Blurring the Lines (Men of the Zodiac)

by Marisa Cleveland

  Margie nodded. “I’ll let Tyler know. Also, I’ll hold all calls and let you know when your eight thirty arrives.”

  “Excellent. Thank you.” Blake entered his corner office, placed his briefcase on the floor, and sank into his chair. Then, he swiveled around and stared out the window. His office faced the south part of the bay. If he had his younger brother, Keith’s, office, overlooking the city, he might be able to see The Fresh Bean building. He frowned. One more thing that needed his attention on his already overloaded plate. Kira’s flyer crinkled in his pocket, and he tossed it into the wooden tray amid the stack of other important items.

  Two pages into the second section of the contract from the city council, a commotion sounded outside his door, but he ignored it. If they needed him, Margie would know to interrupt. A couple more muffled sounds, a sharp clicking of heels on the hardwood floors, and then silence. It was too quiet. With a heavy sigh, he opened the door.

  Darcy, his brother’s secretary, stood with her hand raised to knock. “Blake, Keith would like to speak with you.”

  Regretting yet another disruption, he checked the clock then strode into Keith’s office and shut the door.

  Keith opened a drawer and removed a tie. “Your secretary quit. That’s the tenth one this year.”

  Blake stared at his younger brother. He’d thought she was fine. Why did she go to Keith to quit and not tell him? He sighed. “So, Margie quit. Doesn’t surprise me. I asked her to stay late tonight, and she seemed put out. She knows my schedule.”

  “This doesn’t look good. We need to discuss our image.”

  “You’re twenty-five, VP for a multi-million dollar real estate investment firm, and since you started three years ago, you’ve had the same secretary. Your image is fine.”

  Keith tossed a tabloid across the desk at Blake. New Doesn’t Always Mean Better. The article expounded on the latest endeavor at Whitman-Madison, a shiny, new downtown for Edgewater Bay, and pulled no punches in calling CEO Blake a man concerned only with profit.

  “It wasn’t my image I was concerned about. Between the ten secretaries who’ve quit, the several others you’ve fired, and the reference to us endorsing a throwaway society, we’re developing a reputation for high turnover, like profit is our driving motive.”

  “We have a sterling business reputation. And this deal that you’re hounding me about”—he pointed to the tabloid—“will increase our annual profits by 19%. I think that’ll give our investors something else to talk about.”

  “Agreed, but public image is important, so let’s diffuse the”—Keith made air quotes with his hands, actual friggin’ air quotes—“‘concerned only with the bottom line’ accusation.”

  That sounded like a compliment to him, but Blake knew to pick his arguments. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be sure to make some additional charity appearances. I’ll increase my donations for this quarter.”

  Damn it, how was it that his local barista knew about his Peter Maxx donations, while the tabloids chose to overlook that and play up his more aggressive professional side? All right, he’d up his next contribution to a Lichtenstein. His smile took on a hard edge. “I’ll play nicer for the sake of the press.”

  “And for your next secretary? You know I don’t involve myself in your office, but all joking aside, if we’re not careful, your former employees will band together about workplace conditions, and we’ll wind up with a class action suit on our hands.”

  Keith always had a flare for the dramatics.

  “I adhere with all OSHA requirements.”

  A tiny vein pulsed in his brother’s temple. Good, Blake shouldn’t be the only one with high blood pressure this morning. “Over a dozen secretaries in two years would suggest otherwise.”

  Okay, so a number of his secretaries had left of their own accord, but Blake had been forced to fire several. He’d never risk everything he and his family had worked for by dipping his pen in the company ink. He hadn’t encouraged their advances, and he sure as hell had never acted on them. The whole situation was just so…frustrating.

  He wasn’t so arrogant to think the women genuinely lusted after him. Most of his, um, more amorous hires had seen him for his checkbook, and not much more than that.

  “It’s not my fault they act inappropriately,” he said. “Or that they aren’t willing to invest the time required of the position.”

  “So hire women who don’t want to sleep with you.”

  “It’s not like it’s a prerequisite. They’re hired because they can do the job and then—stuff happens.” He shrugged.

  Keith raked a hand through his hair. “Let’s talk about Margie quitting today. She wasn’t interested in you. She’s married with four children. Care to explain why she called you a tyrant and that a robot had more sensitivity than you?”

  “We pay excellent overtime, and Margie said she was willing to work additional hours when I hired her.”

  “Yes, but overtime for most people means a couple extra hours a week, maybe the occasional Saturday meeting. You had her banking more hours than most of the junior associates in our legal department. Please, just hire a secretary who doesn’t want to sleep with you, who won’t quit in a month, and who likes to work long hours like you. Okay? And no more tabloids.” Keith picked up his phone and muttered more to himself than to Blake. “I’ve got to get a press release drafted about the new medical center we’re building on Palm Street to try and deflect the negative press of this downtown venture.”

  Blake left Keith’s office and returned to his own, sinking into his chair. It aggravated him that his younger brother doled out advice, even if he was right. Blake cursed. Wasn’t he the boss? He picked up the phone to call their recruiter. Cliff answered in half a ring. Now that impressed Blake.

