Her stomach somersaulted. So he expected her to have figured it out. He expected her to have already packed her things and vacated the premises.
Before she could reply, he stood and leaned over her desk. ‘These are plans of one of Marston’s plants. Wade said you had these.’
She nodded and rubbed her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see that he gets them back.’
‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’
She shook her head.
‘Jesus, Dee, do you even know what day it is?’
Before she could answer, he grabbed her computer bag from beside her desk and slapped it down in front of her. ‘Enough! Put all that stuff in here, right now. That’s good. All of it. And the BlackBerry. Turn it off. Now put it in your bag.’
She started to protest.
He placed a finger to his lips to silence her. ‘You’re no good to me if you can’t function.’
Then this was definitely it. He was seeing her to the door just to make sure she figured it out. She swallowed hard, pulled the Scribal file back out of the computer bag, and laid it on her desk.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Leaving this for Tally. I figure you’ll put her in charge until you find – a replacement.’
‘A replacement?’ He grabbed the folder and stuffed it back in her bag. ‘For what? Why would I want Tally to see this?’
‘Then you’re not … I mean, I thought …’ Her voice cracked and she blinked back tears.
‘I’m sending you home for the night – what’s left of it – so you’ll be worth a damn tomorrow.’ He helped her on with her jacket, grabbed her computer bag, and guided her out of the office toward the elevator. ‘You’re not fit to drive.’
‘I’m OK, really I am.’
He ignored her protests and punched a quick message into his BlackBerry as they entered the elevator. When they exited into the parking garage, she pulled her keys from her bag and turned toward her car, but he grabbed her arm, took the keys from her hand, and stuffed them in the pocket of his jacket. ‘I said you’re not fit to drive.’ He motioned her to a waiting limo. ‘Jeffries will drop you off on our way.’
‘But tomorrow –’
‘Jeffries will pick you up, and not one minute before eight o’clock. Are we clear?’
‘We’re clear.’
The driver opened the rear door for her while Ellis let himself in the other side and set her computer bag on the floor next to his leg.
‘Does he know where I live?’
‘He knows,’ Ellis said.
‘But I –’
‘Dee, it’s sorted.’ The limo exited the pale light of the parking garage onto the darkened street. Once they were on the freeway, she reached for her computer.
‘Leave it,’ he ordered. ‘It stays with me. It’ll be in the limo waiting for you tomorrow morning. You’re going home to sleep.’
She could feel his frequent glances in the dark, weighty, almost physical, like Ellis’s presence filled up all the space between them and pressed up against her in the quiet interior of the limo. And she didn’t know why, but she felt relieved of some burden she hadn’t known she was carrying.
When, at last, he spoke again, his voice was softer, warmer than it had been since that first night in the lounge of his office. ‘It never all gets done, Dee. Never. And the naïve, arrogant notion that you’re going to be the first to manage it is insane. It’s a hard lesson. Best learn it now and save your sanity. And mine.’ Before she could reply, he continued. ‘By the way, Wade tore me a new one for my mishandling of your situation today. Seems I owe you an apology.’ He raised a hand to thwart her response. ‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we get to your house.’
It wasn’t his intention to watch her sleep. In truth, he could barely see her in the light of his BlackBerry while he attempted to answer emails, but he found himself glancing at her nonetheless. And he assured himself the glances would have sufficed had she not called his name.
‘Ellis, I didn’t … I couldn’t … Honestly, I need to …’
It took him a second to realise that she was talking in her sleep. He held his breath, not sure what to do.
‘I just need a little more time, and then …’
Before he knew it, she had unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for her computer bag, practically falling forward onto his lap as Jeffries exited off I-5.
‘Dee … Dee, you’re dreaming. You need to put your seatbelt back on. Dee …’
Instead of waking up, she settled back into the deep, even breathing of sleep, her head resting in his lap, way too close to his groin for polite company. His pulse went into overdrive, his trousers suddenly set uncomfortably tight across the fly. ‘Dee!’ he whispered. ‘Dee, wake up. You were dreaming. Dee.’
