by Anne Conley
It was darker back here, and it wasn’t until she was nearly against the back wall that she saw a door, presumably to an office. Hesitantly, she knocked, nervous, her heart in her throat. “Mr. Calahan?”
“Enter,” a sharp voice barked out. Trembling slightly, she turned the knob and was faced with a man who could be handsome if he wasn’t so… creepy. What was the worst he could do? Honestly? She told herself he wouldn’t do anything really bad here in the bar. She was safe. There wasn’t anything terrible she could think of he could do besides belittle her appearance, laugh at her, or call her names. She’d heard all that before. It would hurt, probably, but it wasn’t really all that bad in the scheme of things. That perspective got Miriam in the door to Mr. Calahan’s office.
He stood, looming over a computer like he was about to smash it, wearing too-tight jeans, a leather vest over a white tank top, and nothing else but a sneer. The sneer was aimed at the computer because when she came inside the tiny office, it was replaced with a leer as he gave her a slow onceover. A shiver of unease slowly tracked up her spine, and Miriam squared her shoulders to abolish it. Looks weren’t going to hurt her.
“Nice…” He growled. “Hey, you know how to work this?” He turned the computer monitor to face her, showing a basic books program, probably the one that came with whatever software package he’d bought with his system. Apparently, her appearance passed his inspection, and relief tinged with a tingle of indignation swept through her. She breathed out a sigh.
“Yes, I do. I have a Bachelor’s in Business Administration and Finance…” Miriam began extolling her hard-won virtues. She had fought Vincent hard for the right to go to school; he only acquiesced when he realized how much money she could make.
Impatient, he interrupted her. “Excel. Do you know Excel?”
“Yes, I know Excel.” She sighed. This man was running a business and didn’t know? No wonder the bar was going through money like a sieve.
“I need someone to do the payroll, inventory, place orders, and manage the staff. Do you have experience with any of that?” He asked the question in a frustrated grumble, and Miriam nodded, reluctant to sound too smart. He seemed to match the description of what Simon and Quinten said. He hired pretty faces without the brains. Mr. Calahan needed someone to do his books and look good doing them, and she was going to be his girl.
Resolutely, she stood in front of him while he perused her appearance, eyes lingering on her tube socks. She stifled the smile threatening to curve her lips, and finally just gave in, trying to make it look seductive and sexy, having no idea if she was successful or not. He didn’t have to know he was ogling tube socks, did he? Her amusement was contagious, and he returned her smile. It was nice, if a little greasy with the way his eyes were still glued to her boob area.
“Can you start tonight? I’ve got to get payroll done right this time. Bo behind the bar thinks she’s a mathematician or some shit and that ain’t working for me.” His voice sounded like he’d just chewed up a bunch of asphalt.
“You need me to do payroll tonight? How many employees?” If it was already set up with pay scales and stuff, that was doable, but if she had to start from scratch it would definitely take longer.
“Five.” He was still standing behind his desk, and as he spoke he raked his hand through his hair, flashing her a disarming smile. He had good teeth. That was nice. She could admit he was charming when he wanted to be.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Great.” He grabbed a jacket off the back of his chair, leather to match the vest. Figured. “I’ve got to go out for some business, I’ll come back in a couple of hours. You’re hired.” He offered one last ogle of her fake breasts and left her alone in the room.
Is he serious? He just left her alone in his office, with his computer, the first day on the job? Not even the job, an interview. And she hadn’t even filled out any paperwork yet.
Piece of cake. She could do Simon proud. Getting a glance at his financials the first fifteen minutes on the job would make this a cinch.
Clearing a pile of papers off the desk, Miriam sat at the computer to make sense of the mess Mr. Calahan had made. Six hours later, she had transferred the information from Excel to the bookkeeping software he had and payroll for five employees was done. While the checks printed, she went ahead and emailed the office everything she could find that might point to where the money had gone and if it had even come through the bar. On first glance, she couldn’t find a large injection of liquid funds in the bar, but she could peruse more thoroughly later. Checks in hand, she made her way out to the front of the bar, which was considerably fuller than when she’d come in.
