“A problem?” Junie asked, confused by his question. Was that all he did? Deal with people’s problems all day? Maybe she’d found her way to the wrong department.
“Yes, that’s why you’re here, right? Is it the static atmosphere being created by drilling? Is the ocean by your house less salty?” He never even looked up during the ridiculous line of questioning.
“I’m not sure I follow,” Junie admitted. “I’m here to talk with you about a product I’ve developed. I’m looking to partner with an oil company for more research and then large scale production. I’ve done the majority of the legwork, I’m just looking for an investor to get me over the finish line.”
“Oh,” Hugo said, suddenly sitting up a little straighter in his chair. “You’re not here to talk about the moon?”
“No,” she replied flatly. “I’m here to talk about a product your company should be very interested in investing in. It’s a game-changer.” She opened her easel and placed the first board on it.
His expression changed suddenly as he read the words. “You’re an inventor,” he sighed as though she’d just announced she was a circus clown named Bunko the Bear.
“No,” Junie laughed. “I’m not an inventor really. I wouldn’t say that.” This had been the surprisingly hard part of this journey. She never knew exactly how to explain her role in it. It didn’t feel right to call herself anything formal. Her degree from night school didn’t earn her any fancy initials after her name. Junie saw herself just as she was, a poor kid from a big Irish South Boston family.
“You created or developed something no one else has?” Hugo challenged.
“I guess, but . . .” Junie faltered again. It didn’t help to minimize her importance, but it didn’t sit right with her to embellish either.
Hugo gently banged his hand on his desk as though he were a judge with a gavel. “Then you’re an inventor. Let’s see what you came up with.” He gestured almost absentmindedly as if his expectations were low. The wind had been knocked out of her sails so many times she’d begun to expect it. Hell, the sails had been ripped to shreds. This was it. Her big shot. Hugo had to sit up and pay attention.
Propping a hand on her hip, she glared at him. “You don’t seem very enthused. Do I not match your image of an inventor? Should I have crazy white hair sticking up everywhere and a lab coat? Maybe I should be holding a beaker that’s got some smoke pouring out of it?”
“No,” Hugo said seriously, furrowing his dark brows. “That’s a mad scientist. Completely different than an inventor. I think traditionally inventors are stoic and well put together overall.” He finally cracked a smile, and she couldn’t ignore the two dimples that punctuated his grin. It wasn’t clear if the slow blink of his warm eyes was intentional, meant to lull her in. But it was hard to ignore.
“Weren’t you worried about time?” She tapped her watch, the one her father had given her when she turned fifteen. It hadn’t worked properly for two years but she still put in on every day, feeling naked without it.
“Please continue,” he said with a smirk and a wave of his hand, like a king holding court.
Something about his teasing emboldened her. This was a language she spoke. With five brothers she’d learned quickly that a rude joke or a well-placed zing could be as much of a show of affection as a hug. Insults could be terms of endearment. This smirk plastered on Hugo’s face was meant to encourage and put her at ease.
“I’ve spent years researching mitigation techniques and equipment used after aquatic oil spills. Most of the tools in existence today have been unchanged for years. Technology for all facets of the world is improving at a breakneck pace but not here. Why do you think that is?”
“Because people are too busy upgrading their smartphones and downloading apps to care?”
“No, there are people who care. But the Venn diagram of people who care and people who have money to actually help is just two circles that don’t overlap. I’ve developed a product, and I’d like to partner with an oil company to develop it. You are causing the problem and you have the money to fix it.”
“I’ve had a bit of experience in this area. Historically, oil companies pay out billions in disaster relief,” Hugo countered quickly. “Many times they’re writing checks before they’re even penalized or ordered to do so.”
“Right,” Junie groaned, an argument she’d heard many times before. “And all that money goes to utilizing all the old cleanup techniques and equipment. It lines the pockets of a few of the top cleanup companies. It’s a racket.”
“A racket?” Hugo cocked a brow at her.
“There’s a better way.” Junie drew in a deep breath and tried not to go into fight or flight mode. She didn’t have wings, but she could throw a punch. “We can all do better than this.”
“I agree.” Hugo nodded as if she was finally making an impact.
“If your research and development team got in on the ground floor of my idea, you’d be one of the first in the industry to be proactive in developing better options. Think of the possibilities a well-funded idea could have.”
“Proactive,” Hugo said, pursing his lips and furrowing his thick, dark brows. She’d lost him. If this conversation was a spark, she’d just thrown a bucket of water on it. “That’s where the problem comes in. An oil company investing in a product for spill cleanup is like sending a message to the world that they are fully aware there will be more oil spills. It’s admitting they are the problem to begin with.”
“It’s statistically improbable that there wouldn’t be. Of course there will be more oil spills,” Junie argued passionately. “What’s the point of pretending that’s not true?”
“Public perception.” Hugo looked at least empathetic in his delivery of bad news. “Are we the first company you’ve approached with this?”
