That would be a good place to start, she decided.
Her black pumps clicked on the marble floors. The sound seemed to carry and echo in the cavernous space that loomed above her. When she reached the desk, the tall, slim, attractive brunette smiled a perfect, pearly-white smile. Whoever was in charge of staffing cared about making a good first impression. Behind the brunette there was another sign boasting the name Macintyre Enterprises, making it pretty clear that Macintyre was fond of marking his territory.
From the way the receptionist regarded Pepper, it was also clear that no one got past the gatekeeper without having a reason to be there.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“I’m Pepper Merriweather. I have a three o’clock appointment with...er...in Mr. Macintyre’s office.” It suddenly hit her that she had no idea who she’d be interviewing with—or, for that matter, what type of job she was interviewing for.
Good grief. She needed to get her head in the game. Actually, grief or time to grieve was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now.
The receptionist eyed her, assessing her in that way that women sized up other women. She picked up the phone—a sleek, cordless model—and dialed.
Pepper assumed she’d been called to interview for a position within the Macintyre Family Foundation. Since her degree was in art history and she didn’t know a thing about oil or any of Macintyre’s other holdings, the Foundation was the only thing that made sense. Especially after she’d done her research. The Foundation’s mission statement of family, community and education were all causes for which Pepper had advocated in the past. She especially loved Macintyre’s latest endeavor, partnering with Celebration Memorial to raise money to build a new pediatric surgical wing.
That cause in particular hit close to home. If there had been a hospital that offered the right treatment closer to home when her twin brother, Carson, had had his accident, maybe he would be alive today.
Pepper tried to cut herself some slack because she felt vulnerable. Still, she blinked away the maudlin thoughts because dwelling on it now wouldn’t help anyone. The best thing she could do would be to get out of her own head and heart right now and do something constructive.
As the woman spoke to the person on the other end of the line, Pepper looked around and did her best to calm her nerves and focus on what was ahead of her—the interview.
Despite all the efforts to refocus on the positive, she couldn’t help but wonder why in the world Robert would want to hire her? It was a legitimate question. He would probably ask her why in the interview. She’d be doing herself a disservice if she didn’t have an answer. Sure, she had a proven track record in fund-raising and volunteer efforts, but since the fall of Texas Star, her name wasn’t exactly golden.
Stay positive.
She decided that she would reinforce her fund-raising experience and tell Robert Macintyre exactly why he and Macintyre Enterprises couldn’t do without her.
Wow them with what’s right and maybe he would forget to ask the tough questions. Right. Or delude herself into believing he would.
As she waited for the receptionist to finish on the phone, she glanced around the lobby—the green glow seemed to intensify as the sun shifted. The place reminded her of Oz’s Emerald City.
Robert Macintyre had been so...accessible and down to earth on the plane. When it came down to it, though, would he prove to be more like the great and powerful Oz?
Oh, she wasn’t good at this interview business—the waiting, the judging. But this was practice. Even if she didn’t get this job, it would give her a chance to figure out what she would do differently next time. Number one on the “Don’t Do That” list was kiss the boss before the interview.
She wouldn’t have if she’d known there would be a job interview opportunity around the corner.
Liar! cried a small voice inside her, and she remembered how kissing Robert Macintyre had seemed as inevitable as the tide dancing at the whim of the moon. But that was version one of her new life. Now, as she moved into version two, it was history. She needed to make all necessary adjustments and move on in the right direction—a course that did not include an encore of the kiss, no matter how much her heart begged to differ.
Only new mistakes, she reminded herself.
Only new mistakes.
She was way out of her comfort zone right now. Still, she had no choice but to suck it up and go with it. Learn from it. She hitched her handbag up on her shoulder, adjusted her grip on her folio and then tugged at the hem of her jacket.
She loved the black pencil skirt and single-breasted black jacket she’d chosen to wear today. She pushed aside the thought that black was the color of mourning and reminded herself that the clothes felt good on her body and that should help boost her confidence.
She took a deep, calming breath and placated herself with the thought that at least Agnes Sherwood was on her side and had been even before her father’s death. How about that? AJ’s disapproving, formidable grandma who used to strike the fear of Godzilla in their hearts when they were growing up.
Now, it seemed, Agnes was just about the only one outside of Pepper’s circle of girlfriends who was on her side. Maybe Robert Macintyre was, too? She’d find out soon enough.
The brunette hung up and smiled.
“They’re expecting you,” she confirmed. “Go right on up.”
She handed Pepper a visitor’s pass and directed her to an elevator that carried her up in a straight shot to the executive offices on the twenty-fifth floor.
The doors opened into a space where the vaguely green-tinged glow radiated through more floor-to-ceiling windows. It must have been something in the glass that cast the green glow, Pepper decided. It was the same hue that was found in old-fashioned soda bottles. But since there was nothing old fashioned about this place, maybe it was the essence of Robert Macintyre’s billions that couldn’t be contained. The same decor of marble floors and chrome-accented furniture was carried out in the executive offices, where a young redhead stood waiting for Pepper.
