By the time Rosalind got off the phone, Strudel had curled up at Xavier’s feet and gone to sleep. Rosalind held up one finger as she keyed into her computer with another. When she hit enter, a little devilish grin passed over her face.
“What has you so happy?” Xavier asked playfully. “I can only assume it’s because I’m here.”
He wanted to punch his own gut the moment he heard himself say it. He’d only meant it as a joke. Yet, the blush on her cheeks made it difficult to be too regretful.
“Well, there is that,” Rosalind admitted through a grin. “But also because the new interface we’re developing is testing very well with our focus group. By the way, I never said thank you.”
“For?”
“The soup.” She turned back to her computer, though with mannerisms that led Xavier to believe it was as much as a distraction measure as a necessity. “And all the other stuff that went with it. You really didn’t have to do that, you know. Nevertheless, I have to say, I’m glad you did.”
“It was my pleasure, Rosalind. I should say thank you, too.”
“Thank me?” She passed him a screwed up expression. “For what?”
“Letting me take care of you. I understand how difficult that is for a woman like you.”
Her hands stopped over the keyboard. Her voice shrunk down to the level of a mouse’s. “For some reason, with you, it’s not as hard as it usually is.”
The devil perched on Xavier’s shoulder and prodded his good senses, trying to convince the tempted man to say something, anything, to tell her how he felt. Then his common sense kicked Beelzebub to the curb and reminded him of every true word Jack had said.
“Probably just because I’m only your friend, and nothing more,” he offered. “No pressure for any sort of quid pro quo between us.”
There was also the fact that, while there was indeed something squishy and emotional going on inside him, if forced to find a word that pinned down what he felt, Xavier wasn’t sure he could do it. He was fascinated by her, in awe of her, he desired her more than was appropriate. That hardly amounted to a large enough argument for him to betray his company’s financial interests, and Rosalind’s trust, and attempt to woo her.
Right, to keep things professional, then…
Xavier cleared his throat, making Strudel pick up his ears in his direction. He leaned forward in the seat and wiped the smirk off his face, transforming into the professional he held himself out as being.
“So, I know you did something like this with Jack Colbon, but I operate a little differently,” he began. “You have a meeting in twenty minutes. I will sit in on that, at the back of the room, not at the table. I’ll only observe. After the meeting, however, I’ll ask you a few questions about why you said certain things, or made particular decisions. I think just this brief observation will be sufficient. I don’t expect to learn anything new about you during this. I just want to be sure what I see is consistent with what else I’ve witnessed.”
Rosalind arose, taking a stack of papers with her. “Think you know me pretty well, then, do you?” She circled the desk and stood next to his chair, looking down at him, so close that he could touch her if he just raised his hand up.
“I could always know you better.” Mastering his temptation to run his index finger over the bend of her elbow, he put his hands in his lap instead. “But time is short,” he resumed, ironing out the husky quality of his voice. “You have a June date planned, so we’re just going to have to fast track the particulars.”
She moved to open the door and spoke to him over her shoulder. “Conference room C. I have to have a brief talk with my CTO before the AHOD meeting. I’ll see you there. Bring Strudel along, if you don’t mind.”
Before Xavier could inquire just how he would do that, she was gone. With twenty minutes and no ideas, he looked to the dog at his feet. Strudel raised his snout and glanced back, his expression communicating a sympathetic, I got nothing, man.
At the very least, Xavier couldn’t see the harm in looking around in the office for artifacts of her personality. Like Rosalind’s flat, the décor proved sparse, unless you included sticky notes and stacks of paper. Her small desk hosted a monitor and a phone, a cup full of pens, some paperclips, and more deployable sticky notes. A pin board was covered with reports, calendars, index cards with notes scribbled, and… wait, a moment.
Peeking out from behind a pinned paper torn from a yellow legal pad and filled with engineering notation that might as well have been in Swahili, was the corner of a photo. Three toothy grins framed by bleach-blonde hair met his eyes. On a chair was a girl of about nine, a popsicle in her grasp, orange streaks visible over her fingers. To her right and behind her, a woman who was practically Rosalind’s copy plus twenty years, right down to the sensible if dated business attire. To her left, an elderly woman whose blue eyes still managed to shine through her wrinkled expression with the intensity of a teenager.
It took Xavier a moment to figure out the girl was Rosalind. It was the careless way she held the popsicle that threw him. He couldn’t imagine her letting something that messy happen. Somewhere between this photo taken twenty some years ago and now, something changed her. She was protected, cautious. He suddenly wanted to find out why, to tell her she didn’t have to keep herself so guarded. To tell Rosalind that she could trust him.
