Making the First Move

by Reese Ryan

  “Okay. But they can be a handful. I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  He smiles and reaches for my hand. “I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I stroll into work on Monday morning, newspaper tucked underneath my arm and a steaming hot mocha latte in hand. I’m exhausted. Raine and I were up all night talking, laughing, making love. He had a 6 a.m. flight. I’m operating on about three hours of sleep.

  We had a memorable weekend, and my family adores him. In fact, my mother may be more taken with him than I am. He even managed to win over Mickey.

  I yawn, no free hand to cover my wide-open mouth as I enter the office.

  “Looks like you had quite the weekend,” Leslie says. “Can’t wait to hear about it.”

  I smile. “It was pretty amazing.”

  “I’ll bet.” She follows me into my office. “Oh, and look, no carpet fibers in your hair this time.”

  “You’re never going to let me forget about that, are you?”

  “No, I don’t think I will.” Leslie plops down in the guest chair across from my desk. “So, tell me all about this phenomenal weekend you had.”

  I take a sip of my latte and sit in my chair. “Okay, I’ll tell you.” I pull out a stack of pictures Marcus took at dinner last night and printed on the spot. I show her a picture of Raine and bring her up to speed on everything over my latte and the Danishes she picked up this morning.

  It feels good to talk about our relationship. I haven’t felt this way about someone since Jax.

  My undying love for Jaxson Payne was borne out of a high school crush I’d never really gotten over. My feelings for Raine are based on a much deeper foundation. He’s a man I truly admire. The fact that he’s tall, handsome and incredibly sexy is just a bonus.

  Leslie leans forward in her seat. “It’s good to see you so happy. You deserve this.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, I’d better get back to work. We’ve got a busy week ahead of us,” Leslie says. “Call me if you need something.”

  Now it’s time to get down to business—preparing for the arrival of Priscilla Cohen. But first I take a silver frame out of my desk and slide in one of the pictures Marcus took of Raine and me last night. We’re cuddled on the sofa with my nephews at our feet and my family surrounding us. I’m smiling at him, and he gazes at me with a look I can only describe as “love” in his eyes. I set the framed photo next to the picture of Dad and me behind my desk.

  Priscilla blows into the office around eleven, her luggage in tow. She’s wearing a Burberry trench coat and a pair of Stella McCartney boots made for people who don’t actually have to walk in snow. This is evident from the large, wet stain on the back of her coat where she’s apparently fallen on the sidewalk.

  An insidious smile creeps across my face as I imagine Priscilla Cohen’s ass hitting the sidewalk, her feet in the air. Welcome to Cleveland, bitch.

  “You didn’t have any trouble getting here, did you, Priscilla?” I ask as Leslie takes her coat and hangs it on the rack. Leslie flashes me a stern look that tells me to behave myself. I acknowledge her with a slight nod.

  “No trouble at all.” Priscilla smooths her skirt and lifts her purse onto her shoulder. “But I could really use a cup of coffee. Got any around here?”

  “Just brewed a fresh pot,” Leslie says. “I’ll get you a cup.”

  Priscilla’s gaze sweeps the room as she surveys Leslie’s desk and assesses the waiting area. She fixes her mouth in a slight frown. “Where will I be working?”

  I draw in a deep breath. I wanted to set her up in the main reception area, where Leslie and I could keep an eye on her. Leslie didn’t want Priscilla invading her space. Besides, she said, the account manager really should have her own private space to see clients and meet with candidates. I knew she was right.

  “We’ve got you set up down the hall on your left.” I gesture in the general direction of her temporary lair. “Why don’t you go ahead and get settled in. We can meet in my office in, say, thirty minutes.”

  “Great. That’s it there, I assume.” She nods toward the open door behind me.

  “It is. I’ll meet you back here after you’ve had your coffee. I know better than to try to have a conversation with you before then.” I smile, trying to lighten the mood.

  Priscilla offers an obligatory smile then grabs her luggage and disappears down the hall.