But she didn’t wake up. She mumbled something unrecognisable and heaved a sigh that would have passed for a sob. Dear God, he thought, please don’t let her cry. He couldn’t bear it if she cried. He wouldn’t know what to do, and the position they were now in was already compromising enough. He held his breath, and when she whimpered softly and thrashed, he laid a hand on her arm, as much for self-preservation as anything.
She calmed to his touch and once again he felt the warm in and out of her breath on his thigh. She’d be embarrassed if she woke up like this. She’d be even more embarrassed if he woke her, as though what she had done was something worthy of shame. It wasn’t. At least not for her. He was the one who should be embarrassed. He was the one who should be ashamed. How had he missed the signs? He knew what she was up against, and a good lot of it his fault for waiting so long to make the decision to hire her. He knew how conscientious she was, and yet in his efforts to avoid her, in his efforts to keep what had happened that first night in his lounge from happening again, he hadn’t noticed, he had just let her struggle through. And with Marston being such an asshole as well, Jesus, what did he expect from a woman of her calibre? It wasn’t any easier for her than it was him. She had loved Beverly too. And she had been thrown in at the deep end, thanks to him. No one could have coped better under the circumstances. He’d tell her that when she woke up.
She shifted again, and mumbled something about Alan Marston. This time she settled still closer to his cock, which had most definitely noticed her nearness, though he tried not to think about how badly he wanted her, tried not to think about the Executive Sex Clause. But her lying there with her head in his lap in the dark of the limo made him feel all sorts of things, all sorts of desires that most of the time he just ignored. He mentally shook himself. How could he even think about sex when she was exhausted, and when that exhaustion was because of him? That she had called out his name in her sleep stirred him in places that weren’t just his trousers. With a jolt that was much less pleasant, he reminded himself he was probably in the starring role of her nightmare. That saddened him deeply. He found he really wanted her dreams of him to be good, warm, even sexy like his were of her.
Too soon the limo pulled into Dee’s driveway, and when several gentle shakes and the calling of her name didn’t wake her, Ellis reached into his pocket and handed Jefferies the keys he’d take from Dee.
‘One of those is her house key. Find it and unlock it for me, would you please, and let’s hope she doesn’t have an alarm.’
He undid his seatbelt and was able to half-coax, half-manhandle the sleeping woman out of the limo and into his arms. When he physically lifted her, she mumbled something about her computer, wrapped her arms around his neck, and nuzzled in close. Jesus, she wasn’t making this easy.
By the time he’d carried her up the sidewalk, Jeffries had the door open and the hall light switched on. ‘Shut the door behind me and wait in the car,’ he said. ‘I won’t be long.’
If the driver had any thoughts on the inappropriateness of the situation, he had the good graces not to show it.
The house was large for one person, well-decorated, with clean line
s and open-planned living. He reminded himself Dee could afford it. She was not living beyond her means. He carried her up the free-standing stairs to the mezzanine that was her bedroom, managing the light switch with one elbow. There he found hard wood floors and more clean lines in shades of blue and earth tones, reminding him of the colours on the coast only a short drive away. On a king-sized bed that was more like a glorified futon on a raised platform, two very large tabby cats looked up at him through drowsy eyes, blinked, then went back to sleep.
He sat Dee carefully on the edge of the bed, holding her against his body with one arm to keep her from falling, while he awkwardly pulled back the comforter. Then, with her still leaning heavily on him, he slipped off her shoes and manoeuvred her out of her jacket, feeling the press of her warmth. For a second she roused. ‘Ellis?’ she mumbled. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Making sure you go to bed,’ he said, not certain if she’d even heard him before she was asleep again.
