by Lynn LaFleur
“A would-be one. Doesn’t everyone write a book at some time or other? Or at least want to?”
Writing had never interested Marci. She spent a lot of time reading in her job, yet had little time to read for pleasure, much less write a book.
“I’m Molly Ross.”
“Marci Bayne.”
“It’s a pleasure to share a table with you, Marci.”
She liked Molly’s friendly personality. She doubted if there were many people who would willingly share a table with a stranger. She nodded toward Molly’s laptop. “What kind of book are you writing?”
“Romance. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”
Molly must be young to still believe in happy endings. Marci had given up on those a long time ago.
“It’s a nice dream,” Molly said. She tore off a chunk of her chocolate muffin and popped it in her mouth. “I know the chances of ever getting published are slim, but slim is better than not at all. While I’m waiting to be rich and famous, I work at Nordstrom.”
“One of my favorite places.”
“I can tell.” Molly looked over Marci’s navy jacket and ivory turtleneck. “You bought your suit there.”
“I’m impressed.”
Molly grinned. “I know our clothes.”
Marci wondered if she could steal Molly for her own company. She could use more intelligent people on her staff.
“Where do you work?” Molly asked.
“Marshall Media.” Marci decided that was enough information for now. She didn’t want to sound as if she were bragging by telling Molly that she ran the company.
She saw Molly’s gaze shift past her shoulder. “Looks like there’s another gal who can’t find a place to sit.”
Marci shifted in her chair so she could see over her shoulder. A tall, voluptuous woman stood next to the counter, a frown on her face as she peered around the room. Her black hair was cut short and very curly. Marci sighed. She loved the woman’s short hair. With her straight, fine hair, Marci had very few options for hairstyles. That’s why she kept it long and either pulled it back in a ponytail or swept it up on top of her head.
She turned back to face Molly. “We have room. Shall we ask her to join us?”
“Sure.” Molly raised her hand to draw the woman’s attention. She smiled and motioned with her finger. “She’s coming this way.”
The woman stepped up to the table. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Molly gestured toward the third chair. “Join us, please.”
“Really? Oh, thank you.” The dark-haired woman sat down and released a sigh. “I can’t believe how crowded it is today. I don’t usually have any trouble getting a table.”
“I don’t either,” Marci said. “Molly graciously let me share her table.”
Molly shrugged. “I don’t mind. The company is nice. I’m Molly Ross.”
“Marci Bayne.”
“Twyla Gardiner.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “Ooh, I love your name. I may use it sometime for a character.”
Twyla threw a confused look at Marci before turning back to Molly. “A character?”
“I’m an aspiring author.” She tapped her laptop with one long pink fingernail. “I come here every morning at seven to write. That gives me almost three hours of peace before I have to be at work.”
Twyla removed the lid from her drink. “Is it noisy at your house?”
“Apartment. My sister lives with me. She likes her music loud. She’s neat and does her share, but I wish she didn’t like heavy metal. Pop is okay. Rock is okay. Metal I can do without.”
Marci silently sipped her coffee. She hadn’t seen her sister in ten years. Their last meeting had been one of the darkest times in Marci’s life. She had no desire for a repeat.
“Where do you work, Twyla?” Molly asked.
“For the Sharber and Neely law firm. I’m secretary for one of the junior partners.”
Molly crinkled her nose. “Sounds boring.”
Instead of being insulted, as Marci expected, Twyla laughed. “It can be. But I suppose every job is boring at times.”
Marci disagreed with that. She loved every aspect of her job. While she had wonderful employees who did their jobs well, including finding new material for movie projects, sometimes Marci couldn’t help diving into a stack of books to try to find the perfect story for a movie. She’d discovered a new author early last year and had turned his first book into a movie that grossed $57 million the first weekend of its release. It was one of Marshall Media’s biggest successes.
Twyla glanced at her watch. “I’d like to stay longer and chitchat, but my boss has a breakfast meeting in about half an hour. Thank you for sharing your table with me.”
“I’m here every morning,” Molly said. “You can share my table any time.”
“I may take you up on that.” She stood and smiled at the two women. “Nice to meet both of you.”
Marci watched Twyla make her way through the crowded tables. She stood close to six feet tall with large breasts that drew the eyes of every man in the room. Twyla didn’t seem to notice the male attention. She didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, but looked straight ahead as she headed for the door.
She would look incredible on the wide screen.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Molly asked.
“Stunning.” Marci looked back at Molly. She saw the shoulder-length red curls, the scattering of freckles across Molly’s nose, the slim figure with small breasts. “So are you.”
Molly released a loud snort as she laughed. “The best I can go for is cute. I’ll never be beautiful like you or Twyla. That’s okay. I accepted that a long time ago.”
She may be young, but Marci thought Molly more mature than many people she knew who were years older.
“My sister Shawna got the red hair and green eyes like I did, but her hair is straight and glossy. Mine frizzes when the humidity rises above twenty percent.”
“Which is most of the time in Seattle.”
“You got it.”
Marci chuckled. The more she talked with Molly, the more she liked her.