An additional bartender was there, and Miriam watched the two work after ordering herself a water. They didn’t seem to work well together. Both attractive women, they added validity to Simon’s statement about the boss hiring for looks and not talent. An undercurrent of tension ran through the women, and they seemed to be competing for tips, each one flirting with the other’s customers when they turned their backs.
Nice.
Neither woman smiled at her, all smiles reserved for paying customers. Resolving to try to get on their good sides tomorrow, when she hadn’t already worked a twelve-hour day, she finished her water and went home, utterly exhausted.
Jake was at the market again, trying not to focus on the fact he’d spent twenty minutes deciding if he wanted to eat the herb rotisserie chicken or the barbecue flavored for the next four days.
“Mr. Calahan?” a hesitant voice sounded behind him. He turned and was surprised to see a gorgeous redhead looking at him with wide, green eyes. He kept looking—his heart suddenly thudding in his chest, unable to tear his gaze away—and discovered they weren’t wide, they were huge. God, how did one person have the right to be so damned pretty? Wait, she’d spoken to him first. He shook himself.
“It’s Jake. I’m only Mr. Calahan at work.” He chuckled sheepishly at his answer. Holding out his hand, he hoped she’d say where she knew him from, but she didn’t. She only took his hand in her dainty one and shook it. It was warm and smooth, and the way it made Jake’s entire arm heat up was fantastic. He pumped her hand a few times just to prolong the contact.
“Good to know that.” Her voice was a warm tinkle in his ears, like rich bell tones, causing a warmth to explode in his chest and spread to his stomach.
He didn’t think he knew her from the studio; he’d never forget that face. It was round, and symmetrical, with a smattering of freckles across her nose. Her hair was flaming red, a beautiful frame for those enormous, green eyes. Her mouth was diminutive in comparison, a tiny heart-shaped thing he had an insane urge to trace with his fingers. Or his tongue. He didn’t dare look at any other part of her body, afraid his urge to stare would be just as bad with other things, making him a lecherous old man instead of the gentleman he prided himself on being.
God, he wanted to take her picture. In fact, if he had his camera with him, he’d probably start snapping away.
“I’m sorry… I’m shit with names. Can you tell me yours again? I promise not to forget.” How could he? The thought crossed his mind that she knew Joe, not him, but that thought was immediately dismissed. This woman couldn’t be a friend of Joe’s. She didn’t look strung out, smell like cigarettes, or dress like a two-bit hussy. He allowed his eyes to skim her body surreptitiously and found her dressed in jeans and a top with a ruffle across the breast, covered in an oversized blazer with the sleeves rolled up to expose slender wrists. He didn’t focus on her shape, but he could tell it was perfect—all the curves in just the right places.
“Miriam,” she offered, her face a mask of questions. Okay, so he should know her, and now he felt like a tool.
“Right! Of course. I was going to say Mary Anne, but I knew that was wrong,” he tried to cover, but judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t buying it. She looked very disappointed, and the urge to change that was strong. He glanced at her shopping ba
sket in an attempt to find something to redeem himself. “That’s the wrong wine for bleu cheese. You’ll want something heartier to go with the flavor of the cheese, like a Riesling, or a port. Some sort of dessert wine. If you’re pairing those two together, that is.” Jake smiled at her but was afraid it was more of a leer, feeling the expression stretch across his face helplessly. He hadn’t reacted this strongly to a woman since Abby, and he really didn’t want to screw it up.
She laughed at him, and the sound washed over Jake, making his bones tingle. He couldn’t remember ever being affected by a woman this way. Certainly not by a random encounter in the grocery store. “Wow. I hadn’t pegged you for the connoisseur,” she breathed at him as her laugh faded.
Jake resisted the flirty double-entendre which came to mind, instead taking a more modest tact. “I just like to educate myself about things.” He stared at the floor, feeling stupid, wondering what to say next, afraid he’d bring back that disappointed look again.
