Less Than Three: A Romantic Comedy

by Maggie Dallen

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, are you not going to speak to me for the remainder of your contract? What kind of public speaking lesson is that going to be?”

  “I will speak to you when my job requires it, nothing more and nothing less.” She sounded like a bratty child, even to her own ears.

  He sat there watching her with those gorgeous green eyes. It was impossible to read what he was thinking, and she could only hope that her poker face was half as good. She could hear the seconds tick by on the clock behind the unmanned desk, keeping time with the hammer that was pounding her temples. They’d been told they would be taking off within the hour, and so far she felt as though they’d been stuck in that little room for days.

  “Don’t you want to know why I called your boss and requested that you stay on this job?”

  She pursed her lips. She did want to know. Of course she did. But she refused to give him the satisfaction.

  “Don’t you want to know why I didn’t tell you that I’m your boss?”

  “You’re not my boss,” she snapped. “You’re my client. The company I work for is my employer; you are merely another job.”

  I’m such a fraud. I have no idea why they hired me in the first place. She heard her words from the night before reverberating in her skull. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut for once in her life?

  If Alex was remembering her admissions of ignorance and failure, he didn’t let on. He ran a hand through his annoyingly perfect hair. How was it that he still looked perfect while she felt like she’d been run over by a truck? She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that she looked just as bad as she felt.

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  He leaned forward in his chair and looked straight into her eyes. “That’s the reason I didn’t tell you right away that I’m Lawrence Newsom. I didn’t want you to treat me like the client. I didn’t want to be ‘Mr. Newsom’ last night. I just wanted to be Alex and hang out with the beautiful, funny woman I was lucky enough to be stranded with. And that started before I knew you were the one calling me.”

  Lacey felt her cheeks warming from the compliment and made a point of studying her hands in her lap. She would not cave that easily. He had lied to her and let her sleep with him knowing that she didn’t know the truth.

  He let out a heavy sigh. “I know that’s not a good excuse. But you’ve got to admit, you would never have let your guard down if you’d known who I was.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “I would never have acted like that if I’d known.”

  He had the good grace to look ashamed. “I know. I’m sorry. I did intend to tell you. My full name and about the calls. I just—I just—”

  Whatever excuse he was about to give was cut off by an airport employee who poked his head into the office and signaled to Alex that he was needed. He left, and Lacey found herself staring after him like a puppy dog as she waited all alone.

  She found herself trying to complete Alex’s unfinished sentence. Why didn’t he tell her? Did he forget? Was he too drunk to care? Had he been so caught up by the incredible sexual tension that he couldn’t remember his own name?

  Not that his explanations would have made anything better but she was curious to see how he’d try to rationalize his terrible behavior.

  Not that he could.

  But she really wanted to see him try.

  Chapter Three

  ALEX WAS RELIEVED to be sitting in the cockpit next to his co-pilot, where he was mercifully out of eyeshot of Lacey’s brutal glare.

  He’d made women angry before, but he’d never felt like this. Maybe because he’d never acted like this before. From the moment he woke this morning, he’d felt the cold teeth of guilt gnawing at his insides.

  What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been thinking, not with his brain. He’d never meant to let it get that far. But he was having so much fun, and he’d known what would happen if he’d come clean. The longer he’d waited, the harder it was to own up to the truth. He’d told himself he’d tell her in the morning.

  He grimaced at the memory of her expression when she’d discovered his true identity. He never wanted to see that look again.

  He couldn’t let her leave like that. He’d had to make things right. So he’d done what his father and grandfather would have done—he’d abused his power as the head of a Fortune 500 company and all but demanded she stay on the job. And be by his side for the next two weeks.

  Oh, he was most certainly going to hell for this one.

  Not that he was the only guilty party here. He had to remind himself for the millionth time that the ring on her finger was no cereal box prize. What had she said when he’d called her on it? It’s complicated. Riiight.

  Complicated or not, she was wearing another man’s ring. Another dose of guilt for him but nothing compared to what she must be feeling—unless she was a cold-hearted bitch. He remembered the way her eyes lit up with laughter as she poked fun at herself. No, he couldn’t believe she could ever be cruel. So maybe some of her fury was because she was mad at herself? He flinched again at the memory of that look.

  Maybe not.

  The flight from Chicago to New York City was smooth and he never heard a peep from his angry passenger. He hoped she was sleeping it off. Maybe she’d wake up in a better mood. Unlikely, but a guy could hope.

  By the time he’d finished with his business and disembarked, Lacey had already left the plane and gotten into the limo which was now waiting for him. He opened the passenger door and slid into the seat across from her.

  “Hello again.” He flashed her a smile he’d been told was charming. Irresistible even. All he got in return was a withering glare. Her wild blond curls were pulled into a neat bun, and she looked more gorgeous than ever.

