Daddy's Virgin

by Claire Adams

  "She's always ditching me for work," Stan complained to Amy. "Did you tell her about those wine-tasting tickets?"

  Amy blinked then nodded. "She already turned them down."

  "Of course." Stan sighed. "I guess that's why she's my prodigy. Can't have your successor running off to Napa or Sonoma any chance they get."

  I swatted him after my dazed assistant returned to her desk. "She's going to assume we're having an affair," I said.

  "Exactly," Stan said. "Tasha, darling, you're going to have to learn to play people's assumptions. It's the easiest way to get them to believe what you want."

  I stacked up my reports and headed for the office door. "I'm not sure what I got out of that play. All you did there was give my temp some juicy gossip to spread."

  Stan blocked my way. "Trust me. Now she'll have more respect for you."

  "You mean you," I said.

  "No, you." Stan grinned. "Because she thinks you've got me, and I am quite a catch."

  "You’re quite something," I muttered and tried to move past him.

  Stan sighed. "That's the problem, Tasha. You're too honest to play the game. Don't get me wrong; your honesty has garnered you a lot of respect around here. The only problem with respect is that it keeps you at a distance. People want to know that you're real, that you have your own wants and desires. That you're human."

  I stood up straighter, at least an inch over him in my heels. "I'm inhuman now? I suppose you'd rather I acted like Rainer Maxwell. All dimpled, devilish smiles and no work?"

  "Rainer?" Stan stepped back and bumped my office door closed.

  "Yes," I said. "Rainer. You know, the junior executive you and your cronies let on to my project at the last minute? His charming face is all over the headline news."

  "I know who he is," Stan said. "I'm just surprised to hear you mention him. Men like Rainer don't really seem like your type."

  "No. No, I'm not really into the type who jumps in and takes the credit for someone else's hard work. Just because he likes to flirt with the camera and make little mini-speeches does not mean he's contributed to GroGreen." I clutched my reports tight to my chest.

  Stan reached out and gently laid his hands on my shoulders. "Tasha, honey, everyone knows the hard work you put in on this. Rainer was just a way to make things a little easier on you. You really don't like him?"

  "He kind of reminds me of you," I said.

  Stan laughed at my sharp tone. "I'm going to take that as a compliment for me and him. Now that I think about it, you two would be an unstoppable pair. Like us, if only we'd met when I was younger."

  I shook my head and smiled at him. "Rainer Maxwell is a poor substitute for you."

  "Now you're just trying to make an old man feel good," Stan said. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles over my shoulders.

  "As far as I can tell all Rainer's good for is shaking hands, smiling, and picking up the tab at lunch. On the company credit card, of course," I said.

  Stan lifted his hands and held them up. "Don't look at me; I didn't hire him. I also had nothing to do with letting him onto your project. Admit it, though; you're glad someone else handled the P.R."

  "Maybe," I admitted. "I just don't like being on camera."

  "Shame to hear someone so lovely say that," Stan said.

  "Why didn't you do it this time?" I asked.

  Stan straightened his tie. "Time to pass the torch, let the younger generation take over. Besides, I really do think that you and Rainer would make a great team. You should give him a chance."

  "I will. Today, at the meeting. If he isn't there, then he's missed his chance," I said.

  Stan grinned. "Good. Make him earn it."

  I reached around him and ignored his wider grin as I brushed past him. "Speaking of the meeting, I don't want to be late."

  Stan plucked the stack of reports out of my arms and carried them for me. "Why not be late for once? You're the project leader. Make them all wait."

  Amy glanced up as we walked out of my office. She smiled at me and jumped right up. "Is there anything I should do, Ms. Nichols?"

  "Have you read the binder yet, Amy?" I asked.

  "Uh, no. I guess I can do that," Amy said.

  Stan winked at my temporary assistant. "Be good to yourself, Amy. Listen to Ms. Nichols. You let her train you and the sky’s the limit around here."

  "If I still have a job in an hour," I said.

  Stan laughed. "You really think that's the way this meeting is going to go?"

