by Claire Adams
"That can't be right. My reputation's still in the toilet."
"That's part of it," Berger said. "I was sick of having a reputation of all talk and no substance. And I wasn't lying about the getting bored part. I missed work. That's why I blame you and Tasha. She helped you make the transition into real, meaningful work and I was kinda hoping she would do the same for me."
I felt a bright flare of jealous and took a step straight towards Berger. "So, why exactly are you here?"
Berger held up both hands. "Whoa. Just for a job. Actually, I came in only expecting a recommendation, but Tasha decided to take a chance on me. Professionally only."
I eyed him closely and finally uncrossed my arms. "It's just strange you showing up at the awards dinner and now here. And now you're going to work for Tasha?"
"It's not like that. Totally the opposite, in fact. I'm trying to make myself more respectable so I can catch someone else's attention. Not Tasha's. Not like that," Berger explained.
"Tasha was the only one you talked to at the awards dinner.” I was having trouble letting go of my irritation.
Berger scrubbed the back of his neck and tried to explain himself again. "I can see how you might think I'm after Tasha. I mean, I was in a way. I crashed the awards dinner because I didn't know when else I would see her. And I wanted to gauge how she felt about me before I asked for help getting a job."
"And she was receptive?" My voice came out a growl.
"Actually, she was distracted." Berger elbowed me in the ribs. "And it wasn't easy tracking Tasha down. She is a seriously busy woman."
"How did you find out she'd be there?" I asked.
"Well, first I had to find your old, razor-sharp assistant. Topher is one cagey guy," Berger said.
The tension in my shoulders eased as the subject changed. "Are you trying to tell me that Topher let slip his boss' private schedule? I would have thought you'd have better luck swimming from here to Alcatraz."
Berger snorted. "Yeah, it wasn't easy. I think he finally took pity on me. How did you manage to finagle the information out of him?"
"I was invited to that awards dinner." I stood up straight and slipped my hands into my pockets.
"Right, because you make a habit of going to things like that," Berger said. "Just like you have a habit of dropping by old colleague’s new workplaces."
"Don't you have some paperwork to fill out?" I asked Berger.
He gave a triumphant laugh. "Oh, now I'm getting it. I'm here for a job. Why are you visiting our Ms. Nichols?"
"How are we going to know the temperature of the market if I don't check in on the Ice Queen?" I asked. It was a low joke, back to the days at Hyperion when everyone made fun of Tasha behind her back.
Berger did not respond to it with his usual bark of laughter. His smile froze into a crooked line, and suddenly he was much more interested in the nearest cubicle.
I felt my stomach sink down to the floor. During our conversation, Berger had turned me so my back was to Tasha's office. She had looked so busy and so focused as she talked on the phone that I had assumed she'd be staying at her desk. I had also banked on her less-than-thrilled expression when she saw me to buy me a few minutes to think up the perfect thing to say. Something casual but friendly. I had come to her new office to make her realize we could still get along.
Now, I was afraid she had come out of her office just to overhear me talking the same kind of nonsense all the junior executives used to torture her with.
Berger met my eyes, just barely. It was clear that Tasha was directly behind me, but there was no way out of the comment I had made.
"She's behind me, isn't she?" I asked Berger.
He nodded but said nothing.
I sighed. "She heard me sounding like a horse's ass, didn't she?"
"She did," Tasha said.
I spun around, but her expression was too hard to read.
Berger found his voice again. "We were just talking about how far you've come. We didn't make it easy on you, and Rainer was just remembering the awful jokes we used to make. Not even funny. Just bad."
He trailed off, and Topher swooped in to try to salvage the awkward situation. "Mr. Maxwell, so good to see you again. I remember when you used to tell off all your colleagues about how they joked behind Ms. Nichols’ back."
"Are we in junior high school?" Tasha asked.
I laughed, not knowing if she was making fun of us or not. "We are, but not you. I can't even imagine what you must have been like in junior high school: hefty binder full of A+ schoolwork. . ."