  He saw her wince when he slammed the door shut and smothered a grin. He cleared his throat to speak, still not entirely certain how he was going to talk his way out of this mess, but he was determined to try. She was beautiful, smart and quite possibly the most enchanting woman he’d ever met. There was no way he could live with himself without at least explaining his behavior. He hated the very idea that she thought of him as a duplicitous, entitled ass. And how could she not after the way he’d acted? At the very least, he had to ask for her forgiveness. But before he could even open his mouth, she had tipped her head to the side and closed her eyes. It looked for all the world as though she were fast asleep.

  Several seconds went by as he watched her, his mouth still open, ready to speak. But how could he wake her? She looked so goddamn beautiful and innocent when she was sleeping. Anytime she wasn’t glaring at him, really.

  They reached the hotel in record time. Her head snapped up the moment they came to a stop, leaving him to wonder if she’d been sleeping at all or if she’d just been pretending to avoid speaking to him. That thought made his jaw clench. He’d never been able to pass up a challenge.

  “So I’ll be seeing you later this afternoon then?” he said as she attempted to slide gracefully out the door. Not an easy feat in a slim cut skirt and heels.

  She looked to him, seemingly surprised that he’d spoken to her. Well she’d better get used to it. They were going to be working together side by side for the next two weeks. The thought made him inexplicably happy.

  “Shall I send the car for you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Don’t bother, I can walk. I’ll just drop off my things and freshen up, and I’ll meet you there.”

  He had to hand it to her. For someone who had just been through all the ups and downs she had been through over the past twelve hours, she was remarkably composed. Almost too composed. Where was the furious spitfire he’d seen this morning? Where was the funny, carefree recent college grad from the night before? Or the passionate, sexy young woman from last night?

  Alex leaned in his seat with a
grin. So far he’d seen four different sides of his new consultant, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out which one he liked best.

  Lacey took her time settling into the hotel and getting ready for the office. She was in no rush to see Alex again, let alone face the daunting first day at a new job. And not just any new job—this would be the biggest client she’d worked with yet and the first that she’d handled on her own. She’d spent the first few jobs shadowing Rick, absorbing every detail of the way he acted around his clients. She’d learned all of the course materials during intensive training sessions, but the shadowing portion of her training was far more valuable. Anyone could memorize the course material—the hard part was learning how to act. How to handle the mark, as Rick like to call them. Through watching her boss, she’d tried to figure out how to act—no to be—confident, yet understanding; tough but pleasant. It was all about building up the client’s ego while calling out their biggest flaws.

  It was a tightrope act, and there was no one better than Rick. “Make the mark feel confident and in control,” Rick would tell her.

  Confident and controlling, that shouldn’t be a problem with Alex.

  The mere thought of his name brought an image of his gorgeous eyes and that sexy smile. Those hard, toned abs. And his hands. Holy cow, those hands. Large, rough and calloused, unlike her ex’s. Ethan was a wannabe artist who’d never done a day of hard work in his life. After years of bartending and waitressing, her hands had felt like Brillo pads next to his.

  Alex on the other hand—he had manly man hands, if that was even a thing. And he knew how to use them. A jolt of jealousy shot through her as she wondered how many women he must have slept with to have such skillful hands.

  She added a final bobby pin to her hair to keep it in place and studied her reflection. In a well-tailored skirt suit and sensible heels, she looked the part of a successful executive, but she couldn’t help feeling like she was on her way to audition for a role in a courtroom drama. She felt ridiculous.

  It had been more than six months since she’d quit her job at O’Reilly’s Pub but it felt like yesterday. She could only imagine the remarks she’d get from the regulars and the guys in the kitchen if she walked into the bar looking like this. They probably wouldn’t recognize her without a well-worn T-shirt and a messy ponytail.

  But this was who she was now, she reminded herself. For the time being at least. Until she got fired.

  No. She would not go down that path. She refused to psyche herself out right before walking into the lion’s den.

  She squared her shoulders and raised her chin and tried out a deadly serious stare in the mirror. That was the look she’d use on Alex when she gave him the speech.

  She’d come up what she was going to say during the flight and rehearsed it on the seemingly endless drive from the airport to the hotel. Now she could rattle it off in her sleep.

  She planned on being calm but firm as she explained that while she might not like him personally and that she abhorred his actions, she was there to perform a service, and she would see it through with the utmost professionalism. And that she expected him to do the same. Their interaction over the next two weeks would be business, nothing more and nothing less.

  The walk from the hotel to the office was annoyingly short. Lacey had been looking forward to a nice refreshing stroll to clear her head and get her game face ready. But three short blocks later she found herself gazing up in awe at the glass and steel skyscraper that housed Newsom Industries. She swallowed a familiar wave of nausea and strode through the giant glass doors of the airy, plant-filled lobby.

  She was absurdly self-conscious of the loud clicking of her heels on the linoleum floor as she approached the security desk. She gave her name and ID to a burly security guard, and he picked up a phone and dialed a number. He muttered a few words, hung up and told her, “Ms. Bernstein will be down in a minute.”

  Several minutes later a lanky brunette in her early thirties strode toward her in the lobby with her hand outstretched. “You must be Lacey Ames. I’m Dawn, Mr. Newsom’s assistant.”