  "Why? Do you know something? Tell me what you know." I followed Stan so closely we bumped into each other when he stopped.

  "I don't need to tell you anything," Stan said. "Did you create the best product you and your team could make? Yes. Did you listen to all the beta-testers and make sure everything was right? Yes. Then you have nothing to worry about."

  "That's easy for you to say." I tried to pry my reports out of his arms, but Stan held them hostage. "I wouldn't worry either if I had the entire Eastman fortune to back me up."

  "Just say the word, and it's yours," Stan said.

  I swatted his shoulder. "Stop. I have to get to this meeting. What kind of mentor keeps his prodigy from the most important meeting of her year?"

  Stan gave a melodramatic sigh. "And here I thought my party was going to be the most important meeting of your year."

  My insides froze. "What party? Why?"

  Stanislas Eastman lived in one of the most iconic and coveted mansions in Mill Valley. His parties were legendary, partly because he only threw one once in a blue moon, and always for a reason. The last party had been to celebrate his surviving a heart attack. They always had a grim theme to contrast with the sparkling opulence.

  "Don't worry about that now. Just take your invitation, otherwise you'll never get past the gates," Stan said. He nodded to his suit coat pocket.

  I frowned at him, knowing he was up to no good. As soon as I reached into his pocket and felt the heavy, embossed card stock, Stan laughed and sprang away as if I'd tickled him. I snatched the black envelope out of his pocket and held out my hands for my reports. He handed them over, gave me an irresistible wink, and headed off to the elevators.

  "Good luck," he called over his shoulder.

  I felt lucky, as if Stan's charmed life was rubbing off on me, until I reached the corner. I had to remember that a few important details separated my chances from Stan's. First off, he was raised with silver spoons, the best schools, and a path to success paved just for him. That, and he was a male executive in what was still a man's world.

  Maybe the party was for me with its gothic black invitations and ominous flare. GroGreen had cost too much to produce, and I was being fired. I was sure of it. I started to race along the hallway.

  Of course, it was Stan's sense of humor I was dealing with. The funeral-style invitation could contain hearty congratulations for all I knew. Maybe I had cause to celebrate, and my mentor wanted to toast my success.

  I slowed down when I saw James Berger leaning in the door of the conference room. He was trading jokes and barbs with someone inside, and his loud laughter echoed down the hall. I could hear others chuckling as well, though I didn't know how they found him funny. James' suits were always too shiny, his style too flashy, and his stories too over-the-top. He spent money like he hated it and it showed through his desperate attempts to seem worldly as well as wealthy.

  Wealthy was a word for Stanislas Eastman. It implied an air of elegance and charm. James Berger was just rich. His name was synonymous with glitzy parties and ridiculous wastes of money.

  Whatever teasing exchange he'd started, James ended with a gesture that combined the thumbs up and the middle finger. As soon as he stepped beyond the door, I saw his expression drop. He looked tired and unhappy.

  "All right, Tasha, see for yourself. Money might not buy happiness," I whispered to myself.

  The thought stopped me. For the past few years, ever since I had joined Hyperion, I had judged my suc
cess by my bank account. By that standard, James Berger had wild success. It took seeing his change of face to realize that real success had to come from something else.

  James passed me in the hall, his expression brightening to a lascivious smile. "Hey there. New around here?"

  I bit my lip hard and ignored him. The biggest meeting of my career was just steps away, and I wasn't going to let another junior executive get in my way. I marched past him and into the conference room doorway.

  There I froze again. I was so unaccustomed to being late that the full room surprised me. Then surprise turned to dismay. The only open seat was next to Rainer Maxwell. He looked up and his electric-blue eyes locked on to mine. I felt a zing of excitement but told myself it was only the big news about to be revealed. If only I could sit next to anyone else, I might actually enjoy hearing how the product launch went.

  I scanned the room again, but it was standing room only.

  "Tasha, over here." Rainer stood up and gestured to the open seat.