“Yes, because West Oil has made a pledge to be transparent and accessible. Your CEO has promised to put the needs of his employees and the public at large before profits. I thought he meant it. You work here; tell me is that just bullshit?” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Swearing may not have been her best play, but she could feel the opportunity shrinking.
“I’m going to be honest with you,” Hugo murmured. “I’ve worked here all of nine hours. I’ve spent the entire day talking to people who think the oil company is to blame for everything from their arthritis to their cable not working. That pledge James West publically made was a dog whistle to every nut job in the country who wanted to find either someone to talk to or someone to blame. Apparently my job is going to be spending ten hours a day humoring them and making sure they leave happy enough to not make a scene.”
“Gee,” Junie sniped. “Thanks for sharing that with me. I’m glad to see I made the list of crazies. It took me days of waiting to get this meeting, and now I find out it’s with a bear with no teeth or claws.”
“That’s not what I said,” Hugo countered. “I have the full authority of the executive team at West Oil to deal with whatever arises.”
“The crazies like me.”
“No,” Hugo said, waving the idea off. “I didn’t mean you. I’m anxious to hear what you are working on. I mean as long as it’s not a magic wand you invented out of tinfoil that can bring oil out of the ocean without having to drill. Because the guy who was here at ten this morning already has the patent request on that.”
“This is a waste of time,” Junie said, gathering up her things and getting ready to storm out. “I don’t need to be patronized. I’m sorry you took a shit job, but that’s not my problem. I’ve put blood, sweat, and tears into this project, and you’re an asshole.”
“Wait,” Hugo said, hopping to his feet. “I’m not trying to be. It’s been a long day on a brand new job, and you’re the last one to come through the door. I’d like to hear what you’ve got.”
“You think West Oil might invest? At least time with their research and development team? Anything is better than nothing at this p
oint.”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his eyes dropping away to the floor. “I barely have the lay of the land here. I wouldn’t assume any oil company would, but who knows. Let’s see what you’ve got and then go from there. It’s the least I can do for being an asshole.”
“I don’t want to rush through this just because you’re tired and pissed off,” she asserted. “Maybe I can come back in the morning so you can give me the time and attention I deserve.” Junie tipped her head back and jutted out her chin. Occasionally the best she could do was fake her confidence until someone was willing to fold to her demands.
“I have a better idea,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Come to dinner and tell me all about it.”
“No,” she bit back angrily. “I will not go to dinner with you just to get you to hear me out. I’m not sure who you think I am or what you think I’m willing to do, but you better get your mind out of the gutter before I smash you in the face.”
His eyes went wide with delight at the fire she was shooting his way. It wasn’t her intention to excite him, but the look drew her in even closer. She was abrasive at times. A fighter. Some men found that to be a turn-off, but judging by Hugo’s amusement, he liked his women strong.
“Then go to dinner with me out of pity. I’ve started a new job in a completely new area and have not a soul in the world to celebrate with. You can pay for your own meal. Pull out your own chair. Nothing intimate at all about it. Then while we’re there we’ll probably end up talking about this anyway right? It’s a win/win.”
She narrowed her eyes and gave him a threatening look. “This is not some kind of date. It’s not some kind of quid pro quo either. My project stands on its own merit. I don’t need to do anything shady to make progress.”
“Of course not. I would never put anyone in that position. I need to eat. You need to eat. We need an hour or two to talk about what you’ve got. You know what this is? Efficiency. We’re killing a couple birds with one stone. Come on. I heard about a great place around the corner.”
“If you get fresh,” Junie warned, “you should know I grew up in a place where you’d get killed just for looking at a person the wrong way. One toe out of line and I can make you wish you were never born. I’m even clever enough to make it look like an accident.”
“Noted,” Hugo said, throwing his arms up disarmingly. “I’m going to walk, you want to go like twenty steps behind me or something?” Before she could answer he laughed. “Actually, never mind. You better be twenty steps in front of me. I don’t want you to have the element of surprise.”
Chapter 3
To Hugo, Junie walking into his office was like the refreshing taste of a lime after the bite and burn of a tequila shot. His first day at West Oil was a blur of nonsensical conversations that sucked the life out of him. It was apparent now why James was willing to pay a fortune to delegate this job. It would be hell. Day after day the line would be long and his patience would be tested. Out of the forty people he talked to, the only one who didn’t make him want to jump out the window was Junie. She was a tall, shapely redhead with a spark in her. She didn’t take shit, and she didn’t back down. If her project was even remotely plausible, he’d be impressed.
“This place is not what I was thinking of for dinner,” she said as she squirmed in her seat. Self-consciously, she attempted to flatten the wrinkles out of her silk shirt. It didn’t fit quite right, and Hugo could tell, wherever she came from, she didn’t wear fancy business clothes all day. This outfit was something she put together on the fly.
“Well I wanted to really celebrate my new job,” Hugo explained. “But I guess it’s a little bit more upscale than I thought. The reviews are great, but it is stuffy and pretentious.”
“Yeah,” she said wide-eyed as she took in the menu. Her gaze was fixed on the right-hand side—where the prices were.
