“I don’t see anything. I hope you know where you’re — ”
“Here it is.” She traipsed up three stairs to the porch, too relieved to give him the smugness he deserved. She set down her bag and tried the knob. “Batter-fried phooey. It’s locked.”
He set his luggage next to hers. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Not on your life. We need this door to protect us from the snow and wind.”
“I don’t habitually break down doors.” Kirk dug around in his computer case, eventually producing what looked like the illegitimate offspring of a Swiss Army knife and a mad dentist.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” He pulled a slim rod from the back of the knife, selected one of the probe tools, bent to the keyhole, and jiggered it. Within minutes, a snap cut through the wind. Kirk pushed the door open. “After you.”
“Now who’s being smug? Where’d you get the lock picks?” Crossing the threshold, Edie plunged into darkness.
“A misspent youth. Is it warm?”
“Deliciously toasty.” She set down her computer and hunted for a light switch. The empty cabin was actually quite cold, but at least she was out of the wind. Her fingers stuttered over a row of hanger-wire coat hooks, finally landing on a heavy plastic switch. She flipped it and breathed thanks when yellow light flooded the room.
Kirk dragged in the rest of the luggage and shut the door. The howling sliced off. “First things first. Heat.” His smooth baritone dropped loudly into the silence left by the wind.
“And a phone?”
“Why don’t you look for that while I bump the thermostat up from icicle?”
“Okay.” They were in a single great room, one side decorated as a living room, the other as a kitchen. In back, a narrow hallway indicated more cabin. Two facing doors and a curtained opening were hopefully comfortable bedrooms and a bathroom.
Edie felt herself relaxing. The cabin reminded her of vacationing as a girl with her grandparents. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. It might even be nice. Maybe Kirk could also relax in this remote, intimate setting. Maybe a reasonable man lurked under that corporate mask. Her eyes automatically sought him out.
Kirk prowled the room like a loose-limbed lion, hunting the elusive thermostat. Escaped strands of chestnut hair framed his strong cheeks. Expensive wet clothes clung to a large, well-shaped frame. He’d tossed the scarf, revealing a muscular throat.
She shook herself. Phone, phone … An old-fashioned landline cable threaded the back wall. She traced it to a chunky phone atop a stack of milk crates.
“Ah. Here it is.” He was examining a simple dial-style thermostat. She was distracted a moment by his capable hands resetting it.
A furnace kicked in. He grinned at her, the boyish pride shining on his face sending a jolt to her gut. He said, “Oh, you found the phone. Great. Call the office. I’ll have them send us a helicopter. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
Edie’s fingers convulsed on the handset. He couldn’t stand the idea of being stuck with her a moment longer than he absolutely had to.
Well, what did she expect, with all the bickering they did? Did she really think that he’d see this place as a haven too? That he’d relax, toss the corporate manners along with the scarf? “It’s Saturday night. Who’ll be there?”
“My secretary.”
“Figures,” Edie said under her breath. Fine, get it over with. She put the handset to her ear and — no dial tone. She frowned at Kirk. “It’s off.”
He strode across the room, grabbed the phone from her and listened intently. “You’re right.”
“I’m too technologically challenged to know a disconnected phone when I hear one?” Edie stripped off her wet jacket.
“Of course not. Don’t be so touchy.” He cradled the handset. “It’s possible the phone isn’t disconnected, but that the line is down.”
“So? Out of order is out of order.”
“After the storm’s over, a broken line will be repaired. If it is, I can call Ms. Dooley.”
Of course he could. “It’s Saturday night. Tomorrow’s Sunday, for schnitzel’s sake. However long it takes, your faithful secretary will be there to answer?” Woof, she thought.
“She forwards calls to her cell on weekends. Since we’re going to be here a while, why don’t you see if there’s food? I’m going to check the back.” He strode into the hallway.
“Get out of those wet clothes first.” Edie hung her jacket on a wall hook. The sound of spitting air came from the back of the cabin. Lucking fovely, there was another thing she’d have to fix, after finding food. Certainly citizen Pentus Houseus Kirkus would be no help coping with anything rustic. Although he had worker’s hands. She liked his hands. “At least hang up your coat to dry.”
“Not yet.” He emerged from the curtained opening. “I need to go back outside.”
“Why?”
“The water pump is off. And the utility line for the furnace comes in behind that curtain. According to the gauge, we’re almost out of oil.”
Edie’s cheeks tingled with vestiges of cold. “We’ll freeze.”
“In a mountain full of trees? I don’t think so.” Kirk pointed to the living room, where a comfortable potbellied stove stood in the corner.
She perked up instantly. “There’s a pile of logs outside. I’ll get some.”
“Those logs need to be cut and split, useless unless we find an ax. I saw some dead trees. There’ll be brush and broken branches we can use.”
“But you’re wet. You’ll catch cold.” She felt the strangest urge to protect him.
“Exactly. I’m wet already. I won’t get wetter.”
“But I have boots.”
“Edie.” He clasped her shoulders, the heat from his hands fiery in the still-cool room. “Learn to delegate.”
