by Ivy Raine
Chapter 3
“Hurry up, Susan! I’m gonna be late for work!” Rachel beat on the bathroom door until Susan let her in. She looked around at the soggy mess. “You’re a slob. It’s no wonder you’re still single.”
Susan ran a hand through her fiery mop. “You’re one to talk.”
“At least I’m not a slob,” she said, kicking aside the soaking wet towels. “What time do you have to be at work?”
Susan blinked. “Oh. Didn’t I tell you? I took the day off.”
An internal rage bubbled up and fizzled out just as it reached the surface. How could she be mad at raggedy Ann? “You’re not as dumb as you look.”
Glancing up at the heart-shaped clock, Rachel knew there’d be no time for a fancy do. She swept her mass of black curls up into a smooth twist and pinned it down tight. Within an hour she was guaranteed to have a massive headache.
She was ready for Jake that morning. With her pullover top and her badge held out, there was no way he was getting a free feel. She found it odd that he didn’t even flirt with her, and was even more shocked when he acted like a normal guard and called her Miss.
“What’s up with him?” said Rachel. “Finally get caught?”
“Worse. Old man Stanley’s in town,” Jen whispered. “He’ll be here any time now.”
Rachel had heard the stories about Stanley senior, and it made her glad that she started just after he handed the reigns over to junior.
Bonnie was all abuzz, too. “Can’t wait for him to see what his brat’s done to the place. Maybe he’ll even come back for a while to straighten things out.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Junior seems to know what he’s doing.” Rachel took that jab a little personally since she had a hand in nearly everything he did. “And he’s got a really big client coming in for a meeting today.”
Bonnie sniffed and scrunched up her nose. “What’s on the menu, today?”
“Chinese. The new place.” Rachel caught the sneer on Bonnie’s face. “And, what’s that for?”
“You claim you don’t use this.” Bonnie waved her hands down over her torso. “But you do.”
“Do not!” Rachel fumed. “You could have had this job, you know. It’s not my fault you turned it down.”
“And take direct orders from him? Honey, I diapered him and he shit on me then, but I won’t let him do it now. Now, Senior? That’s a different story.”
Rachel lined up the files for the day. “Sounds like you and senior had a thing.”
Bonnie poured herself a cup of coffee. “Senior had a thing with everyone. He’s nothing like junior, here. You’ll see.”
Junior’s ears must have been burning because he stuck his head out from his office. “Miss Peters. I need you.”
Bonnie turned away to cover her snickering, leaving Rachel with a mouthful of words she desperately wanted to spew out but had to swallow.
“My father’s coming in today.” Junior fumbled with the papers on his desk. “He’ll be joining us for lunch this afternoon.”
Rachel waited, but nothing else came. “And?” she finally said.
He looked up, but not before he hesitated on her chest. “And he’s not been here since I took over, so I want this meeting to go as professionally as possible. Have the files ready, answers already thought out for potential client questions, and above all, please try to remain silent unless spoken to.”
Rachel bit the inside of her mouth. She was practicing his last order and finding it extremely difficult to master.
A tap came at the door. “Come!” Rachel wanted to scream. Junior liked using one word commands and it annoyed the hell out of her.
Bonnie stepped inside. “Mr. Stanley just called and said that he was running late and he’d meet you at the restaurant. He said he may not make it for lunch, but definitely by dessert.”
Junior looked like a living blood pressure gauge, and Rachel could have sworn she saw the vein in his temple subside. “Thank you, Bonnie.”
Rachel was enjoying watching the abnormally cool Mr. Stanley sweating like a pig. Internal sweating, of course. She wasn’t even sure if the man had sweat glands. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. That’s when she felt it. That tiny little tingle swept over her again. First it was the teeth and now the eyes. She’d never really noticed them before because he always had his glasses on, but they were a mesmerizing shade of light gray. Rachel cleared her throat and distracted herself with the notepad in her hands.
“Anything else?” she said.
“Nothing.” He waved her off with his long, slender piano fingers. “Be ready to leave by eleven-thirty.”
Rachel slapped the cover of her notepad shut and hustled out of the room and straight to the ladies room. She looked in the mirror and examined her face. Definitely something wild in the eyes today, she thought. A quick dose of cold water on her hot cheeks made her feel a little better.
Eleven-thirty ticked around faster than she wanted, and before she knew it, Junior was tapping on her desk. “I don’t want to be late, Miss Peters. You’ve had nearly three hours to get your things together.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. She stuffed her laptop in its case and shoved the folders down alongside it. “I think I’ve got everything.”
