by Lisa Jackson
“And I don’t intend to keep this share-the-office situation indefinitely. I’m going to set up an executive suite with a private office for me, and one for my assistant. But not right now. I can’t waste the time or money on interior decorating just yet. I have to get this company back on its feet.”
They lapsed into silence, a tense one that Joanna felt compelled to break. “So I’m—um—hired to be an executive assistant?”
“Why not? You couldn’t be any worse than the last one.”
Joanna tried to look on the bright side. At least she didn’t have a renowned predecessor to live up to. On the other hand, she was following somebody who seemed to have soured Ryder Fortune on executive assistants. She was going to have to prove her worth to her new boss, and he didn’t strike her as somebody who was easily won over.
“Do you have a job description covering what an executive assistant does?” she asked gamely. “Then I’ll know what’s expected of me.”
Ryder smiled—rather evilly, Joanna thought.
“I’ll type up a job description for you right away. But first, throw out that old coffee I’m reheating and make a fresh pot. That’ll be one of your duties, to have fresh coffee waiting for me when I arrive every morning. Understand?”
Joanna shrugged. “Sure.” He seemed to be expecting her to protest.
“I get here at eight. That means you’ll have to be here earlier.”
“Duh,” Joanna murmured under her breath.
“What?”
“Yes, sir. I understand, and I will be here earlier than eight o’clock to have fresh coffee made,” she replied in what she hoped sounded like a crisp, efficient executive assistant tone.
“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, Joanna,” Ryder growled.
Joanna concluded she’d better work on her crisp, efficient executive assistant tone. “Sorry, sir.” There, that was better. She sounded contrite, even humble!
Ryder sat down in his chair to type up her job description.
“Would this be a good time to ask about my salary?” Joanna ventured before he touched the keyboard.
Ryder quoted an astronomical figure. Her jaw dropped. “I’ll be earning that?”
“Absolutely not. I was just making a little joke. I’m offering you—” He gave a significantly lower figure. “Plus benefits. But you’ll have to be here a month before they kick in. Four full work weeks,” he added. As if she’d last that long!
Joanna resisted the urge to point out that she didn’t appreciate sarcasm any more than he did. A good executive assistant didn’t indulge in one-upmanship with the boss, did she? “I’ll take it.”
“Not even going to try to bargain your salary higher?” he baited her. “Why not? Aren’t you interested in making more money? Of course, if you’re being subsidized by your sister and brother-in-law, you wouldn’t need—”
“If I wanted to be subsidized by Julia and Michael, I would have taken the faux job Mike invented for me at Fortune Corporation headquarters. I’d’ve moved into the ritzy apartment they offered me rent free. But I don’t want to be a Fortune charity case, at least not any more than I’ve already been. So I’m sharing a place with friends and I’m taking this job, even though it’s still Fortune largesse—kind of. But at least now that I’ve met you, I know you won’t cut me any slack just because I’m Julia’s sister. Which is good because I want to make my own way.”
She glowered at him, her eyes blazing. Ryder felt chastised. Bemused, he found himself watching her as she turned to work the computerized coffee machine.
That sweater dress fit her well, and the longer he looked, the more her figure seemed to improve before his very eyes. She was quite slim, but she had a curvy little butt and very well-shaped legs. True, her breasts were small, but enormous ones would make her look ridiculously top heavy. He watched her reach for a cup on the shelf above the table. It was high, and she had to stand on her toes to get it. Those chunky-heeled shoes of hers looked like something the Wicked Witch of the West might wear, but her legs were good enough to carry them off.
Joanna turned and caught him studying her. She raised her elegant dark brows.
Two
Busted! Ryder shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Now what? An idea struck. He cleared his throat. “That—um—that coffee machine is the kind of thing I want this company to design.”
“I see.” Joanna was more than willing to pretend he’d been studying the coffee machine, not her. “High-tech gadgetry like the stuff specialty catalogs sell.”