He tossed her jacket aside and eased her back onto the pillow, where she nestled down and sighed contentedly. He studied her for a minute, resisting the urge to remove any more clothing to make her more comfortable. The woman was asleep. That was the main thing. He pulled the comforter up over her shoulders, then, almost as an afterthought, bent and kissed her carefully on the cheek. ‘Sleep well, Dee. I’m sorry it’s been so hard. It will get better. I promise.’ Then he turned and left, switching off the light before he descended the stairs, fighting the overwhelming temptation to stay just a little longer and watch her sleep.
Chapter Eleven
In the morning, there was a message on her BlackBerry instructing her to meet Ellis in the Dungeon with Wade. She arrived to coffee and pastries from Wade’s favourite bakery and a huge glass of iced tea that he’d brewed up in the coffee maker. Ellis and Wade were already settled around the Formica table that looked like it came straight from a 1950s diner. When she joined them, and everyone was settled, Ellis spoke around a mouthful of maple bar.
‘Marston thinks you’ve been neglecting Scribal for another project, but Wade set me very straight on that little misunderstanding.’
Wade cleared his throat loudly, and Ellis glared at him. ‘I’m getting there, damn it.’ He turned his attention back to her. ‘Dee, I apologise for my bad behaviour yesterday. Clearly I didn’t understand the situation, nor did I bother to listen when you tried to tell me.’ He held her gaze. ‘Did you sleep?’
She found herself blushing, remembering him helping her into bed, remembering dreams in which he hadn’t been such a gentleman and leaving her to sleep, dreams in which he had crawled right in next to her and ravished her, dreams that had her reaching for her vibrator to ease the tension before she hopped in the shower this morning. ‘Yes, I did sleep,’ she managed.
He studied her for a long moment, almost as if he didn’t quite believe her, and just when she was about to get defensive, he took a deep breath and offered her a warm smile. ‘Good. Now then, tell me what’s so damned important about Trouvères that you’d risk my wrath and Marston’s tantrums?’
She smiled back, and for the first time in three weeks she didn’t feel like she was walking on eggshells.
Wade slid the files on Trouvères and Scribal across the table to her. She thanked him, then returned her attention to Ellis. ‘I’m sure you know that Trouvères specialise in paper recycling, Ellis, but what makes them so special is they’ve recently perfected a new technology that can take waste paper, almost any kind of waste paper, and recycle it into quality stationary.’
‘We’re not talking about the bumpy grey stuff you get in green shops,’ Wade added. ‘We’re talking about the kind of stationary you could use a fountain pen on. What Trouvères has to offer could very well change the face of the paper industry.’ He nodded to Dee, and she continued.
‘This technology would be even better than growing Marston a new supply of trees. It would be like growing him a new forest every day. And it would stop Jamison in his tracks.’
Dee opened the file and handed him two pristine sheets of paper the size of wedding invitations. ‘One of these is recycled by Trouvères. The other is virgin stock. I’m willing to bet you can’t tell which is which.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a fountain pen. ‘Go ahead. Test it.’ While Ellis doodled on the strips of paper, she went on, ‘Trouvères is a family operation started by the Rousseau twins, Claude and Yvette. The company’s always done well for itself, but with this new technology the sky’s the limit. The problem is they don’t have the capital for the scale up they need to make it work.’
Ellis held the two pieces of paper up to the light. ‘But Marston does.’
‘Exactly.’ She shoved aside the doughnut box, opened the Scribal folder, and flipped through the information. ‘Ah, here it is. Marston has a plant just outside Atlanta that’s facing a shutdown. The resulting loss of jobs would be devastating for the community. He has another plant, possibly two, that could go the same route if something doesn’t change. They’re all older plants, and amazingly enough, their outdated design makes them perfect for conversion and refitting to the Trouvères technology.’
‘And I’m sure we can engineer those conversions,’ Wade said. ‘I’ve designed a template for installing the Trouvères technology at the Scribal plants. It wouldn’t be difficult to do, and with only a moderate capital outlay on Marston’s part. Any of our engineering teams could adapt the technology for US use.’