“Not think. Know. Being certain prevents problems, Miss Peters.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m trying to be understanding, J-.” She stopped and sucked in. That little slip would have been disastrous. She shot a death dart toward Bonnie who sat at her desk convulsing in silence. That endearing moniker started with her and had brushed off on Rachel. She made a vow to wipe the word ‘junior’ from her vocabulary. “However, Mr. Stanley,” she continued, “you’re making me nervous to the point where I’m having heart palpitations.”
Junior took a deep breath and put a hand on her shoulder. “I apologize. That’s the last thing I want to do.” Rachel smiled. “I want this client.” Smile dropped. For a split second she thought he actually cared.
Rachel scolded herself all the way to the restaurant. Why did it bother her? She didn’t really want him to care about her, so it shouldn’t matter to find out he doesn’t. But it does. She hated internal turmoil – especially when there was no obvious reason for it.
The size of the new restaurant temporarily made her lose her ill-paced train of thought. “They went all out with this, didn’t they?” She could smell the egg foo yung already.
“Forty million to build.”
How did he know these things to the point where he could rattle them off that quickly? Sometimes Rachel wondered if he stayed up at night obsessing over business like other men obsess over women.
The waiter led them to a semi-private conference area at the back of the restaurant. The black leather seats were stuffed full and crept high above her head.
“Wow. Real marble.” She tapped her nails on the table top.
“Yes, and I’ve heard the food is authentic – not Americanized.”
“As long as I recognize the ingredients.”
A flurry of movement caught Rachel’s eye and she looked up. At first, her mind didn’t process what she was seeing, but it finally hit her like a stack of law books. George – heading her way. She turned her face away and fumbled with the menu. A sick feeling churned in her stomach. This must be what it feels like to be a cornered animal, she though. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she realized he’d never recognize her without all of the makeup, and as soon as he made his way to his own table, she’d be home free.
“Ryan!”
Junior jumped up from his seat. “Dad! I didn’t expect you quite this soon.”
What just happened? Nothing made sense. George stopped at their table and Junior had him in a love lock. Then the awful truth finally sank in.
“Miss Peters, I’d like you to meet my father, Mr. Stanley.”
George reached out his hand. “Call me George, Miss Peters.”
Rachel slowly ra
ised her face and looked him square in the eye. Nothing happened. Was he just that good of an actor, or had the champagne had a bigger effect on him than she thought?
“Nice to meet you,” she breathed out. Her hand went limp in his.
“Likewise.” He paused and looked at her in a funny little way. “Do I know you, Miss Peters?”
Junior saved the day. “Don’t be silly, Dad. This is my secretary. She’s probably never been farther than city limits.”
George sat down beside her on the booth seat. She wished she’d worn a sweater to cover her chest. One thing he could overlook as coincidence, but when you put two and two together, bam.
“How’s business?” George reached past Rachel to grab a menu. “Pardon me, Miss Peters.” But, it didn’t stop there. He lingered, staring, thinking. “I do know you. What’s your name?”
Rachel looked at Junior and he gave an approving nod. “Miss Peters.”
“No, no, no. Your first name.”
“Rachel.” Junior looked so proud of himself. He actually remembered his insignificant secretary’s name. “She’s been with the company for three years.”
That’s when the awful dawning of the apocalyptic morning rose in George’s eyes – and he handled it beautifully.
“Pretty name.”
Rachel tried to swallow the knot cutting off her oxygen, but it wouldn’t budge. “Thanks,” she squeaked.
“I must’ve been mistaken, Miss Peters. Susan is the young lady I was thinking of.”
With her throat clenched tight, Rachel could do little more than nod.
“How was your evening last night, Dad? Mom said you met some old friends.”
Now it was George’s turn on the hot seat. “Um…well, fine, Ryan.”
Rachel felt two quick taps against her foot. Time for the bail-out. “I hear you’ve been staying in Puerto Rico, Mr. Stanley.”
With his eyes twinkling, George went off into a drawn out descriptive narration of everything from the sand on the beaches down to the type of rice they preferred there.
“Sounds like a great place to visit – with your wife,” she added.
“Or a gal pal,” he interjected.
Junior’s brows went up.