Which… was not the direction he could go. That was the job of a confidant. Of a lover. Not him.
In short order, Xavier made another discovery. On the ledge of her window, in a brown, glazed cookie jar, were a stash of dog biscuits. Strudel stood to his feet and licked his chops before Xavier had even succeeded in fishing one out. The dog followed him down the stairs, across the floor, and into the conference room without even the need to say his name. Several employees were already seated within. They looked to Strudel, who no doubt they knew. Then to him, who they clearly did not.
“I’m filling in as the dog walker,” Xavier joked, unbuttoning his jacket and taking a seat. The rest of the people shrugged and resumed their chatter. Strudel had already polished off the bribe by the time his master arrived. To Xavier’s frustration, Strudel she petted, but Rosalind only gave him a passing nod.
He took a seat and watched. Rosalind maintained the helm in the form of the finest captain. Numbers flew around the room in lightning speed, terms landed on the table that made him feel like he was watching a science fiction flick in the wee hours of morning. Her diplomacy with her staff was truly impressive. If another company had come to him searching for a CEO or chairman of the board, Rosalind would definitely make the short list.
About ten minutes in, everyone’s attention turned toward the opening door. The tardy employee sluiced through the room before finding his seat in the back, opposite where Xavier sat. It took Xavier a few minutes to source the familiarity. His name was Ivan Kerchov, a nationalized Russian systems engineer. Three months ago, they’d met for lunch. Xavier had ordered halibut, Kerchov had ordered quiche.
Strudel actually was the one to notice when Xavier rose and left the room. Rosalind followed the dog’s line of vision just in time to catch the headhunter’s backside. Through the glass wall that divided the conference room from the hall, she saw him pull out a phone. One eye on him and another on her head of customer service, she balanced her attention like a belly dancer balancing a sword while swaying.
He returned quickly enough, however, and Rosalind refocused on the discussion around her. Their strategy for piping things to the next stage was beginning to take shape. Yes, the deal with Seatech brought BetaHouse to the forefront of the marketplace, but Rosalind knew taking the lead wasn’t the same as winning the race.
Forty-five minutes later, she led Strudel back up the hall. Like usual, the mutt made for his doggie bed under her desk as soon as he slipped past her. Rosalind was just closing her door when a hand snaked round the outside of it and blo
cked the action.
“Xavier.”
He made his way in without speaking, leaving the door open. He didn’t look at her, just kept his eyes on his phone as he looked to be scrolling for something.
“Privacy is such a critical thing in a business like yours, isn’t it?”
He chanced a flash of his silver-blue eyes over the edge of his screen. She felt the piercing gaze mix with the words into a toxic suggestion.
“Like it is in any business where there’s secrets to be kept, I’d imagine,” she replied back breathily. “You have secrets, right?”
“Yes, and I would really hate for someone to, say, discover something because I inadvertently left my phone setting about and they read it off my screen.” He set his phone on the edge of her desk and stepped to her, coming within inches of her frame. “You see what I’m getting at?”
Slowly, Rosalind nodded. “The men’s bathroom is down the stairs, second on the left.”
With a tip of his chin, Xavier back stepped towards the door. “Thanks for understanding that I just couldn’t hold this.”
The moment he was out, she spun. On the screen was the last few lines of a text conversation. The black bar with white text at the top named the conversation DAN BRYERS. Xavier’s line of text at the top of the view was cut off, but led the conversation.
-WORKING OUT?
-GOOD TO HEAR FROM YOU. YES! IVAN’S AWESOME. HE’S ON SPEC PROJECT. THX.
-UR WELCOME. LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED ANYTHING ELSE.
Her nose crinkled as she put the few lines of text through her internal processor. Secrets, Ivan, Working Out…. And what did Dan Bryers have to do with anything? Last time Rosalind had heard anything about Dan he was trying to gather enough funding to transition from consulting to launching his own startup down in San Mateo. But that had been, what, a year ago? They’d even had a brief conversation at an industry convention around that time, but Rosalind had backed away when she got the feeling he was flirting just a little bit too much for her comfort and…
Secret. Ivan. Working Out. Dan Bryers.
Oh… Damn.
The screen went dark just as the door opened again. Xavier looked hesitant to enter, his eyes questioning. Without turning away, Rosalind snaked her arm around her back and felt out the corners of his phone. She palmed it, pulled it around, and offered it out to him.
“Mr. Hommes, you forgot your phone,” she deadpanned.
Xavier hesitated when reaching out. His hand circled around the cell, but reached a bit further, so that they were more shaking hands than exchanging anything. “Thank you, Ms. Betters. You can’t imagine how embarrassed I’d have been if someone was lurking around and found out something.”