  Back in my office, I sip my cooled latte and review the client files Leslie prepared for Priscilla.

  Never one to follow the lead, Miss Prissy knocks on my slightly ajar door fifteen minutes later, her padfolio and a pen in hand. “I know you said thirty minutes, but I’d really love to get a jump on things today.” Priscilla smiles sweetly. “Unless, of course, you’re not prepared.”

  Using my open palm to indicate she should sit down in one of the guest chairs, I stiffen my spine and sit tall. “Now’s fine.”

  Priscilla sits in the chair and frowns when she realizes she’s sitting several inches below me. The corner of my mouth turns up in a sardonic smile. She crosses her legs, flexes the red-soled Louboutins she’s changed into and runs her fingers through her recently colored hair. She’s sporting Sarah Jessica Parker’s latest hair du jour, a deep brown with sun-kissed blond highlights. “Damien says you’re overwhelmed and need my help.” Priscilla taps a pen against her open pad. “So, what can I do?”

  I seethe at her implication that I’m in over my head, and need her to ride in on her broom and save me. “As Damien mentioned, we’re doing quite well here,” I say with a tight-lipped smile. “Our growth has exceeded the capacity of our current personnel. We just need someone to tide us over until I can select a permanent account manager.”

  “Isn’t that what I said?” She bats her eyelashes and adjusts her position in the chair.

  I ignore the question. “Here are files on ten clients with acquisition requests we’re currently filling.” I push the files across my desk.

  Priscilla leans forward and takes them. She opens the first file and thumbs through it. Then the next. “These seem pretty straightforward. I could do this in my sleep,” she adds with a condescending smile.

  “Great. Then I guess we’re good.” I’m eager to get her out of my office. “Anything you need in terms of company information you’ll find in each client’s folder. If you need resource information, Leslie can get you anything you need.”

  “Good to know.” Priscilla uncrosses her legs and slides the client folders into her padfolio. “When will I get to meet the clients?”

  A knot tightens in my stomach. I’ve been thinking about this all morning. “I don’t think that’s necessary right now. You have all the information you need to proceed. As you said, these acquisition requests are pretty straightforward.”

  Priscilla narrows her eyes and presses her lips together, pinching her fine, porcelain features. Arms crossed, she takes a deep breath. She releases it in a single stream of air through her nostrils, like a bull preparing to make a pass at a bullfighter.

  “I know you’re accustomed to working more closely with the clients. But I don’t want to give clients the impression we’re playing musical chairs with their accounts. After all, you’re only filling in temporarily,” I say firmly.

  “So you don’t want me to meet your precious clients.” The tone with which she says this makes me want to reach across the desk and smack her. “The reason Damien flew me out here is because I’m damned good with clients.”

  “No, the reason Damien flew you out here is because you need to demonstrate that you’re a team player.” My voice rises to match hers.

  “I dropped everything, flew three thousand miles and broke the heel on a very expensive pair of boots to come here. If that doesn’t demonstrate that I’m a team player, I don
’t know what does.” Priscilla leans forward in her chair. “All I’m asking is to meet the clients I’m serving. I think they have the right to know who’s actually working their accounts.”

  I’d been close to wavering until she made that statement. I take a deep breath and force a smile. “I respect your opinion, Priscilla. However, I’m going to decline your request. If you feel it’s necessary to meet with a client, come to me and we’ll discuss it first,” I say with finality.

  “Fine.” The words squeeze through her tightly clenched teeth. Her cheeks and forehead are flushed. She looks past me. “Then perhaps you can give me the highlights on each client.”

  “Sure. Why don’t I order us some lunch? You must be hungry after your flight.”

  She nods begrudgingly. “I could eat.”

  I take out the menu from Mallorca, a restaurant where I often entertain clients. Maybe treating Priscilla to an excellent lunch will help smooth her ruffled feathers and get us back on track. I order veal scallopini with fresh mushrooms in a marsala wine sauce for her, lobster ravioli in a white cream sauce for me and shrimp with scallops in an apple-champagne sauce for Leslie. I don’t even bat an eye when Priscilla insists that her order be bagged separately.