“Not my gal pal, of course. I just meant that it’s a nice place to vacation with a friend. It’s safe. Two girls could go there and…feel safe.” George cleared his throat and buried his nose in the menu. “I think I’ll have egg foo yung. How about you, Miss Peters?”
“My favorite. I’ll have some, too.”
“Too bad you couldn’t have been this agreeable last night,” he mumbled from behind his menu.
Rachel kicked him under the table.
“Did you say something, Dad?” Junior’s BS alert must have been going off, because he had that look in his eye.
“No. I was just reading over the menu. Wasn’t your client supposed to be here by now?”
Junior looked at his shiny, new watch and buffed the face on his coat sleeve. “He’s late – very late. Let me go see if he called and left a message with the desk. If you’ll both excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
As soon as Junior was out of sight, Rachel grabbed George’s arm. “Are you trying to get me fired, George? I thought you were reforming!” She could just kill herself for ever having allowed Susan to drag her to that place. “If you don’t mind, please stop with the innuendo. Your kid’s not stupid, you know.”
The corners of his mouth turned up in an impish grin as he looked her up and down. “Obviously not.” George chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that he’s proven himself to be a human – and a male human, at that. It’s just too bad that you’re bi.”
“George. Pay attention. I – am – not – bi. Got it?”
Raising his hands in defense, George leaned away from her. “You don’t have to hide it. I promise I won’t let Ryan fire you.”
Rachel crossed her arms and scowled at George. “Oh, really? And how would he feel if he found out you were out looking for a cheap hook-up last night?”
“Shhh! Keep your voice down. Do you have any idea what would happen if you told him something like that? You would get fired, and I couldn’t defend you because then my secret would be out. What I did was wrong. What you are is not – as long as it’s right for you, I suppose. Now hush! He’s coming back.”
“He can’t make it. Something about his plane being late and paperwork missing. He won’t be arriving in town until seven or eight this evening. It looks like we’ll be working late again tonight, Miss Peters.” Junior took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the seat. “We may as well kick back and enjoy our lunch.”
She’d never seen Junior without his jacket before. In all the years of working for him, he’d never gone without it. Too bad, thought Rachel as she traced the outline of his biceps with her eyes. Too bad. A moment of temporary horror filled her soul when she realized she was sitting there with a stupid grin on her face. She had to stop. This was Junior – her boss – the inanimate object that had a zero tolerance policy for emotions of any kind.
When the egg foo yung arrived, Rachel barely tasted it, and what she did taste was awful. She looked at George. “Is yours as bad as mine?”
He pushed his food around on his plate. “Don’t know. How bad is yours?”
“Pretty bad.”
Junior motioned to the waiter. “Bring the check, please.”
“Your mother and I are having a dinner party Saturday night, Ryan.”
“Yes,” he said as he fished through his wide array of credit cards. “She mentioned it when I saw her last night.”
George nudged Rachel and winked. “Well, I thought maybe you’d bring Miss Peters with you.”
Stunned, Junior and Rachel looked at each other and then at George.
“Dad. I have to keep my professional and personal life separate.”
“I agree,” Rachel chimed in. “How would this look to the rest of the employees?”
George held up his hands to quiet them. “First of all, Ryan, you don’t have a personal life. When’s the last time you had a date? And you,” he said, turning to Rachel, “what’s a nice girl like you spending your evenings working with your boss? Don’t you have a boyfriend…or something?”
Rachel scowled at George.
“Oh, don’t look so sour, Miss Peters. Besides, it won’t be like a real date. There’ll be business associates there that my son may want to strike a deal with. Bring your notepad along if that makes you feel better, and if you both happen to have a little fun in the process, then great.”
The mention of business instantly piqued Junior’s curiosity. “Who’s going to be there?”
Here we go, thought Rachel. The business brain never turns off. He’s practically being forced to take her on a date and all he’s concerned with is who will be there to further his career.
“Most of the old accounts and possibly a few new ones.” He grinned at Junior. “You don’t think I lay around on the beach twenty-four hours a day, do you? Once you get business in your blood, you can’t get it out.”
Junior glanced at Rachel. “Well?”
She blinked innocently, not willing to play fetch with his one line comments. “Well, what?”
“Would you mind accompanying me to my father’s crazy dinner party?”
Oh, how things repeat themselves over and over again. First Susan and now Junior and Senior. “Oh, I suppose. But I’m getting paid for this, right?”
“Of course you are!” said George.
“I feel like such a guinea pig,” she mumbled as she slid out of the booth.