“We not only design household gadgets, but items for industrial and commercial businesses, as well. I’d like to see the company include state-of-the-art athletic exercise equipment, too. My own area of expertise is industrial engineering—I take inventors’ ideas and turn them into practical application. We have our own in-house product designers, of course, but I also want to sign contracts with independent inventors.”
His enthusiasm for expanding the company was contagious, Joanna realized. “Have you thought about a line of life-skills products?” Joanna asked eagerly. “If you’re looking to discover some new inventors, there are some really creative people out there who’ve come up with some terrific life-skills ideas—”
“Life skills? I’m not sure I follow, Joanna.”
“Life-skills products. Those are specially designed items that make everyday tasks easier for the disabled.” This was a subject dear to her heart. From her long rehabilitative struggle, she knew firsthand the difficulty simple household tasks could present to those who were physically challenged by birth or injury. She was personally acquainted with some people determined to alter that situation with unique adaptive devices.
If she could convince Ryder to implement those designs, to tap into a very real need…The prospect was exciting. A challenge for a genuine good. “You see, they can be something as simple as making a light switch accessible to someone in a wheelchair to—”
“I’m sure there are medical supply houses that carry that kind of stuff.” Ryder’s interest in her idea for his company was clearly flagging. “What I’m looking for are—”
“Medical supply houses are more interested in selling large equipment,” she cut in quickly. “You’d be surprised how difficult it is to find simple life-skills products on the market. A few small specialty catalogs try to fill the need but—”
He wondered how she knew so much about the handicapped and hospitals but didn’t pursue it.
“Joanna, Fortune’s Design isn’t about special-needs products for a limited market. I’m thinking big. I’m envisioning global success. A winning business operates on Darwinian principles—only the strongest, smartest and most adaptable survive in the marketplace. I intend for Fortune’s Design to be among that number.”
“Is that the running-with-the-crocodiles business philosophy or something?” Joanna grimaced.
“Are you trying to refer to the swimming-with-the-sharks metaphor?” Ryder was vaguely appalled. He’d committed passages of that invaluable business wisdom to memory, and she couldn’t even keep the predators straight.
“Whatever.” Joanna shrugged. “Focusing only on the strongest and smartest is—”
“The only way to succeed in business,” Ryder said flatly. “And Fortune’s Design has a way to go before we’re there. Our sales, marketing and human resources departments aren’t bad, although the employees start coming in about nine and—”
“Isn’t nine o’clock pretty much the normal start of office hours?”
“Nine o’clock is practically mid-morning!” Ryder scowled his exasperation. She was looking at him like he was Simon Legree, whip in hand. He attempted to explain. “Living by the clock is the antithesis of success. When I was mining rocks in South Africa, we weren’t compulsive clock-watchers, that’s for sure. We were there from dawn to—”
“Rocks? You mean diamonds?” Joanna was curious.
“Yeah.” Ryder actually smiled. “My great-aunt Kate sent me over there
. I wanted to break out, to do something exciting, and she came through for me in a major way!” He gave a reminiscent laugh. “We had some adventures over there that played like an Oliver Stone movie with characters straight from Central Casting. We worked hard, played hard, fought hard. Had a helluva time.”
“Sounds like you loved it.”
“Yeah, I did,” he said softly, gazing out the window at the bleak, gray Minneapolis sky. Snow was predicted again with temperatures heading for the single digits.
“Now I understand the palm tree and the monkey.” Joanna spoke her thoughts aloud. “Your sister was trying to give you something of an ‘Out of Africa’ touch here.”
“Weatherwise, scenerywise, every-which-waywise, it couldn’t be more different from here.”
“Do you miss it?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Then why are you here and not still over there?”
“I want to be here,” Ryder replied. She looked doubtful, and he nodded his head vigorously. “I was ready to leave. I’m really glad to be here. And lucky, too.”
Joanna was busy rearranging the items on the coffee table. “If you say so.”
“It’s true!” He seemed determined to convince her.