  We review each client’s acquisition request over lunch in my office. Most of our conversation is spent with one of our heads down over our meal or with Priscilla staring past me and avoiding direct eye contact. It’s just as well. Behind her back we often joke that, like Medusa, it could be lethal to make eye contact with her.

  Two hours later, Priscilla rises from the chair and walks behind my desk. She points to the picture of my father and me. “Is this your dad?”

  “Yes.” I don’t offer any further information.

  “He’s handsome,” she says. I don’t comment. “Speaking of handsome, who’s this guy? Is this your boyfriend?”

  I sigh. I want to tell her he’s my cousin, the plumber or some random guy. But we’ve both got that ridiculous googly-eyed look that clearly indicates we’re into each other. “Yes,” I say again.

  “He looks so familiar. Like we’ve met before.” Priscilla picks up the photo and stares at it. I realize this is what she’s been staring at all afternoon. She’s been trying to determine if she recognizes him.

  “I doubt it,” I say. “Though he is from San Francisco.”

  “I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone when you were in San Francisco.”

  “I wasn’t.” I’m increasingly annoyed with her questions but hesitant to shoot down her attempts to be personable.

  “Hmm...well, he looks really familiar. What’s his name?” She looks at me.

  “Raine Mason.” Why did I put that photo in my office today? Geez!

  Priscilla is mid-question when my cell phone rings, and Raine’s image appears. A knowing smirk lifts the corners of her mouth. “Speak of the devil.” She puts the picture back. “I’ll get out and let you take your personal call.”

  I force a wooden smile. I’m sure she’s heading to her office to write in a secret notebook, Took personal call at 2:30 p.m.. I wait until the door closes behind her before I answer the phone.

  * * *

  Two weeks pass, and everything seems to go well. Priscilla requested meetings with a few of our clients. Each time I rejected her request. The first two times she pouted. The last time she smiled like she’d just won a prize. Another two weeks pass without incident. In fact, Priscilla seems jovial and upbeat. She even stops complaining about the weather.

  I arrive at the office in a new black, cap-sleeved Anne Klein sheath I purchased for today’s meeting with Guy Lambert, director of personnel for the Cleveland Crushers—the local hockey franchise. Jax arranged the meeting. The three of us are going to meet over dinner tonight. Guy’s considering J&G for his executive search needs.

  My coat is barely off before Priscilla greets me at the door in a fuzzy beige sweater and a pair of tan slacks.

  “Good morning! Don’t you look gorgeous for tonight’s meeting.” She leans in and gives me a hug. The fibers of her sweater press against my nose and mouth.

  “What’s that for?” I wriggle free of her like a five-year-old boy squirming out of the arms of his mother.

  “Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I know I was a bit hesitant before, but the truth is, you’re helping me get to the next step in my career. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. How much I appreciate you.”

  Leslie and I exchange glances. She shrugs and goes back to her computer screen but continues to watch us out of the corner of her eye.

  “Well, Priscilla, I appreciate your appreciation.” I juggle my portfolio and rub my right eye. “Despite my reluctance to bring you on board, you’ve proven to be a real asset.”

  “It’s big of you to admit that, Gordon.” A broad smile spreads across her thin face. “I’d like to bring you up to speed on a few of the projects I’m working on. Can we meet in my office for a bit?”

  “I’d love to, but I’ve already got a lot on my plate today—”

  “C’mon, Gordon. I got breakfast from Wilhemina’s. All I need is fifteen minutes.” She bats her eyes.

  “Fine. I’ll meet you in your office in a few.”

  “Excellent.” Priscilla turns on her heels and takes off down the hall.

  “What’s with her?” I ask Leslie as soon as Priscilla is out of earshot. I rub my eye again. I stayed up late preparing for tonight’s meeting, so I’m already a little groggy. But now my eyes feel tired and I feel a tickle in my nose and throat, like I’m coming down with a cold. The last thing I need right now.