“Ms. Merriweather?”
“Yes.” As the word escaped Pepper’s lips, an irreverent thought crossed her mind: what would the woman have done if Pepper had said no? Would sirens and whistles have wailed? Would a net have dropped over her head or the floor fallen out from under her feet? Somehow that didn’t seem so far-fetched in this state-of-the-art house of glass that housed Macintyre Enterprises. At least the thought lightened her mood.
She wouldn’t dare claim to know the man after a three-hour plane ride and one long, wonderful kiss, but when she’d envisioned Robert in his natural habitat, this was not what she’d pictured. Somehow, it just seemed too typical of all the other Dallas tycoons who jockeyed for power and social position.
Robert Macintyre, social recluse, was supposed to be different. Earthier, more authentic.
“Welcome, Ms. Merriweather. I’m Becca, Mr. Macintyre’s office manager. We spoke on the telephone? Mr. Macintyre will be with you in a moment. In the meantime, please have a seat over there.” Becca pointed to a grouping of sleek white leather-and-chrome furniture arranged in front of one of the walls of windows.
Pepper walked with extra care so that her heels did not click as they had downstairs. She took a seat in a little patch of sunshine streaming in through the windows, and for the first time in a while felt the ice in her bones begin to thaw. Maybe this was a good sign?
She opened her folio and reviewed the notes she’d taken on the Macintyre Family Foundation.
A telephone rang and Becca answered it, glancing in Pepper’s direction as she listened to the voice on the other end. She hung up and walked over to Pepper.
“Mr. Macintyre will see you now. May I take your coat?”
Pepper’s stomach dipped and her first thought was to hang on to her coat like a
warm security blanket, a buffer between Robert and her. But despite the nerves that suddenly kicked up, she thought better of wearing it into his office.
“Yes, thank you.”
Pepper allowed Becca to help her out of her coat. Then, she gathered her purse and folio with extra résumés tucked inside—just in case—and followed the redhead to Robert Merriweather’s door.
He stood when she entered.
“Ms. Merriweather. It’s nice to see you again. May I offer my condolences for your loss. I would’ve been more than happy to reschedule the interview.”
She wasn’t sure what unnerved her the most—the condolences or his calling her Ms. Merriweather? Really?
“Call me Pepper, please. It’s nice to see you, too.” She squinted at him, expecting...something, though she didn’t know what. “I must say this offer for the interview came as quite a surprise.”
Becca was still standing by the door. “Thank you, that will be all,” he said to her.
Becca nodded and left the room. There was a pause, during which Robert seemed to study her, and Pepper wasn’t quite sure whether he’d heard what she’d said before he’d dismissed Becca.
She decided to let him speak first.
“Why do you want to be my personal assistant?” he asked.
“Your what?”
“My personal assistant. Agnes didn’t tell you the details of the job, did she?”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, rewind there, big boy. About that kiss?
Pepper crossed her legs and sat ramrod straight, purposely keeping her tone in check. “Agnes didn’t tell me anything. At least not herself. She relayed a message—that you had a job for me—through her granddaughter.”
Oh, no. She was afraid that she’d come off a little too high and mighty, which might be misinterpreted as angry that he was using this confusing front as a reason to see her again. Or was he? Was this real or personal? Okay. So, he’d said, personal assistant...
“Are you looking for a secretary?” she asked.
“I thought the label secretary was politically incorrect,” he corrected.
“Well, it is, if you say it that way.” She only half regretted her sharp tone.
Thank goodness Robert laughed. “Then I take it that you’re not interested in the job.”
“Hold on there, Mr. Macintyre. I’m confused, and I think you know why. Would you please explain?”
“Only if you’ll call me Rob.”
That disarmed her. Rob. Not Robert. “All right, Rob, please tell me more.”
He pushed back in his chair and steepled his hands on his stomach, regarding her. “My personal assistant left the company several months ago. Since then, my sister, Kathryn, has been serving double duty, helping out as my assistant and growing our Foundation.”
Pepper’s ears pricked up at the mention of the Foundation, but she was still waiting for him to touch on...the way he’d touched her the other night.
“Since we’ve committed to raising the money to fund the children’s pediatric surgical wing at Celebrations Hospital, she needs to be free to focus on that. Which means I need to hire a personal assistant.”
“How personal are we talking?” Pepper asked.
“Not that kind of personal.” His words burned.
He had some nerve. Then again, she’d baited him.
“Well, I’m sure you have others to interview,” she said. “I’m sure you can find someone else who will deliver the exact amount of personal that you’re looking for, because obviously I’m not your woman.”
She cringed and started gathering her things, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“No, I’d say you’re my woman. Because no one else comes with a half-million-dollar incentive.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He blinked, looking for a moment like he’d said the wrong thing. But he recovered quickly. “You don’t know about that either, do you?”
“No, I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Agnes is paying you to hire me?”