I trailed off to silence and stood between Berger and Topher looking sheepish.
Tasha sighed. "I'm sorry to break up this little reunion, but I have a very busy day and there is a lot I need to do before my next meeting."
Topher brightened. "I'll get you a coffee. Her niece was born late last night. Healthy baby girl—"
Tasha held up one hand and cut off her assistant. "A coffee would be nice. Berger, make sure you get those forms back to HR as soon as possible. Rainer, nice to see you again."
"Don't you mean strange?" I asked. "As in, what is he doing just showing up at my office in the middle of a busy day?"
Before Tasha could protest, I caught her by the arm and steered her back into her office. Shutting the door behind me did little to block the curious eyes all around the office, but I knew pulling the curtains would look terrible. Instead, I tried to stand casually at the same time as guarding the door. I didn't want Tasha to leave until I had a chance to talk with her.
"What do you want, Rainer?" Tasha asked. She crossed her arms and the entire office could tell she had no patience left for me at all.
"I just, I just can't stop thinking about you." The truth blurted out on a wave of panic. "And I'm wondering if you managed to get me out of your system because I could really use a few pointers on how to do the same."
Tasha's face almost cracked a rueful smile. "You came all the way here just to remind me of that? Really, Rainer, I'm starting to worry that you have nothing else going on in your life."
"Ouch," I said. "Still, I'm here confessing to you that you are all I think about. How am I supposed to stop that?"
Tasha gave her fishbowl office a glance and then moved around to sit behind her desk. I watched as she carefully folded her hands together before she looked up to answer me. "I think the best thing is to move forward. Don't you?"
"I am moving forward. Work is going great for me, by the way. I mean, I can see that you've moved on to bigger and better things, but I want you to know that your little experiment didn't work for me. I can't get you out of my system."
Tasha gave a frustrated growl at the same time her pleasant smile never faltered. "For God's sake, Rainer, you know there is more to relationships than just sex. Right?"
I caught the back of one of her visitor chairs before I fell over. "Relationship?"
She scowled. "See? Even the word makes you act all funny. That's because all we had was sex. And that's over. And since we never had and never will have a relationship, this conversation is over."
I crossed my arms and refused to leave. "So, what's the difference? What would make a relationship out of this mess?" I asked.
Tasha leaned back in her desk chair and gritted her teeth. "I'm busy here, Rainer. You came to my workplace. Figure out what relationships are on your own time."
"Relationships include lots of time together, seeing the person in different venues, and getting to know what they are like outside the office. Remember the community garden? Your neighborhood? And picnics lunches? We had some good times, Tasha." I leaned both hands on her desk and met her skeptical eyes.
"That was work."
"Fine, would you like to head over to our community garden and have a picnic lunch?" I asked.
Tasha stood up and tugged her tailored suit coat down. "Rainer, I'm working. And if you can't accept the fact that my career is more important than your impromptu idea for a picnic, then you ne
ed to leave right now."
"And what would I have to do to stay?" I asked.
She marched to her door but paused before she opened it. "Here's something you probably don't know about relationships: you have to support the other person. So, you either support my career in full and the time I need to dedicate to it, or you leave me alone."
I strolled right up to Tasha and smiled. "So, we're not just friends then?"
Tasha laughed despite herself, but then she pulled open her glass office door and ushered me out. "There's no 'we.'"
"But there could be," I said.
Even as she shut the glass door in my face, I had hope. The hint of pink on her cheeks and the way she chewed back a smile made me think my trip to her office hadn't been a total disaster.
I headed through the rows of cubicles, reviewing the entire visit in my head. Running into Otto had started things off so well. Even he thought Tasha and I made a great team. Seeing Berger had been a shock and I could easily blame him for throwing me off my game. The truth, though, was that the surge of jealousy I felt had knocked me back. When Berger talked about seeking out Tasha, I had felt every fiber in my body shouting that she should be with me.