  “I need you to send over a list of potential secretaries.”

  “Again?” Cliff didn’t bother masking his surprise.

  “Find me someone who understands that overtime means more than a couple of hours, and maybe not married with kids or at least someone who’ll comprehend the level of commitment needed for this position. Someone loyal.”

  Cliff snorted. “Sounds like you should hire a dog.”

  Chapter Three

  The elevator doors slid open, and Kira stepped inside, pressing the fourth floor button and ignoring all her insecurities. She could do this. She could confront Blake. Guys like him were workaholic men with tunnel vision, and she’d dated enough of them. If she appealed to his ego first, she could get him to listen.

  She smoothed her skirt and took a deep breath. Blake might refuse to see her. No doubt he’d be in the middle of something important. But she had to remember that her own goal—saving her mom’s legacy—was equally important. That conviction carried her off the elevator and into the open space, where she cut a direct path to her roommate’s office.

  “Tish. I’m here.”

  Her roommate looked up from a file and grinned. “You brought me coffee!”

  Kira shook her head. “No. It’s not for you. Do you think this is a bad idea?”

  Her friend stood and smiled. “Absolutely not, especially since you come with gifts.”

  A hot coffee could hardly be considered a gift, but she’d grabbed it with the intention of giving her a reason to enter his office and place it on the desk. That act alone would buy her a couple of prolonged seconds to plead her case. “What if he’s in the middle of a meeting?”

  “He’s not.” Tish rolled her eyes. “Did you mean what you said on the phone? About wanting to do something more than nothing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, here’s your shot. You’re here. Take it.” She pointed to the corner office at the opposite side of the room. “He’s in there, and his secretary just quit this morning, so no one’s guarding the door.”

  Again? The running joke at the apartment was how many girls Blake overworked or fired for coming on to him, and Kira tensed even more; he’d probably be in a bad mood. She sho
uld come back another day. Maybe wait until he’d hired someone—who could stop her from getting an appointment. No. Tish was right. This was her chance.

  With no one protecting the open door, she took her time walking toward him, studying his bent head and thinking how to best approach him.

  His diplomas were perfectly aligned on the right wall, along with a myriad of other certificates and achievements. Lining the credenza under the wall display were matching framed photos of Blake at various events or with other noteworthy people in the community.

  Good. He took pride in his image. That could work in her favor.

  He must have sensed someone hovering, because his gaze snapped directly to hers. “Kira?” He stood and gestured to the seat across his desk.

  Even from across the room, the piercing sharpness of his eyes caught her in ways she didn’t comprehend. He might be gorgeous, but his was still the handsome public face of the company eager to destroy the old and build brand new. Before she lost her nerve, she held up the coffee cup. “I brought you this. It’s decaf, since I know you’re probably already wired.”

  His dark eyebrows arched. “You came here to bring me a coffee?”

  “Actually no.” She stepped into the office and approached his desk without taking the offered seat. While placing the cup by his right hand, she wondered why she hadn’t decided on an opening line to this discussion. She’d had plenty of time to concoct a speech on her way here, and yet, standing in front of him now, watching him assess her, the right words escaped her. “What a great view.”

  After uncapping the cup, he sipped, closing his eyes and swallowing, a smile curving his lips. As his eyelids opened, his grin widened. “Whatever reason brought you here, thank you. No need to apologize again, but I appreciate the gesture.” He took another sip.

  She stared at the way his mouth covered the lip of the cup. A flowing sound of sexy baritone notes made it challenging to piece together what his words actually meant. Apologize? That’s what he thought?

  “Mr. Whitman, I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to discuss The Bromwell Building and your plans for the revitalized downtown area.”

  That caught him off guard, if she judged the look in his eyes correctly. “Oh?”

  He gestured once more the chair, and she decided it would be impolite to not sit down. She waited for him to sit, and then she took a deep breath. “A true pillar of the community would be celebrating and preserving this section of town and especially the building, not tearing it down.”

  “I don’t disagree.”

  “But you still want to tear it down?”

  “That remains an open conversation between myself and the board.”

  If he seemed surprised that she wanted to discuss it with him now, he didn’t show it. The guy must win big at poker, because she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “I read an article stating your intentions to tear down all the old buildings in favor of creating a more citified downtown.” No need to mention the phone call her father received. In fact, he’d probably take her more seriously if she didn’t mention her father.

  “That’s one plan on the table. But not everything you read in the media is correct.”

  She knew that, but with the way he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her with a grain of annoyance, his strong jaw firm, his aristocratic nose slightly raised, he reminded her of all the entitled jerks from her Northeast prep school. She tightened her mouth into a straight line.

  “Mr. Whitman, the whole street should be preserved as a local historical landmark.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You make a good argument.”

  “Thank you.” She couldn’t tell by his expression whether or not he understood the importance of this to her.

  “Quite the dilemma. Refurbish the old or tear it down and build something new.” He tapped his finger to his lips.

  “I’m invested in keeping the old. My family owns The Bromwell Building. My mother had a vision for its use until she passed away.” Which wouldn’t happen if he had his way.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, and I’d like to help you.”