“I guess that’s what it boils down to. Although she’s not paying me per se. She’s making a donation to the Foundation.”
Pepper arched a brow at him. Trying hard not to let it show how utterly mortified she was by this under-the-table deal. First, she’d been kissed hard and put away wanting. Now she felt as though she were being bought and sold. Even if it was all in the name of the Foundation, she didn’t like being a pawn in whatever game was playing out between Robert Macintyre and Agnes Sherwood.
“And if I don’t take the job, will you still get your money?”
He shrugged. “Agnes and I didn’t discuss that complication.”
Now her blood was beginning to boil. Not only had they figured they could buy and sell her, but they thought she was so desperate that she’d take any position sight unseen. No talk of salary. No talk of duties. She’d just take whatever they wanted to give her because they seemed to think she couldn’t manage on her own.
“Wow, this is especially degrading.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
“I don’t want people deciding my future without first discussing it with me. I don’t know the first thing about being a personal assistant. I don’t take dictation. I’m not good at having people order me around. And I don’t type. Well, at least not fast.”
She had composed and typed up all her own correspondence for the various committees she’d chaired. She’d never had a personal assistant—even when cash flow hadn’t been an issue.
“I’m sorry you were forced to take me on as a stipulation for Agnes Sherwood’s donation. That’s not right, either.”
“I do what I have to do for the children,” he said.
Good grief, he seemed so smug today, sitting there like he owned the place—well, technically, he did. He wasn’t the same relaxed, jean-clad, cowboy-hat-toting protector he’d been at the airport.
This was obviously a lost cause. She shouldn’t have come today. She shouldn’t have come at all.
“Well, that’s one thing we can agree on,” she said. “The children getting the services they need is what’s important. Your Foundation does good work. Actually, I came in here hopeful that the job you had for me would be there. I think we both know I would make a lousy secretary. But I do hope Agnes will donate to the pediatric wing anyway. Thank you for your time.”
Her hand was on the doorknob when he said her name. She turned back toward him.
“I’m sorry that something so pleasurable has made this meeting so awkward. I wish there was something I could do to make you change your mind.”
The kiss. It all came back to the kiss.
She sighed. “You see, this—this right here? This is exactly the reason companies don’t want employees to get romantically involved. Because when they do and it doesn’t work out, things become awkward. Right now, I’m not sure which I regret more—that this job opportunity didn’t work out or that you and I didn’t.”
Chapter Eight
“Are you an idiot?” Kate yelled.
Yes, he was. A first-class idiot. If that wasn’t giving him too much credit.
Rob thought Kate was going to throw his freshly dry-cleaned tux at him. Frankly, he deserved it. She did pull her arm back and make a rather unladylike growling noise, but she managed to contain herself and neatly lay down the garment bag instead. He thought the incongruity was rather humorous, given that she was dressed in a blue-beaded gown, with her hair done, ready to accompany him to tonight’s gala.
He laughed. “That’s so ladylike, Kate.”
“Aunt Katie, why are you yelling at Daddy?” asked Cody, Rob’s five-year-old son. “Is he in trouble again?”
Keeping his gaze glued to the television, Rob tried no
t to smile as he steered the wheel that was attached to the Wii remote, which controlled the racing video game he was playing with his son.
“You’re darn right he’s in trouble again,” Kate said. “He had the chance to hire a very important lady today, but he let her get away.”
“Why did you let the nice lady get away, Daddy?”
Rob had been asking himself the same question from the moment she’d walked out the door. A strange feeling settled over him, and he shot Kate a dirty look. The virtual car he was steering crashed into a wall. GAME OVER flashed on the screen.
Story of my life.
“Now you’re in tr-tr-tr-...”
When Cody got excited or overly emotional he stuttered. It had been happening since his accident, and it had been made worse when his mother walked out on him.
“It’s okay, buddy, just say the words slowly. You can do it.”
The boy hung his head and slapped the armrests of his wheelchair. “I—I—I. I. Want. To. Say. You’re in trouble.” He calmed down once he got the words out.
“See, you did it, Cody!” Kate cheered.
“That’s not all, Aunt Katie. I want to say he is in t-t-trouble and he l-l-lost.”
“Yes, he did lose, Cody. Big-time.” Kate punctuated her sentence by glaring at Rob. “Do you know what an asset Pepper Merriweather could’ve been to us?” she asked him.
Rob stood and stretched. “She didn’t want the job, okay?”
“Well, why didn’t you do a better job of selling her on it?” Kate insisted.
But what could he have said to her to make her change her mind? She obviously wasn’t interested. He wouldn’t force himself on her.
And that sounded so sexual he had to shake his head to clear the thought. That was exactly why everything about Pepper Merriweather bothered him.
It had been a job interview. He was a professional. So why couldn’t he act like one?
“Actually she wanted your job,” he said in an attempt to refocus and shut his sister up. “Do you want me to call her back and offer it to her?”
Kate smirked at him.
Texas Christmas Page 7