Then Tasha had talked about relationships. Sure, it was supposed to just be a way to shut me up, but it actually gave me hope. Maybe there was something I could give Tasha.
I was so elated by that possibility that I didn't see Stan until I almost ran him over. My former boss stood his ground even though I stopped a scant four inches from him.
"Mr. Eastman, it's great to see you again," I said.
Stan looked at my offered hand and pursed his lips. "A word, Rainer?"
"In your office?" I hesitated because I didn't want to push my luck with Tasha.
He looked up and down the glass-walled offices and shook his head. "In here is fine."
I followed Stan towards the elevator lobby. It turned out the only room in Tasha's bright office that didn't have glass walls was the copy room. Stan shut the door firmly behind us.
"Whoa, wait. I respect you a lot, Stan, I really do, but I'm not in the market for one of your mentoring lectures right now," I said.
Stan surprised me with a laugh. "I'm not going to lecture you, Rainer. In fact, I was going to congratulate you on your persistence."
I shook his hand but had no idea what he was talking about. "My persistence? I'm not looking for a job. Is that why you think I'm here?"
"No, son, that's not why I think you're here. Do you even know why you're here?" Stan asked.
"Networking?"
Stan chuckled again. "You know, you remind me an awful lot of me at your age. Incorrigible. Loud-mouthed. Charming. Clueless about everything but how to spin business in your favor."
"I am not loud-mouthed," I said. Then I remembered how Tasha overheard me and I cringed. "All right. So, we're a lot alike. How is this not turning into a mentoring lecture?"
"Think of it more like a rescue mission," Stan said. "I saw your conversation with Tasha. The whole office did."
I crossed my arms. "I don't need rescuing. Or are you talking about rescuing Tasha from me? Am I really so terrible?"
"Ellison Ramsey didn't seem to think so," Stan said.
"I was not ever, nor will I be, engaged to Ellison Ramsey," I said loudly. "In fact, I haven't dated or been out with anyone since—"
Stan raised his eyebrows. "Since?"
"Since working at Hyperion," I finished.
"Son, everyone at Hyperion, and now everyone here, can tell that you can't and won't leave Tasha alone." Stan gave me a comforting chuck on the shoulder. "Now, what I really want to know is what you're going to do about that?"
I frowned at the older man, annoyed that he saw right through me and was amused by what he saw. "So, you want to give me relationship advice?"
"God, no," Stan said. "I've been divorced more times than you've even seen Tasha. All I'm trying to do is to tell you not to give up."
"Tasha all but told me to give up," I said.
Stan sighed. "Of course she did. Tasha's got a lot of territory to defend. Her career means a lot to her and anyone wanting a relationship is really going to have to come to terms with that. And, she's been hurt before, so for her relationships are high risk. You got to make it worth her while."
"I can't bribe someone into falling in love with me." The word 'love' seemed to fill the small copy room.
"Tell you what." Stan rummaged in his suit coat pocket. "The first thing you can do is admit just how much you love Tasha."
"And what's the second thing?" I asked.
Stan handed me a black envelope with silver piping. "You can come to my retirement party. A very exclusive get-together if I do say so myself."
"So, you really are retiring and letting Tasha take over?" I whistled a low note of appreciation. "That's huge. And that's going to be one hell of a party."
"Good," Stan said. "It's settled. You'll come to my retirement party, have the time of your life, and when the time is right, you'll tell Tasha exactly how you feel."
I leaned against the copier to keep from falling to the floor. "I'm going to do what now?"
"You have to show Tasha that you are all in. Make a big scene, let everyone know."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "And what if she hates the public scene? What if she hates me?"
"You're never going to know unless you do it," Stan said.
"You make it sound so easy." I opened the door to the copy room and glanced around cautiously. The last thing I needed was for Tasha to see me sneaking meetings with her mentor. "I'll come to your party, but I'm not making any promises."