“I would go with the herb, if you’re debating the chicken issue.” She motioned to the two rotisseries he had in front of him. “It’s more versatile for leftovers like chicken salad and soups and stuff.” Her cheeks colored, and she looked down. “Unless, of course, you’re not eating alone,” she said quietly.
“I am.” This was a chance to change this. To get to know her. Jake jumped at it. “You hungry? You want to come for dinner?”
The look of horror on her face would have been priceless if it hadn’t been directed at him.
“Um… I don’t think so. I have… um… plans. I’m sorry.” Abruptly, she turned and headed in the other direction. Away from him. Quickly.
“Shit,” Jake muttered under his breath as he watched Miriam scurry away, head down, holding onto her basket with both hands. He hadn’t meant to invite her over to his apartment. Tonight. But that’s exactly how it had sounded when the words had come out of his mouth. He could see where that would be awkward for a woman. You just stop to casually say hello to an acquaintance and the next thing you know he’s inviting you back to his place for dinner and God knows what else.
He used the opportunity of her running from him to examine her backside, realizing he knew exactly what else he wanted with her. He shook himself, hoping to shake away the creepy vibe he seemed to be giving off.
Miriam walked away from Mr. Calahan, nearly ditching her groceries to get out from under his influence. When she realized how immature that was, she managed to pay and leave as quickly as she could, refusing to look anywhere he might be.
She was so embarrassed having feelings, however superficial, for a client. Or in this case, someone they were investigating, who was quite possibly taking part in criminal activities. Miriam wanted to slam her head into the nearest wall. Stupid. What would Simon say? As difficult as the boys could be, she still really wanted to impress them, to do a good job with something besides cooking, cleaning, and paperwork.
But Mr. Calahan had totally checked her out, and it had been different from the bar when he’d ogled her, leering at her, making her feel disgusting. Tonight, he’d truly appreciated her, staring at her face with interest, like she was a real person. If she didn’t know him better, she’d have taken him up on an amended offer for dinner. She wouldn’t go to a veritable stranger’s house, but she might let him take her to the coffee shop across the street.
The fact that he was her mark, and an asshole to boot, deterred her. It was clear he didn’t remember her, which made her wonder if she still had a job. He must have been high or something. Not that he looked high but she had to admit, she wouldn’t know what a high person looked like. Maybe he’d been high now? Jeez, what a weirdo.
But this version of Mr. Calahan was definitely an attractive hottie. Dark hair, blue eyes, full lips, broad shoulders, slim hips, his list of assets was long. It was so strange how the same guy could look so different when taken out of his environment. Although he was dressed differently, too, and hadn’t looked at her like a piece of meat tonight. Odd. Too bad he was stealing money from his retired, fixed-income parents, and an all-around slimy character.
She had to go home and change for work at the bar. Evan had given her a USB drive to do something to Mr. Calahan’s computer that would track his keystrokes so Evan could remotely spy on his activities. And she needed to set up one of the bartenders to be let go so she could get Quinten in there.
She’d had the drive in her pocket the entire time she’d talked to Mr. Calahan. She knew X-ray vision wasn’t a real thing, but Miriam had been so afraid he would somehow know. She was sooo not cut out for this. She was a nervous wreck, sweaty armpits, clammy hands, racing pulse. Or was that because she’d suddenly found Mr. Calahan incredibly attractive?
A text message vibrated on her phone, and she dug it out of her purse to check it.
Quinten: Do you have time to spar today? I need to show you some things.
Miriam sighed. He was the most protective of all the guys, needling himself into her daily life to make sure she was okay. It was irritating, even though she knew it was part of his personality. He even sometimes seemed interested in her romantically, but she knew to nip that in the bud. She didn’t want a relationship with one of the guys from work. Way too messy.
Besides, none of them really made her heart pound.
Sure, they were all sexy, virile, alpha men, but that had never been her style. Vince had had some alpha tendencies, but he was more abusive than anything else. She shied away from any man who tended to want to override her. And she was okay with that.