“I actually was thinking on the walk over that I’ll need to expense this meal, if it’s all right with you. I know I said you could pay for your own and you would probably be more comfortable if you did. But we’ll be talking business, and I’ll feel better if we treat this like a business meeting. The last thing I want is anyone thinking this was less than professional. If the company pays, there’s no gray area. It’s just a business dinner. Does that work for you?”
“If you think it’s best,” she said, her shoulders relaxing some. Junie reminded him of a goddess. Strong and beautiful. A smile from her could give you wings; a swipe of her hand could crush you. It was a combination he’d never seen up close. The women he normally dated were convenient. Not really a quality to brag about. They were always available, a phone call away, ready for anything. Outside of that there wasn’t much depth. Junie, however, seemed dangerously deep, as though one missed step could cause him to fall and never get back to his feet.
“But we’ll really need to go over the top. I’m talking appetizers, wine, and dessert. James West strong-armed me into this new position, and I’d like to stick it to him with a big bill tonight. You think we can run up a big tab, just the two of us?”
“It shouldn’t be too hard with these prices,” she said, running her finger over the menu. “How do they get away with charging this for the tiny little portions that just went by? There is an Italian place not far from my house where you can get a plate of chicken parm that barely fits on the table for ten dollars. And it’s damn good.”
“You said you’re from Boston?” Hugo asked, keeping his eyes on the menu and not trying to increase her already self-conscious state. He’d reluctantly grown up in this world. White tablecloths, fancy clothes, and a pension for pretending everything was perfect. Wherever Junie was from, whatever life had made her this perfectly intertwined balance of beauty and power, he was envious of it already.
“I’m born and raised. But not the fun part, the part people plan their vacations to see. I was born in Southie. It’s where they point to on the map and say don’t go there. They’re right. How about you, where are you from?”
“Southern California originally, but I’ve lived everywhere. My father was a politician, and as he climbed the ladder we moved around. But for the last five years I’ve been in New Hampshire. I’ve spent time in Boston though; working with the Barringtons took me there on business often. I liked it.”
“You liked the parts you’re meant to. The history. The sports dynasties. Seafood. That’s the part that lures you in. You have to really look around to see how things actually are.”
“You’ll have to show me sometime.” Hugo nodded to the waiter who filled their water glasses and spared Junie the embarrassment of having to answer to that.
“This job brought you to Texas?” she asked, clearing her throat. “It’s like another planet to me here. Boston is unique, but damn, they weren’t joking about Texas. Are you really prepared to live here?”
“I can’t really claim the job brought me here,” he laughed. “I mean I guess I live here now. It was a bit of a whirlwind. I was working closely with a few businesses up north. I have always jumped around and offered my services to whichever company would pay the highest for me.”
“That’s pretty nomadic. Did you want something more stable? Is that why you took this job?” She mirrored my movements as we both took the cloth napkins and laid them across our laps. Clearly she was nervous, but the conversation seemed to be helping.
“One of the Barrington brothers told me to take a meeting with James West. He said there was an opportunity for me down here that I would want to take advantage of. I figured I’d come down, interview, then head back home and wait to hear. Or maybe, like most of my other jobs, it would be project-based—consulting or something. But James hired me on the spot, and now I need to move here apparently. I’ll probably keep my place up in New Hampshire too. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to put up with this job at West Oil, even if the salary is insane.” At the mention of money, Hugo watched Junie seem to recoil. This was a sore spot. Hugo didn’t judge
people by how much money they had. Maybe everyone else in his family or the circle they traveled in did, but he’d long since learned the value of a person hardly ever linked directly to their bank account. Most times it was the direct opposite.
“Is the job really so bad? I mean it was your first day. It might get better.” Junie pulled her chair in a little closer to the table and accidentally knocked it with her knee. The empty wine glasses wobbled, and they caught them quickly. “Sorry.” She looked mortified.
“You were the only refreshing moment of my day. Otherwise it was a complete train wreck. Most companies wouldn’t give these people the time of day. But West Oil has an image problem, and along with that comes the need to overcorrect. It’s an important part of the rebranding, but it might not be the role for me.”
“Are you good at it?” she asked. It was a simple question but it put him back on his heels some. Hugo didn’t like admitting what he was good at. Being suave and tricky might get the job done but it didn’t make him an admirable man.
“I come from a long line of people who are good at understanding the audience and using that knowledge to their advantage. Great in a crisis. A politician’s son, through and through. I know what my reputation is as I jump from company to company. They want someone who can smooth things over. Someone who can quiet the noise. It’s not a job filled with glory, but I like to hope I’m doing some good. Here, at West Oil, I’m not sure I’ll be doing anything but trying to keep the nuts from going to the local news channel to complain.”
“A politician.” Junie seemed to have a sour taste in her mouth as she said the word. “I always thought politics was all trickery and manipulation,” she said, arching a brow up at him. She was dangerously sexy. Not that she had an ounce of danger in her but that the desire to have her could lead down a treacherous path.
Stormy Attraction Page 2