"Seriously, Rainer, you should listen to an old man. Besides," Stan followed me out into the elevator lobby, "my lavish retirement party will be a much better backdrop than some restaurant. I think it might actually inspire you."
He clapped me on the back and walked away before I could ask him what exactly he thought I would need the perfect backdrop for.
Chapter Twenty
Rainer Then Tasha
I almost stood up in the limousine, fumbling to pull my phone from my back pocket. My head bumped the ceiling and pushed a fuzzy wave across my hair. I swore out loud while I smoothed my hair back in place. The driver glanced back in concern as he had a dozen times during our short trip. I couldn't sit still, but I forced myself back in my seat.
Deep breathing didn't help.
I looked down at my phone and realized my hands were sweaty. My phone clattered to the floor of the limousine, and the driver looked back again, his forehead furrowed between the eyes. I couldn't blame him. It was the weekend and we were heading to a retirement party. For all he knew, I was in for a long night of flowing champagne, expensive entertainment, and crowds of people in their best dress.
My tuxedo felt too tight, and I tugged at the collar. "Could you turn the air up?" I asked the worried driver.
A blast of cool air hit me just as my phone rang. I saw it was my older brother, Evan, and I left the phone on the floor, glaring at it. I couldn't even handle a short car ride; how was I supposed to put up with my brother?
The screen on my phone went dark, and I tried to breathe some relief. It lasted eight seconds before my phone blared again, and I saw it was my father calling this time.
I scrambled to pick up the phone and retain a little dignity for the driver's sake. "Yes?" I answered.
"Is that any way to answer your phone?" my father asked.
"It could have been worse," I told him.
"Really, Rainer, I had hoped that by now you would know the Maxwell name is something more than the occasional portrayal. This is your life, our legacy—"
I cut my father off there. "This is my life, and I think I've done a damn good job so far."
My father sucked a breath of air through his teeth. "I don't know why you insist on being so difficult."
"Difficult? How about I've done everything you ever asked. The Maxwell imperative has been answered,
unless you don't think my billion-dollar bottom line is good enough." I swiped sweat from my forehead and squirmed in my seat. "Listen, Father, I can't talk now."
"No, you shouldn't talk now," my father barked. "I didn't call to lecture you or any of the half dozen other things I'm sure you accuse me of. I called to give you my blessing."
I leaned back against the leather seat and thought I might be having a heart attack. "I'm sorry, your blessing?"
My father gave a low laugh. "Do you really think I don't keep tabs on my children? I would have been delighted with Ellison Ramsey, but I believe that Tasha Nichols is a better match for you."
"What do you know about Tasha?" I asked.
"I know that despite her parents passing too soon, Tasha is a focused and hard-working woman. I have the utmost respect for a self-made entrepreneur, and she has certainly proven herself to be a success." My father cleared his throat, unused to giving anyone such open praise. "Perhaps she will be an inspiration to you."
"She's more than what you've read in the business section," I snapped. My father's silence slid right under my skin. "Tasha Nichols is not only successful, she's generous, and funny, and grounded, and—"
"You're in love with her." My father finished for me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Maybe we can continue this conversation over a pint of ice cream in our pajamas sometime, but I'm on my way somewhere," I said.
"I know. Give Stan my congratulations on his retirement," my father said. "And good luck, Rainer. I hope she says yes."
My phone went dark and I stared at the reflective screen. I'd gotten a fresh haircut, shaved carefully, and put on a new tuxedo, but I still looked haggard. What if Tasha had actually gotten me out of her system? I could have read all the signs wrong.
"Call for you, sir," my driver said. He put the caller on speaker inside the limousine.
"Where are you?" Berger asked.
I glanced out the window and saw Stan's estate looming up like a glowing skyline all to itself. He lived in a mansion that would have made Gatsby jealous, and the limousine slowed to wait for the immense gates to open. "Pulling into the driveway now," I said.