  Dawn’s smile was genuine, and she seemed completely comfortable in her skin. Lacey liked her. More than that, she sensed she’d found an ally.

  “Mr. Newsom is waiting for you, so I’ll take you to him first and then we’ll sort out your security clearance and company ID later.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, and Lacey summoned an agreeable smile. Her mind was still stuck on one thing. She followed Dawn into an elevator and asked, “When you say you’re Mr. Newsom’s assistant, are you referring to Lawrence Newsom senior or—“

  “Oh, yes. Sorry, I should have clarified. I work for Lawrence Newsom senior, and he wants to meet you first. Then you’ll be meeting with Alex—er, Lawrence Newsom the third. Everyone but his grandfather just calls him Alex.”

  Well, at least that was one thing he hadn’t lied about.

  The elevator silently rushed them to the top floor and opened with a ding. Lacey swallowed a flurry of butterflies that attempted to exit her stomach as she followed Dawn through a tastefully decorated lobby with a plush Oriental carpet and a smiley receptionist whose greeting was almost too perky.

  “Welcome to Newsom Industries, Miss Ames.” The girl could not have been much younger than Lacey, but there was something about her wide eyes and bubbly personality that made her seem like a teenager.

  She smiled at the friendly girl before following Dawn further into the office and down hushed hallways with glass walls. She passed office after office, glancing in at the employees like they were animals at the zoo. She kept waiting to see Alex behind one of these desks, but his office must have been in a different area.

  At the end of the hallway, Dawn ushered her into a large conference room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just let Mr. Newsom know you’re here.”

  Lacey kept herself busy by pouring a glass of water from the pitcher at the head of the table and perusing the magazines that were laid out on a counter nearby. So the grandfather—the grand poobah himself—wanted to see her. That was oddly encouraging. Having met Alex, it was hard to imagine just why he would need a public speaking coach. He was so not the timid, self-conscious type.

  But now it made sense. Her being here was his grandfather’s idea. A little added security that his grandson would succeed. She might be new to the business world but paranoid, overprotective family members were her forte.

  All she had to do was give Alex a bit of gentle prepping—the standard “keep eye contact and don’t say the word um” speech—and reassure his nervous grandfather that it would all be okay.

  Easy peasy. If she played her cards right, there was every possibility she would be on the next flight home to celebrate her success with her best friend and then head off to her new assignment.

  “So you’re the woman who’s going to transform my grandson into a leader.”

  Lawrence Newsom’s booming voice seemed to echo off the walls. She spun around to find herself face to face with an older version of Alex. Though he sported wrinkles and gray hair, the old man had the same piercing green eyes and the sharp features of a Roman soldier.

  “Hello, Mr. Newsom. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  He lowered his eyebrows as he took in her appearance. “You look awfully young.”

  The look he was giving her now was nothing short of a challenge. He doubted her abilities. He didn’t think she was the right person for this job. Understandably. She was young, inexperienced and had absolutely no right telling anyone what type of cereal they should be eating let alone how they should address their board of directors.

  But this was her job. And Lacey had never backed down from a challenge.

  She lifted her chin and gave the older man her best poker face. “I may be young, Mr. Newsom, but I know what I’m doing.”

  His challenging stare lost a bit of its aggressiveness. Clearly he hadn’t expected her to have a backbone. “Your employers did say
you’ve had quite a bit of success so far. How long have you been working as a consultant, Miss Ames?”

  “Long enough to understand that what you really want to know is whether or not I can deliver results.” She noted the old man’s surprise with satisfaction. It was one thing for her to doubt herself and to feel incompetent but she absolutely hated it when anyone else hinted that she might not be up to a task.

  “All of the consultants at Ackland have been well trained in the company’s methods. I’m sure a man such as yourself did his homework before hiring us. You must know the kind of results you can expect.”

  Mr. Newsom nodded in acknowledgment and pulled out a seat. It was only as she watched him slowly struggle into the chair that she remembered she was speaking to a man who was well past his prime.

  He gestured for her to take a seat across from him. “You’re right, Miss Ames, I’ve done my research. I’ve heard all about your company’s failproof methods. But I have a hard time believing that my grandson will fall into the same category as every other client you and your colleagues have worked with in the past.”

  “No, of course not. Each client is different. Our methods vary depending on the individual’s circumstances but we always—“

  “Have you met my grandson?”

  “Yes, sir. He was the pilot for my flight out here.”

  The older man nodded as though she’d just told him more than she knew. She felt heat creeping into her cheeks at the memory of the night before and ordered her mind to stop before she gave herself away.

  “Of course he was flying,” the old man muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing, nothing. Tell me, how does all of this work? Where do we start?”

  “We start every client off with the same initial review so I can get a good feel for what kind of work needs to be done. I’ll film your grandson as he gives a short speech in front of a small group of friends and colleagues.”

  She could see Mr. Newsom about to interject and hurried on. “I’ll then review the footage with your grandson so we can go over what he needs to work on. After this initial review, I will confer with my colleagues to custom-tailor Alex’s training program.”