For once, Edie couldn’t think of a thing to say. She let him walk out, the imprint of his hands burning her shoulders.
Chapter Four
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: About me
Ha! I’m a wonderful person :) You said it and you can’t take it back. My self-worth is restored.
And you’re an E.E. like me! I think you must have a balanced head on your shoulders.
Can I ask you a question? A serious question, about a problem at work.
— Prez
Scratching up wood and searching for the well gave Everett too much time to think.
Being stranded wasn’t going to do his career any favors. Bad enough he was out of the office for a week and couldn’t counter the nasty rumors in person. He’d counted on his smartphone, computer, and Ms. Dooley to head off any power plays. Now his faithful secretary stood alone. She was an outstanding assistant but no bastion to weather the deadly storm of corporate infighting.
Too bad it wasn’t Edie standing for him in Denver. She was bastion and offensive battalion all rolled into one.
If Edie were on his side. His mind started down a darker path.
She’d taken getting stranded rather well. Almost happy when the phone didn’t work. Even more damning, she’d delayed them so long that their stranding seemed almost inevitable.
Was it planned?
Someone was trying to drive him out of HHE. He’d thought it was Howell Junior.
But now Everett wondered.
It made uncomfortable sense. She was the company’s best manager. But he worked half his week just trying to keep her out of trouble. She fought him constantly, opposing his decisions and even his right to make them where the employees were concerned. She always seemed to inject her personal brand of mayhem just when it would damage him the most.
Coincidence? Or did her unerring sense of timin
g display a deeper knowledge of the squabbling and infighting of HHE and its ultra-conservative board?
Then Everett laughed. Edie, a corporate shark? No way. She was too honest, her face too open, for her to deceive him that way. Besides, the Edie he knew would never kill a man’s career with suspicion and innuendo.
So who? Everett dropped a load of brush near the cabin and ran a hand through his semi-frozen hair. The latest abuse had happened just this morning.
Everett was getting ready to pick up Edie, trying to decide between a silk set that was snappy and a wool set that was smart. Neither was terribly comfortable, but for some reason he’d wanted to impress her.
Ms. Dooley called. “Problem, Mr. Kirk. The board is not pleased with the state of the finances.”
“Why? The preliminary fourth quarter figures show a profit.”
“The revised reports posted on the company intranet show a loss.”
“What? Where did those come from?”
“I don’t know, sir. I’m only repeating what Mr. Howell said. The son, not the father.”
Junior. There was a prime candidate for Everett’s unknown tormentor. When Howell Senior handed Everett the presidency, Junior had stalked out and never forgiven either of them.
Everett stomped his frozen feet, wincing at a sick crackling sound. Hopefully not his toes. Time to stop worrying about corporate survival and concentrate on physical survival. Edie was counting on him. That was enough wood. The well next. Although they could always drink melted snow, he’d rather be able to flush the toilet. He located the well under the roof of what appeared to be a chicken house and activated the pump.
Then he trudged back to the cabin and picked up a load of wood, crackling the whole way. Not his toes, his shoes. Five hundred dollars of Italian leather down the drain.
Crap.
Then he thought of Edie’s short red curls dusted with snow, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her eyes bright. Waiting for him inside.
Maybe things weren’t so bad, after all.
• • •
“You’re melting all over that wood, Kirk. It’ll never burn that way. Don’t you know anything about fires?” Edie pulled the brush out of Kirk’s dripping arms. She was yelling at him about the wood because shrieking “You’ve been gone too long!” would sound like maybe she’d been worried about him. Which she hadn’t. Though he’d had the nerve to stagger in, face pinched and body half ice like a Kirkcicle. Was the man trying to get sick?
“Being wet is not by choice, Edie. And it’s Everett, remember?”
“Right.” Thought she believed in equality between staff and management, calling Mr. President Kirk by his first name seemed so … intimate. “I checked the cabin for supplies while you were gone.” Way too long. Not shrieking. “Little food. No water. And … ” Talk about intimate. “Only one bedroom.”
“We’ll have water in a bit. I found a well and switched on the pump.”
“Good. Thanks.” She was surprised, assuming she’d be the expert during this little crisis. Maybe he’d be useful after all.
“You’re welcome. We’ll have heat from the wood burner, so let’s save the oil.” Everett spun off the thermostat while Edie stuffed wood into the stove. “All right, let’s see how good that pump is.” In the kitchen, he twisted on the tap. Air and water spat in equal measure. “Should have primed it, damn it.”
“Please don’t swear.” She picked up the long lighter from on top of the stove, clicked it on and stuck it into the depths of the wood.
“Why? What’s wrong with swearing?”
The wood refused to light. “My grandparents taught me swearing is a crutch for the verbally unimaginative. Stupid wet wood.” She looked up. “Speaking of, you should change.”
“Soon. That’s not how you stack wood.” He stopped playing with the sink to come and kneel next to her.
A pleasant scent enveloped her, cedar and pine and warm male. The lighter trembled in her hand. She released the trigger. “Change, Kirk. You must have something dry in that trousseau of yours.”
