very kind. And very gracious. A real southern lady.”
She grinned. “My grandmother always insisted on good manners, and offering a beverage to anyone who visited. Habit, I guess. Is there any particular flavor of tea you’d prefer? And how do you take it?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Anything is fine. And just one sugar, please. But, truly, only if you’re sure you can spare the time.”
“It will take less than five minutes,” she promised. “I’ll be back in a flash.”
Jill practically jogged down the hallway and then around the next bend until she reached the employee break room, where she brewed a cup of Earl Grey tea without delay. As she stirred a packet of sugar into the hot beverage, she wondered what on earth had possessed her to offer to fetch Max Wainwright a cup of tea. And while a man of his age and obvious self-assuredness should have intimidated her to the point where she couldn’t wait to make her escape, Jill marveled at the fact that it was just the opposite. She knew without question that she’d deliberately volunteered to get him tea - not to mention her almost gushing offer to help with any other work he might need done - because she wanted to remain in his presence for as long as possible. He fascinated her, lured her in almost like she was his willing prey, in a way she’d never experienced before, not even a tiny bit. And while she still felt shy around him, as she did with most men, she also felt oddly comfortable at the same time, almost as though she had known him for a long time.
The One Real Regret Page 12