She drained her cup and thought about ordering another latte. If she did, she’d be bouncing off the walls all morning. That would make a lousy first impression on her new vice president.
Keefe Donegan had worked for one of the largest media companies in Los Angeles before he decided to move to Seattle. His resume was impressive, plus he came highly recommended. His former boss couldn’t say enough good things about Keefe, according to her Human Resources vice president, Peggy Sharples. Peggy said not only was Keefe intelligent and charming, he was cream-your-panties gorgeous.
Marci didn’t care about his looks. She wanted performance, someone who would put Marshall Media at the top of the entertainment business. Nothing else came close to being as important to her.
She still had an hour before her appointment with Keefe, but she felt antsy to get to her office. Picking up her cup, she wiped off her area with a napkin. “Thanks, Molly. I enjoyed our visit.”
Molly smiled. “Me too. Have a great day.”
Marci dropped her trash in the can by the front door and stepped out into the cool, cloudy morning. It would be a great day. She’d met two women who made her feel comfortable. Twyla wasn’t as outgoing as Molly, but still nice. She worked for the law firm that was only three blocks from the coffee shop, so probably stopped in there often. Molly said she was there every morning to write. Marci didn’t stop at Jennie’s Java every day, but maybe she should. She’d enjoy getting to know the two women better.
* * * * *
Keefe looked at the brass plaque that read Marci Bayne, President in black letters. This would be his first meeting with the woman who ran Marshall Media. He knew little about her, except what he’d squeezed out of Peggy Sharples during his interview.
Marci had worked at the company for fifteen years, slowly moving up the ladder to the top position after the owner died two years ago. She wa
s forty years old and single. He hadn’t found out if she’d always been single or if she’d been married sometime in her life. He had no idea what she looked like, but it didn’t matter. Other than obtaining final approval from Marci Bayne on his projects, he’d have no reason to be around the older woman. That didn’t bother him at all.
Keefe rapped on the door. A soft “Come in” surprised him. He’d expected her voice to be husky and gruff. He pushed and the heavy oak door silently swung open. A view of the Olympic Range through the large plate windows drew his attention first. A small conference table with eight chairs occupied the space on his right. A comfortable seating arrangement with loveseat, two overstuffed chairs, tables and lamps filled the area to his left. Directly in front of him, a lovely blonde woman sat behind a large oak desk. She smiled and rose as he pushed the door closed behind him.
“Hi, Keefe. Welcome to Marshall Media. I’m Marci Bayne.”
She walked toward him, her hand extended. Keefe remembered his manners at the last moment and accepted her hand. He’d been so mesmerized by her blue eyes, all the etiquette his mother had drummed into him flew out the window. “Ms. Bayne. It’s a pleasure.”
Her smile widened. “Marci, please. We’re very informal here.” She gestured toward the seating arrangement. “Let’s get comfortable so we can talk. Would you like coffee or tea?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
He let her lead the way. She chose one of the armchairs and Keefe sat on the end of the loveseat closest to her. He watched her pick up a file from the end table and open it. Her birth certificate might say forty, but she certainly didn’t look it. She looked young and sexy and very desirable.
“I’ve read through your file. Peggy always does a wonderful job hiring the perfect people, but I do like to meet all my employees.” She gazed at something in the file, which Keefe assumed was his personnel record. “You recently moved here from Los Angeles?”
“Yes.”
“Why Seattle?”
Keefe caught himself staring at her. My God, her eyes are the most amazing blue. Combined with her ivory complexion and blonde hair, they’d make any man take more than one look.
Clearing his throat, he casually rested one ankle on the opposite knee. “I came here a few years ago to visit some friends. I liked the area and thought it’d be a great place to live. When I found out about the job opening, I sent Ms. Sharples my resume.”
“Your former boss highly recommended you. Peggy and I both spoke to him on the phone before your first interview with Peggy. He said he’d be sorry to lose you.”
“I had a great job.”
“So why leave it?”
Keefe wondered how honest Marci wanted him to be. He decided it would be best to be completely open with his new boss. “I needed to get away from a former girlfriend.”
“Bad relationship?”
“You could say that.”
He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t push. Keefe appreciated that. He wasn’t ready to talk about the woman he’d thought he would marry.
Marci flipped a page in his file. “Your starting salary is satisfactory? Peggy explained your benefits? If you have any questions or concerns, now is the time to voice them.”
“Everything is great, except Peggy didn’t explain the dress code.”
“We do require you to wear clothes.”
She grinned, and Keefe chuckled. He liked her sense of humor.
Her gaze passed over his body. He’d worn a white dress shirt, new jeans and a short gray jacket. He’d thought about wearing a suit, but the idea of putting on a tie made him gag.
“You look fine. Business casual is what most everyone wears. Friday is very casual. Faded jeans and Reeboks are cool.” Closing the file, she laid it back on the end table. “I have a meeting with all my VPs Monday morning at nine. Sometimes they last ten minutes, sometimes four hours. I let my people do their jobs without interference from me, unless it’s necessary. I’m always available if you need help or think of questions later.”