  Instead of relief at his words, her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t drop her stare. Saying he wanted to help and actually conceding were miles apart. She met his gaze evenly as she replied, “Thank you.”

  As if sensing her rising anger, he shot her a wicked grin, one that gave her the sense her reaction amused him. “I said I wanted to help you.”

  Okay, maybe he wasn’t a double jerk. Just a jerk. A handsome jerk with bedroom eyes and—

  “Kira, are you attracted to me in a sexual manner?”

  Her jaw hinged open with an audible click. “Most certainly not!” Not in any way that would make a difference in this conversation.

  “Excellent. And would you work to save this building—if you could?”

  “Of course. I hardly expect to rely on your good graces. I’ll rally the community, sign petitions, engage the local council and women’s groups.” Maybe, since she intended to take this as far as she needed to, she’d enlist her dad’s connections with the mayor. Blake couldn’t tear down the building if her dad refused to sell, even if the rest of the street wanted to.

  “So you’d invest your personal time during the workday and extra hours after to achieve your goal?”

  She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm. “No. I just stormed into your office unannounced, with no standing appointment, to plead my argument, only to leave here and abandon my plight and my family’s heritage.”

  He chuckled. “So I can surmise that you won’t quit. That you’ll work tirelessly to achieve your goal.”

  “I work tirelessly to achieve all of my goals.” Unfortunately, it sometimes took a bit longer to figure out what those goals were, but she had no doubt about this. Something solid and lasting—a tribute to her mom. So while she’d been searching for a crusade to tackle since leaving her father’s firm so soon after graduating—which accounted for her sporadic volunteer efforts and her inability to find enough time to help out with every organization she wanted to champion—this was one battle she was willing to see through to the end.

  Blake couldn’t take his gaze from Kira, and ever since she’d entered his office, he’d fixated on her thick brown ponytail and white button-down shirt under a gray suit that didn’t quite fit her properly. He sucked back his surprise not just at seeing her again so soon, but also in the way his breathing seemed to increase and slow down at the same time. How the heck did she elicit such a reaction from him? He hadn’t lost his breath over a woman in a decade. Perhaps longer.

  And yet, here he was, staring at the animal-rescue-volunteer-dog-walker who’d reprimanded him for needing a triple shot of espresso. His whole brain lit with quips and comebacks and ways to lure her into his…life.

  The last thing he’d expected was facing Kira in his office with her monologue about saving a building. But in the face of his brother’s morning lecture, an idea formed.

  “So how committed are you?”

  “Very,” she said, her brows drawing together. She was pretty, even when she frowned. This idea forming in his head had disaster written all over it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  “How fast can you type?”

  She stared at him as if he had three heads. “Fast.”

  “Hmmm.”

  He steepled his fingers and leaned back, pleased at the timing of it all. “Interesting. And you’re serious about doing whatever it takes for your cause.”

  This warranted a suspicious look from her. “Yes. Within reason.”

  “I see.”

  She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of his desk. “Do you? Because this happens to be the one time and the one thing that I’m not willing to let go of. I want to save that building.”

  “Perfect.” Her determination encouraged him.

  “You think it’s perfect that I’m not going to let this go?”

  “I find myse
lf in need of a secretary. I’d like to offer that position to you.”

  “I beg your pardon? I didn’t come here to get a job. I came here to warn you. I’m taking this to the next city council meeting. That building should not be demolished. There are plenty of other options for redeveloping downtown.”

  “I don’t disagree.”

  She continued ranting as if she hadn’t heard him. “You know what you are? You’re one of those guys who thinks that I need a job, and that will shut me up. Well, it won’t. Even if I worked for you, and I’d never work for you, I’d still do everything in my power to make sure the building was safe. And while we’re on the subject, I’d make you loosen your purse strings for other community projects, too.”

  Was she for real? A part of him wanted to stand up and ask her if she even recognized the privilege she had in being allowed into his office, but he wasn’t that big of an ass. He’d always had a half-open door policy. Still, it was rare for unannounced visitors to find him with even five minutes to spare, let alone find themselves at a receiving end of a lucrative job offer. And the never work for you flashed a red challenge light he couldn’t ignore. She thought she had him pegged. “Loosen my purse strings? Can’t say that I’ve ever had a purse.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You might think the Peter Maxx donation was magnanimous of you, but I know that, given your projected tax bracket, your chief legal counsel should have banked for a higher deduction.”

  Impressive. And she’d just confirmed his initial assessment that she was smart. How smart, he didn’t care. It was a secretarial position. But she knew how to use her words, and that attracted him more and more. “Be my secretary, and I’ll let you be part of the solution.”

  “No.”

  “Plus, if you agree to stay for one year, I’ll give you twenty percent from my own personal charity allowance to donate how you feel best fits this community’s needs. With the money I plan to allocate, I bet you could save a lot of puppies.”

  Her cheeks pinkened, and her head tilted slightly when she asked, “Why?”

  This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. But he felt compelled. He needed someone passionate and dedicated. He’d just have to keep his physical interest in her at bay. He could do that.