  The whole team glanced up, and I had no choice. My department managers and team members made a path as I scooted around the long conference table towards Rainer. He smiled, and I felt another bloom of heat. I swore I told Amy to turn down the conference room thermostat before the meeting starting. That many people packed into one room made everyone hot.

  Warm, I meant warm. Not hot. Rainer Maxwell was not hot. At least not to me.

  I took a deep breath and tried to stop my babbling thoughts. This was my meeting, and it already looked like I answered to Rainer. I had to make sure to get the upper hand.

  "Here. Looks like this seat is for you," Rainer said. He pulled out the office chair and held out his hand.

  I pulled back my stack of reports and set them down on the long table myself. Dozens of curious eyes watched us. I couldn't believe it. Rainer was using chivalry to take control of the meeting. He looked like the leader, and I was just some girl sitting at his side.

  I ground my teeth. "Thanks," I managed to say in a civil tone.

  I sat down and exhaled a sharp sigh to ward off his warm and inviting scent of spice and leather. My cheeks felt hot but rushing down the hallways was responsible for that. The hard flex of his arm muscles against the soft, tailored wool of his suit coat drew my eyes, and I had to pretend to pluck an invisible speck of lint off my sleeve. His brown hair was so dark that it caught the shine of the conference room lights. Rainer wore it slicked back with some glossy product, and, for a moment, I imagined what his wavy hair would be like if it let loose.

  "Nice to see you again, Ms. Nichols," Rainer said.

  "What? Oh, yes. Thanks, Raymond."

  I held my breath. Rainer had me so tongue-tied that I called him the wrong name! Then Stan's wicked voice whispered in my head, and I relaxed. My slip-up had the perfect effect. All around us, my team members assumed that I had no idea who Rainer Maxwell was. They turned back to the thick packets on the conference room table and resumed their normal conversations. He was no big deal if I didn't know him.

  Rainer's best bet was to pretend he hadn't heard me call him the wrong name. Suddenly, he had to check the messages on his phone. I grabbed a packet from the middle of the conference table and got comfortable. Too bad the dense reports and vague tables swam in and out of my focus.

  He had strong hands. Not the manicured hands of a white collar worker, but the wide, square palms and long fingers of someone capable. The dusting of dark hair only heightened the masculine power. I wondered what those hands would feel like wrapped around my waist.

  "Water?" Rainer asked. He poured me a tall glass with his phone propped on his shoulder.

  I cleared my throat again. "Thanks."

  His bright, blue eyes caught mine and I saw his expression narrow. I hadn't used the wrong name again, and now he was wondering if I knew his real name or not. I should have invited Stan to the meeting; he would have loved it.

  I sipped the water and forced myself to flip a few more pages. The real outcome was buried somewhere in all the figures, but I couldn't make any sense of it. Just like I couldn't understand why the accidental brush of Rainer's thigh made my pulse gallop.

  "By the way, my name is Rainer," he said.

  "Is it? What did I say?" I feigned innocence.

  The man to Rainer's left snickered and elbowed him. "I've never known a woman to get your name wrong. Must be losing it."

  "Please," Rainer said. "We just haven’t had a chance to get properly acquainted."

  I didn't let the side comments derail me. "Have we met before?" I asked Rainer.

  The little lines appeared at the corners of his mouth. He knew what I was doing, but there was no easy way out for him. "I think we've bumped into each other a few times," he said.

  "Must not have been that memorable, eh, Rainer?" another guy down the table chimed in.

  I checked the clock and prayed to God the CFO would start the meeting on time. If I had to sit there and pretend their juvenile locker room talk didn't bother me, I was going to lose it.

  "Don't feel bad, man," the guy next to Rainer said. "No one below the top floor has ever attracted her attention."

  Rainer arched an eyebrow and glanced me over again. "A woman with expensive taste is a lot of work."

  The pre-meeting buzz was loud enough that I could pretend I didn't hear them. I seethed inside but kept my face blank and my eyes on the financial report in front of me.

  "Sounds like a challenge," the far guy said.