Keefe nodded to acknowledge her comments.
“There will be travel involved with your position. Do you have a problem with that?”
“I’ll do whatever I need to do to get the job done.”
Her eyes widened slightly and her mouth slackened, as if his answer had surprised her. She quickly glanced away from him. When she looked at him again, her expression was once more neutral.
He wondered what had happened.
“If you change your mind and have something to ask me, please don’t hesitate.”
“I won’t.”
Keefe stood and followed Marci to the door. She held out her hand again. “I hope you’ll be happy here at Marshall Media.”
“I’m sure I will be.”
He took her hand, holding it a few seconds longer than would be professional. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to take the clip out of her hair so he could see the length. He wanted to cradle her face in his hands and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
Keefe hadn’t felt such a strong, instant attraction since he met Jeania. He’d fallen so hard for her, he’d asked her to move in with him after their fourth date. Three years later, she’d not only broken his heart, she’d stomped on the pieces.
He left Marci’s office and headed for the bank of elevators. The lovely president could be very dangerous.
He needed to remember that.
Chapter Two
I’ll do whatever I need to do to get the job done.
That line repeated in Marci’s mind again and again while she tried to work. It had been an innocent statement. She was sure Keefe hadn’t meant for it to sound sexual. But as soon as he said it, an image of rumpled sheets and sweaty bodies had flashed through her mind.
It hadn’t helped her overactive imagination that Keefe had those incredible Black Irish looks. There wasn’t a trace of an accent in his voice, yet his black hair and blue eyes were excellent indicators that his ancestors had come from the Emerald Isle. Of course, the last name Donegan was about as Irish as a name could get.
Keefe had stood about three inches taller than she in her two-inch heels, so must be around five-eleven. The perfect height for dancing, kissing…making love.
Damn the man for being so handsome and having such a great body. He was her employee. Plus he was six years younger than she. Those two things meant he was completely off limits.
Still, she could enjoy looking at him, feel that flutter of desire low in her belly. It had been more months than she could count since a man had affected her so quickly.
Maybe she should fire him before he ever got started. No employee, no problem. She could ignore the age difference long enough for him to fuck her senseless.
With a sigh, Marci turned her chair and stared out the window at the Olympic Range. Mother Nature had blessed Seattle with a sunny day instead of the clouds that usually filled a September sky. Looking at the mountain range helped her relax so she could think. Marshall Media had no rule about employees dating. She knew several of the one hundred people in the company who dated now, or had dated, fallen in love and married. Marci thought that was wonderful.
It was different for her. As president of the company, she couldn’t let her emotions rule her. Gossip ran rampant in an office. She knew that from her affair with Ben Windsor eighteen months ago.
The thought of what he’d done still made her cheeks flame with embarrassment.
A soft knock on her door drew Marci’s attention away from the majestic Olympics. She swiveled her chair around to face her desk. “Come in,” she called.
Peggy Sharples breezed into the room. Marci smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Peggy crooked her finger in a “come here” motion to Marci and headed for the sitting area. “Time for a break.”
Marci made a sweeping gesture across her desk. “Do you see all these piles? I don’t have time for a break.”
“Take one anyway.” Peggy sank into a corner of t
he loveseat. “And bring me a Pepsi.”
Sometimes Marci wondered if Peggy should be the president. She was certainly bossy enough. “Shall I order in donuts too?”
Peggy grinned. “Nah. Too late in the day for donuts. Cookies would work.”
Chuckling, Marci rose from her desk. Only Peggy would tease her boss the way she did. Marci did her best to be kind and friendly to every one of her employees, but she called few of them her friends. She and Peggy had clicked the moment they met. Marci knew whatever she said to Peggy in this room would never be repeated.
She took two cold Pepsis from her small refrigerator and joined Peggy on the loveseat. She slipped off her heels and drew her knees up on the cushion.
Peggy popped the top on her soda. “So, what do you think of your new vice president?”
“I’ll have a better opinion after I see his work.”
Peggy rolled her eyes. “Stop being a president for a minute and be a woman. The man is a hunk. Surely you noticed.”
“His looks don’t matter to me, Peggy. I want performance.”
“I’ll bet his performance is just fine.”
Marci chuckled at her friend’s double entendre. Peggy had married her high school sweetheart and was still madly in love with him after twenty years. “What would William say if he heard you raving about another man’s looks?”
“The day I stop raving about good-looking men is the day there’s nothing for William either.” She drew her knees up on the loveseat, copying Marci’s position. “A woman will melt after one look from Keefe’s eyes. Or spread her legs.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m honest. Don’t tell me you didn’t fantasize for a moment when you met him.”
To keep from commenting to Peggy’s statement, Marci sipped her soda. She should’ve known that wouldn’t keep her friend from jumping to her own conclusions.
“You did fantasize about him!”
“Okay, that’s enough.”
“Were you thinking about him when I came in?”
She was like a dog with a bone, refusing to give up. “You know, you can be replaced.”