She sat down in her desk chair and swiveled to face him. She sensed a story coming.
Ryder launched right into it. “Last year, I uncovered a smuggling ring at one of the diamond mines. Some of the workers were using pigeons to smuggle stolen gems from high-security areas. I agreed to work undercover to catch the suspects red-handed so arrests could be made. And I did. They were caught and charged but there was some gunfire and I—”
Suddenly he stood up, removed his suit coat and pulled his shirt from his trousers. Joanna watched him, wide-eyed. When he tossed off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, her eyes grew even rounder. His chest retained a residual tan, and that alone was striking. At this time of year in wintry Minneapolis, most people were pale as ghosts, herself included. She couldn’t help but notice that the muscles of his chest and arms were strong and well-defined. Joanna swallowed hard. Yes, very well-defined.
Ryder flung his shirt on top of his coat and tie, and Joanna watched, fascinated, wondering what was going to go next.
It was something of a disappointment when he shed no more clothes. Instead, he pointed to the dark pink and purple scar on his shoulder. His very own battle scar, she guessed.
“This is where I took the bullet,” he said with a kind of endearing boyish pride.
“Wow!” Joanna did her best to look impressed, but she knew that in any “scar-off,” she would easily emerge the winner. After the car accident she’d had so many surgeries that her scars had scars. Her hips, her legs, her abdomen and chest. Even her head. She rubbed her skull unconsciously, her fingers tracing the unseen line where the fracture had been repaired. Of course, she wouldn’t dare whip off her clothes for a round of I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours.
“It was very painful,” Ryder said, moving closer so she could examine his scar in all its glory.
“I’m sure it was.” She stared at the scar, striving to look suitably awestruck. “First getting shot and then the physical therapy to regain and maintain range of motion.” She knew all about the rigors of physical therapy, she’d endured a grueling regime for years and still had exercises to keep her limber. If she didn’t do them regularly, she felt stiff and sore.
“I used to call the physical therapy room the torture chamber, and I nicknamed the therapist Torquemada.” Ryder named the Spanish grand inquisitor who’d known a thing or two about torture.
Joanna nodded knowingly. “Did you call the lab people ‘vampires’ when they came for blood samples?” She’d found that most hospital humor was essentially the same.
“Yeah.” Ryder laughed. “There was one in particular I called Dracula.”
There was always one of those, a lab technician who drew blood with an excess of exuberance. She winced, remembering. “Who said vampires were mythical? They’re around today, except the hospital variety imbibe with long needles instead of pointy teeth.”
“Too true. But when I was in the hospital, I had plenty of time to think. And all of a sudden I had this very clear comprehensive moment of insight.”
“An epiphany,” Joanna supplied helpfully. She’d had a few herself.
“Maybe it was. I just knew it was time to leave South Africa and come back to the States, to reconnect with my family and finally take my place in the corporate world I’d left behind all those years ago. I was prepared to be an employee in somebody else’s company but Aunt Kate made me an offer I couldn’t refuse—to take over this faltering design firm and turn things around. I have a year to get it back on track.”
“And then what?”
“Then the company is totally mine, free and clear!”
“And if you fail, it’s back to the diamond mines?”
“Oh, I have no intention of failing—which is why I’m working myself and the employees so hard.” Ryder’s hazel eyes glowed with messianic fervor. “We’re headed in the right direction, although I can’t let up the pressure. And I won’t. So, do you think you’re up to the job?” He wanted her to shake off her laconic air and rally to the cause, he wanted a dynamic commitment to Fortune’s Design.
“What you call pressure…” Joanna smiled—laconically—and jumped up to pour him a fresh cup of the perking coffee. “Would others call it intimidation?”
Her response didn’t please him. Did she have instigator potential? Having a troublemaker on the premises was one headache he could do without. Ryder frowned as he reached for his shirt and slipped it on.