  Rainer's eager assistant leaned over his shoulder. "Plan A, sir?" he asked.

  Rainer waved him away. "I don't need a plan."

  "So, you'll attempt it?" The guy next to him rubbed his hands together. "Oh, man, wait until everyone hears you're going to melt the ice queen."

  I conjured up the image of Queen Elizabeth I. She knew the only way to lead was to stay above gossip, so she branded herself the Virgin Queen. It wasn't quite the same as my situation, but it kept me from attacking the childish men around Rainer.

  Rainer himself tried to wave them off. "You know you're talking about your boss, right?"

  "But she's not your boss, and that's the whole point."

  "I've got better things to do. You realize we're at work, don't you?" Rainer asked.

  "You work here?" I asked him before I could stop myself. "I thought maybe you were a spokesperson the PR department hired."

  The young men stifled their laughter, but it came out in childish snorts.

  Rainer glowered at them and then turned to me. He reached out and patted my hand. His eyebrows raised when he felt my nervous jolt. "I think we last ran into each other upstairs," he said.

  No one else knew about the penthouse office or that I sneaked up there when I needed a lift. The smile on Rainer's lips told me he was ready to elaborate if I didn't stop him. "Oh, that's right. At the Vista Cafe. What was your name again?"

  His eyes narrowed, but he answered in an easy, relaxed voice. "Rainer Maxwell, junior executive for the public relations department. I handled your press for you this morning."

  I didn't like that he was already painting himself as a useful member of my team. "Great. I'm glad the script I approved worked out for you."

  Rainer leaned back in his chair. "I added a few bits that I think went over very well," he said. "Not that your script wasn't good, it just wasn't exactly the image Hyperion was hoping for. I'm glad I was able to help out."

  "This morning," I said. I couldn't hide my distaste any longer. "If you know your way around the project reports, you would see that this product has taken well over a year to perfect. We took extra time with the beta-testing to ensure a product that users enjoyed. Everyone here worked very, very hard. So, thanks for jumping in at the last minute, changing a few words around, and really contributing to GroGreen."

  His colleagues were snickering again, and Rainer's expression had gone stiff. He clearly did not appreciate my tirade any more than I liked his presence at my meeting. Luckily, as soon as he op
ened his mouth to retort, the chief financial officer of Hyperion strode through the door and called the meeting to order.

  Chapter Four

  Rainer

  It was exhilarating to be in that jam-packed meeting. With the chief financial officer standing at the head of the long conference table, I had flashbacks to college. It felt just like the time my English literature class had to switch rooms due to a stink bomb going off in the lecture hall. The conversation rippled and flowed so much faster with everyone tight together.

  I should have gone to more classes, I thought.

  Then I remembered why I had skipped so often. Tasha uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again, and a stab of lust hit me hard in the gut. It fit my playboy image, being so easily distracted by a great pair of legs.

  Frankie, the obnoxious social media star sitting directly to my left, noticed my gaze and elbowed me again. "Pretty hot for an ice queen," he whispered.

  I told him to shut his trap, but that only made his grin wider. Word was already traveling around the office via social media that a challenge had been issued. It was ridiculous and juvenile to make bets about women and romantic entanglements, but I had always participated before, and there was no reason to change. My image was working, it had gotten me this far, and I didn't want to lose it now.

  As if I could help myself. Tasha's long leg bounced back and forth just on the edge of my vision. She dressed conservatively, but just the hint of her black high heels had my blood on fire. It was very easy to imagine pursuing Tasha, trailing my fingers up those long, silky legs. I glanced over and she gave me a puckered smile. All I wanted to do was soften those rosy lips with a long, deep kiss.

  I had to look away before I started sweating. I glanced over Frankie's shoulder and saw the notes he was sending out. In his telling, Frankie was the bold challenger who had found someone who might be impossible, even for me. It was flattering, in a way, but I was embarrassed. All around us, the team members were studying their thick packets, really understanding the reports and charts, and all I was good for was a side bet and a little entertainment.

  "Shut it down, Frankie," I said.