‘It would be more expensive than Jamison’s slash and burn clear-cut, at least in the short term,’ Dee said. ‘But in the long term it would pay for itself in a few years. If Trouvères would allow Pneuma Inc. to licence the technology and Scribal to aid in its manufacture and be its sole distributor here in the States, everybody would win.
‘If my projections are right, and I’m pretty sure they are, Marston would recoup his costs and start turning a hefty profit within two years of the plant’s opening. Trouvères would get very nice licence fees, through us, which they would never be able to arrange on their own, with no negative impact on their home market. The trees would get a break, and Marston would get his renewable resource, plus a shining new reputation as a protector of the environment and local jobs. And Pneuma will do very well on the consulting, and licence and engineering fees.’
Ellis held her gaze for a long moment. ‘You do understand that even if we close the deal with Trouvères, there’s still no guarantee that Marston will talk turkey?’
‘He’d be crazy not to,’ Wade said.
Ellis pulled his BlackBerry from his pocket and called his secretary. ‘Lynn, would you reschedule my meetings this afternoon. I’ll be in the Dungeon with Dee and Wade.’ He hung up. ‘I’ve just freed up the rest of the afternoon. Dee, cancel what you need to, and let’s put the full weight of Pneuma Inc. behind this project.’
Once Ellis had given his approval, the Trouvères project moved along at high speed, and the mounting excitement reminded Dee again why she’d always wanted to work for the man. Two weeks later, the numbers were in, and the following week, she and Ellis were off to Paris to meet with Trouvères.
Chapter Twelve
In Paris, Ellis reserved a suite at a small hotel with a courtyard garden near the centre of the city. Sandra told Dee he didn’t like expensive hotel chains or the people who frequented them. The place felt less like a hotel than a comfortable apartment.
Trouvères Manufacturing was in Rouen, an hour’s train ride from the centre of Paris, but the company’s main office was a few blocks off the Champs-Élysées on a boulevard that was a prime example of the understated elegance of 19th-century architecture. The building stood out from its marble-façaded neighbours only in a small bronze plaque set to the left side of the entryway with “Trouvères” engraved in bold, Carolinian script.
Jason Daniels, the company’s chief operations officer, met them in a reception area which looked more like a Napoleonic sitting room than the vanguard of a thriving bus
iness. Ellis figured Daniels to be a few years older than he, with confidence bordering on arrogance, clearly a man used to getting what he wanted. What Ellis hadn’t counted on was that Daniels very obviously wanted Dee.
The man scooped her into a bear hug that was way too familiar for Ellis’s liking. ‘Dee! It’s good to see you again. You look fantastic.’ He gave her a sloppy kiss on each cheek, and said something in French that Ellis couldn’t quite make out.
Almost as an afterthought, he offered Ellis a stiff handshake. ‘Thorne. Good to finally meet you.’
‘You two know each other?’ Ellis asked, doing his best to sound matter-of-fact.
‘Didn’t Dee tell you?’ Daniels looked like butter wouldn’t melt. ‘She headhunted me for Trouvères.’
Ellis raked her with a hard glance. ‘She didn’t mention that.’
Daniels continued before Dee could say anything. ‘I don’t mind saying it created quite a stir when I joined Trouvères.’ He leaned closer to Ellis, as though he were imparting a secret. ‘Yvette Rousseau’s not noted for being fond of Americans, that’s why everyone was surprised when she hired me, and all thanks to the impressive work of Ms Henning here.’
Dee smiled, and fought back a blush. ‘That was one of my finer moments at Jasper and McDowell.’
Ellis couldn’t help wondering just how fine a moment it was. It was clear Daniels couldn’t take his eyes off Dee, but Dee wasn’t nearly so transparent.
‘Though, really, it wasn’t that difficult. You were perfect for Trouvères.’ She turned her attention to Ellis. ‘Jason was born in Metz. His mother’s Parisian, so he has dual citizenship. And his reputation was irresistible to a growing company like Trouvères.’
An Executive Decision Page 8