“I’d like to see your résumé, if you have one, Joanna. List the places where you worked, who you worked for and what you did on the job,” Ryder ordered. As CEO, he had a right to know exactly who and what had been dumped on him.
“So you can check my references? Why? We both know you’re stuck with me, thanks to my brother-in-law.”
Was she teasing him? Ryder studied her intently. She was smiling. She really did have an incredibly appealing smile.
She probably knew it, and played it up for all it was worth, too. His cynical streak reared its ugly head. Possibly she was stalling, trying to divert him. Well, he wasn’t so easily charmed!
“You do have some typing and computer skills?” He almost held his breath.
“Suppose I say no? Am I fired?”
“Just answer the question, Joanna.”
“I can type a little and I’ve surfed the Net.”
What kind of qualifications were those? But like she said, he was stuck with her—at least for a while. Ryder tried to be gracious as he accepted his fate. “Welcome to Fortune’s Design, Joanna.”
“Yes, sweetie. I promise I’ll be over soon.” Joanna laughed softly into the phone. “No, not tonight, I’m working late. Tomorrow night for dinner? Well, I don’t know.”
Several feet away, seemingly engrossed in the numbers on his computer screen, Ryder was listening unabashedly to her conversation. He couldn’t complain about her taking personal calls on company time because it was her lunch hour. She hadn’t left the building, but had eaten a sandwich, an orange and a packaged cupcake at her desk, which had taken her all of ten minutes. She had plenty of free time left.
“What do you mean, sweetie?”
All this sugary talk was making him nauseous. Ryder frowned. Who in the hell was “sweetie,” anyway?
“I know. I miss you, too.” Joanna leaned back in her chair, absently rubbing her neck with her fingers.
Ryder watched as if mesmerized. The curve of her neck was graceful, the skin white and silky smooth. Her fingers were small and slender, and she wore a gold ring on the third finger of her right hand—the stone a square-cut, bluish violet amethyst. He’d learned a lot about gems, almost by default, during his tenure in South Africa, and he knew that particular variety of crystallized quartz from which her stone was cut, though pre
tty, wasn’t especially valuable.
But she faithfully wore that ring every day. Obviously it held sentimental value for her. Ryder wondered who had given it to her. Sweetie, perhaps?
“Give the phone to Mommy now, Phoebe,” Joanna instructed. “I need to talk to her.”
Ryder slowly expelled a long breath as the tension drained from his body. He slumped in his chair, feeling almost limp. “Sweetie” was little Phoebe, Joanna’s four-year-old niece.
“Phoebe invited me for dinner tomorrow, Jules.” Joanna sounded amused as she spoke to her sister. “She said she called me at work because she wanted to talk to me. When did she learn to use the phone? What? You’re kidding! Voice mail?”
Ryder smiled. Though he’d never been able to keep the names and ages of his many Fortune cousins’ children straight, he did know Michael and Julia’s daughters, thanks to all the photos of them adorning Joanna’s desk. The oldest child, Grace, named for her late grandmother Chandler; Phoebe, four; Felicity, three; and baby Noelle, who had been born the day after Christmas.
Joanna had confided to him that her small nieces had inspired an epiphany of her own, bringing her home last Thanksgiving to stay, because her brief visits were no longer enough for her. She wanted to be near her sister and to watch the little girls grow up in person, not in the photos and homemade videos that Julia faithfully sent to her, wherever she happened to be.
And Joanna had been everywhere, it seemed.
After reading her résumé, Ryder understood why the seriously career-minded Michael would refer to her work history as “checkered.” Although Joanna had held a number of jobs, they didn’t conform to anyone’s idea of a professional trajectory. Her education included a high school graduate equivalency degree and nothing beyond. Office work was totally unrelated to her previous positions. She’d been a nanny to different families in different cities—London, Paris, Frankfurt, Rome, Budapest.
“Budapest?” Ryder had exclaimed. “How did you end up there?”
“On a Euro-rail pass,” she’d said, though her mode of transportation was not what particularly interested him.