  “I don’t know.” Leslie shrugs. “She was here when I arrived. But for the record, I still don’t trust her. That heifer’s up to something.”

  “She’s been pretty innocuous lately. Maybe our little monster is growing up.”

  Leslie gives me a look that clearly indicates she doesn’t agree. “I’ve known women like that my entire life. They never give in, not ever. Keep your guard up.”

  I nod and sneeze. “Yes, Mama.”

  I head into my office, put my briefcase on the desk and slip my purse into my bottom drawer. After checking my voice mail and emails, I head to Priscilla’s office.

  She has her little space heater on full blast. The overpowering aromas of chilis, peppers, onions and garlic overwhelm the small space.

  “Perfect timing! I just reheated our food.” Priscilla takes our food out of the small microwave perched on a file cabinet in the corner of her office. She hands me a paper plate and plastic dishware.

  I thank her for the meal and dive in to the delicious, cheesy hash-brown bake. She ordered it light on the onion and garlic—the way I do on days I’m meeting with clients. She eats a delicate spinach and egg white omelet.

  “So what’s so important it couldn’t wait?” I ask after eating several bites of my breakfast. A violent sneeze comes out of nowhere. I barely have time to cover my mouth to keep from spraying my meal. “Excuse me.”

  “Bless you.” She frowns. “Are you coming down with a cold or something?”

  I grab a napkin and wipe my mouth. Before I can use it to wipe my nose, Priscilla stops me.

  “Here.” She pulls a box of tissues from a drawer in her desk. “Use this. You’ll scratch the skin off your nose with that thing.”

  Sneezing again, I use a napkin to cover my mouth. I ball it up and throw it into the trash before taking a tissue from the box. This morning I was groggy, but fine. But now my nose is running, I keep sneezing and my eyes feel like I haven’t gotten enough sleep the past few days.

  “So what was it you wanted?” I ask again. My patience is wearing thin and I appear to be developing an allergy to Miss Prissy.

  Priscilla offers a repentant smile. “I just wanted you to know I respect your authori
ty as the manager of the Great Lakes branch, and I’m committed to doing whatever I can to ensure its success. I know you don’t trust me with your clients right now, and maybe I’m to blame for that. But I’ve been working hard the past month to earn your trust. I’m here to help you any way I can, whether that means meeting with clients or working in the trenches here at the office.”

  I sneeze and yank another tissue from the box to wipe my nose and mouth. “That’s big of you, Priscilla. I appreciate your support. And the truth is...things have gone more smoothly since you’ve taken over acquisitions. I’ve shared that with Damien and Jane. They’re very pleased.”

  “Thank you.” She furrows her brows and regards me suspiciously. I don’t blame her. I was pretty shocked to hear glowing praise for Priscilla come out of my mouth during my conference with Damien last week, too. But it’s true. She’s been an asset to the branch, as Damien predicted she would. “Well, I don’t want to take up all your time. You’ve got a busy morning, and so do I.”

  I nod, grab my plate and head back to my office.

  * * *

  Leslie knocks on my office door a little before 1 p.m. I feel miserable, but I’ve been busy working on a few projects.

  “Come in.” I rub my right eye and sneeze.

  She cracks the door and peeks her head in. “Hey, Mel, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving for...oh my God! What happened to your face?”

  “What is it? What do you mean? Did I ruin my makeup?”

  Leslie comes closer, her pretty brown eyes widened in panic. She grabs my hand. “I don’t want to scare you, sweetie, but the best way to describe it is...well, you look like you were in a fight with a boxer.”

  “What?” I rush toward the mirror on the wall. My mouth drops open. My eyes and nose are swollen and red. My skin looks splotchy. I turn to Leslie. “What the fuck happened to my face?”

  “I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “Maybe an allergic reaction to something?” She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. “What was in that food Priscilla gave you?”