There was a fine line between sexy, alpha male and overbearing, abusive asshole.
And it made dealing with her co-workers difficult at times.
Quinten was okay, and Miriam had actually opened up to him about Vince a little when she found out he had a law degree. He had done all the paperwork for her divorce and kept everything quiet. She hadn’t told him all the details; Miriam had yet to open up to anyone about that part of her life. It was her own personal hell, and she didn’t want to share it with someone from work. But since he knew a lot of what Vince had done, Quinten had been attentive to Miriam in a way not altogether welcome. Not that it wasn’t flattering. Quinten was a good-looking guy, but he was too protective, demanding, and just not her type.
Miriam saw herself with someone more sensitive, more of an art gallery type, someone who understood her addiction to cheese and wine, someone who would get her. She scoffed to herself, knowing she needed to let go of a lot of baggage before she could be with anybody. She had to get herself first.
Not tonight, but I have time in the morning.
Her text back to Quinten was succinct and true. She had to go into her fake work now, just as soon as she changed clothes. She was pretty sure what she had on wouldn’t cut it.
Fake job or not, she still had to do it or it would be a bust. She had to figure out a way to get Quinten in there working with her. In addition to installing Evan’s software, that was tonight’s mission.
That evening, Miriam realized certain aspects of the job would be difficult, others, not so much. First thing she did was go into the office.
“Mr. Calahan? I need to print some stuff out for inventory. I’d like to take care of that tonight and set up a revolving order with suppliers.” Her plan was to gather as much intel as possible on the workers at the bar so she could figure out who to let go, and inventory was the perfect excuse to do that.
Mr. Calahan was at his desk, clicking the mouse, utterly enraptured with whatever he was looking at. When she spoke, his head snapped to her, his eyes crawling up her body leisurely, hanging out around her tube socks longer than necessary.
“Sure thing,” he drawled at her, eyes still on her fake breasts. She wondered if he was staring because he knew they were socks, or if he was a breast man.
He wore turquoise skinny jeans, which Miriam found repulsive on any man, more so a man his age, and the leather vest again. The casual look he’d had at the grocery store
was gone, and Miriam realized she missed that. He looked so much better in well-fitted jeans and a t-shirt than this odd, biker/skater vibe he had going on here. It was like he was trying to look cool but didn’t know which crowd to appeal to. Oh well, Austin’s motto ‘Keep Austin Weird’ was marketable for a reason.
“I’d also like to have a meeting in a little while, say… eight o’clock? That way the after work customers are mostly gone and the night rush hasn’t come in yet. I’d like to make it a weekly thing.”
“I like your style.” He was still staring at her breasts, and she didn’t know what ‘style’ he referred to. She had worn the same compression bandage/tube top paired with the bolero style jacket for three days. She rolled her eyes, but he didn’t see. He was still staring at her breasts. The leather chair creaked as he stood. “I’ll let the girls know there’s a meeting. Take as long as you need.” He licked his lips, continuing to ogle her, this time her legs. Miriam resolved to start wearing jeans to work. “You’ll be in the supply closet later?”
“Yes, doing inventory,” she emphasized for good measure. Mr. Calahan may get lucky in there frequently, but it wasn’t going to be with her.
A visual of Mr. Calahan from the market, with his shy smile and amused brown eyes kissing her shyly in the closet, heated her insides. His velvety tongue would stoke the flames of desire, not this hard, greedy-eyed version of Mr. Calahan. Yes. The grocery store version would be nice, with his sheepish looks and eagerness to actually know her. Why was he so different here? Wait. What? Miriam shook her head, trying to clear those thoughts. She wasn’t meeting Mr. Calahan in any mood in the supply closet. She was trying to bring him down. Simon had not given the seduction route a firm go-ahead. He was totally against sex at work in any form. She was not going there.
“Whatever,” he snapped before rubbing past her in the closet-sized office. He stalked out the door, leaving her alone to install the software on his computer. It was easy to do, and she had it done in a matter of minutes, so she went on to print out the deliveries for the week and the inventory sheet.