“Brides have trousseaux. I have luggage. And it’s Everett. Here, let me.” He grabbed a branch and yanked it out of the stove. Wood tumbled onto the floor.
Edie sprang to her feet, pleasant scent driven from her mind. “Now see what you’ve done.”
“It’s okay. You had too much packed in there. Start a fire small.”
“I’ve made fires before.” Camp and bonfires, but wood was wood.
He started diligently snapping off twigs and peeling bark. “Did you check that the flue was open? That’s that lever there.”
She scowled, pulled it. The pipe shuddered with a sharp kawang. “Kirk, I was making the fire fine.”
“Everett.” He stuck his head into the stove. “And you were doing it wrong.”
“Why are you always telling me I’m wrong?” She smacked the stove. It rang satisfyingly around his head.
“Ouch.” He pulled abruptly out. “I’m not always telling you you’re wrong.”
“See, you just did it again. You’re telling me I’m wrong that you’re always telling me I’m wrong.”
Everett pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you always questioning my abilities?”
“I’m not questioning your abilities. I’m questioning your authority.”
“All right, I’ll bite.” His eyes gleamed almost silver in soot-dusted skin. His voice was annoyingly level. “Why do you question my authority?”
“Because being company president doesn’t automatically make you an authority on everything. You’re not VP of Wood Burning Stoves. An MBA from UCLA doesn’t make you … ”
“Edie, my MBA’s from Harvard. Are we having the same discussion?”
“I meant Harvard.” Edie turned away. Had she been arguing with President Everett about making a fire — or with VP Philip over a pregnant woman?
• • •
From the day Philip Sedgwick rescued Edie, he was her hero. He, in turn, patiently tutored her in all aspects of humane management. She idolized him, lifting him to just one notch below her beloved grandparents.
And then he sucker-punched her. All over Aurora Thode.
Aurora wasn’t part of Edie’s team, but she was a colleague, a fellow programmer. Another little guy. No one knew Aurora was sleeping with the boss until her third trimester.
Then it was rather obvious.
Rumors flew about the father’s identity, possibilities ranging from the comptroller to the CEO. The one thing the rumors agreed on was that the father was an executive, and that he’d refused to marry Aurora. Edie didn’t listen to rumors, but she couldn’t help hearing Aurora shouting in the shuttered conference room, or the low patronizing voice answering. Edie couldn’t make out words until Aurora unleashed her ultimatum. “You’d better marry me or I’ll reveal your identity to the whole company!”
She got fired instead.
Everybody went about their business afterward like nothing happened, except they were hushed and their eyes were wide.
Except Edie. She marched righteously into the company president’s office. “Employees have rights!” Mentally, her grandparents were cheering.
The president, Martin Leaderman, was a silver corporatosaur. Philip called him “Leadbottom” behind his back.
Leaderman sat behind a gargantuan cherrywood desk in the middle of a cavernous office. His ergonomic calfskin chair cost more than Edie’s secondhand car.
“It’s none of your business, Ms. Rowan.” Leaderman didn’t even bother looking up from his paperwork.
Edie crossed the room in three angry strides and slapped her hand over his papers. “What you did to Aurora is inexcusable. I’ll report it.”
“Oh?” Leaderman’s cold eyes finally rose to meet hers. “To whom?
”
That stopped her. She’d only thought in terms of confronting Leaderman, not what she’d do if he refused to listen. Who could she report this to? A good trial lawyer. And the Department of Labor … maybe even the Supreme Court. But first, especially, Philip. “Everyone I can. You’re in trouble now, Leadbottom.”
“What did you call me?” Leaderman suffused an angry red. “Get the hell out.”
Edie stalked out. With Philip Sedgwick to support her, she’d right this injustice.
But Philip laughed at her.
“You’re an ass, Edie. Calling him Leadbottom to his face? Dumber than a bag of hammers.”
She chewed her lip. “But you call him that.”
“Not where he can hear me, you fucking idiot.”
Words failed her. Philip always praised her. He was her mentor, her idol. Now she felt two years old. Finally she stuttered, “But what about Aurora? She’s due soon and won’t have health insurance.”
In a cold tone she’d never forget, Philip said, “It was her own damn fault. Stupid bitch.”
“Edie?” Everett’s deep voice cut through her thoughts. “Edie, I wasn’t trying to insult your abilities. But I did a stint in Serenity Rangers International and learned some survival tricks overseas. Watching you stuff that wood in like cartoon dynamite was giving me a headache. So could I build the fire — please?”
Please? Edward Everett Kirk, president and CEO, had said please? She rubbed her eyes and turned.
He stood there in his sodden, expensive clothes that were curiously comic, his silver-blue eyes curiously kind, the tiny scar on his chin making him curiously vulnerable.
She waved in the direction of the stove. “All right.”
He unleashed the killer dimple. While she reeled, he stacked kindling and lit it. Within minutes he had a crackling fire in the stove, feeding bigger pieces in until heat poured into the room.
Edie did not tell him she was impressed.
• • •
“And now I’m going to get out of this wet clothing.” Everett disappeared into the back hallway.
Heart to Heart Page 140