“Corporate espionage is an ever-present concern in our field,” she acknowledged, shaking his hand. “It is however, one we deal with quickly and professionally. You needn’t worry that anything involving you would ever get out of this office.”
“Good to hear. I’ll call when I have some news for you. Until then, take care.”
“Xavier?”
He stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”
Her head shook from side to side, confusion marring her features. “Why?”
Xavier’s humor titled his features left. “When I’m faced with two evils, I tend to go with the one I’ve never tried.”
He said nothing more before leaving. Neither did Rosalind. She didn’t know what to say. Had he known the famous Mae West quote before? Had he been reading up on the platinum bombshell as part of the profile he was building on her? Was there another reason he might be trying to find out about Mae? Her thoughts suddenly flew to their conversation in the restaurant and the reasons he knew so much about a particular Italian dish.
But this wasn’t the time to indulge such thoughts. Rosalind had the receiver of her desk phone to her ear before the door closed all the way. A devious grin pulled tight the corners of her mouth when the party at the other end picked up on the second ring.
“Y’hello?”
“Hi, Dan. This is Rosalind Betters. You have a minute?”
Binders Full of Men
Six faces. Six names. Six terrible options.
Rosalind cycled through the profiles in measured reserve, keeping the short stack of manila folders leveled like a gambler’s hand, levitated over her bowl of gazpacho.
“Is something the matter, Ms. Betters?”
Xavier met her gaze across the table, a mask of confusion and concern on his face. In the chair next to him, Jack Colbon mirror-played the mimic.
“Um, no, just… Wow, I wasn’t expecting such… uniquely qualified candidates.”
Xavier reached out and tapped the top of the pile. The man pictured must have been sixty-five if not a day. The length of the gray hair coming out of his ears challenged that on his head. “Dr. Glambov was an Olympic champion, you know? Discus throwing. Won a silver for Yugoslavia. He also holds a PhD in electronic engineering.”
“Had we discovered electricity when he was in school?” Rosalind mumbled, bringing a bubbly giggle from Jack.
A scathing reproach from Xavier doused the outburst. “I assure you that I have reviewed each one of these candidates. Each meets your list of qualifications and what’s more telling, mine. Though I’m not in the habit of selecting men for such an intimate engagement, I assure you my standards are quite high. Jack also helped, if that reassures you at all.”
Huffing, she splayed the binder open on the table. “Maybe I should ask for his input then.” She raised a spoonful of soup to her mouth but hesitated, eying the perplexed man sitting to Xavier’s right. “Well, Jack?”
She had seen similar guffawing on television game shows when the contestant, formerly on a winning streak, suddenly found himself faced with a trivia question about which he was clueless.
After several moments of “uh” and “well,” Jack crossed his arms and grinned. “Actually, Rosalind I didn’t help with anything but an initial pool of candidates. Xav’s the guy that reached out and did the preliminary screenings. And besides, my man-hunting skills are a little rusty. I’ve been happily married for several years now.”
She appraised him with new eyes. “Ah, well, I find a married man’s opinion even more valuable.” She selected a file at random, opened it so the picture could be seen, and turned it around to them.
“Tell me, Jack, what is it about… Tzing Wu that Mr. Hommes feels would suit me? Is it the fact that he’s broken off engagements four times? That he’s rumored to be paying serious bank to the communist party to get preferential treatment for his shipments in to prime markets in China? Or do you think it’s the fact that he’s almost three hundred pounds?”
Xavier clicked his tongue. “Miss Betters, I would expect a woman to be more sensitive about size. Haven’t you ever been judged as something you weren’t just because of how you looked? Have a little sympathy.”
“A few pounds is one thing. But this… They didn’t name a district in Beijing after him. He is a district in Beijing.” As soon as the words left her mouth, shame tapped her on the shoulder and glared at her long and hard. With a sigh, she closed the folder again and reached out for her pinot. “I’m sorry. I know you must have put a lot of time into this, and I don’t mean to discredit your work. Only, I don’t know, I guess I just expected so much more than this. I expected…” Her eyes caught Xavier’s, and held him there. “…a higher opinion from you for someone meant for me.”
“I’ve let you down.” His compassionate tone accompanied his hand reaching across the table. “I do apologize, but you have to cut me a little slack. It’s my first time in trying to fill a roll like this. However, you’re right. I should have seen each of these men from your perspective as a potential husband, not mine.”
She straightened the pile of folders before handing them back across the table. “You’re welcome to call
any of them you think are cute. No reason both of us should be alone in this world.”
Xavier smiled and ran the pad of his thumb over the back of Rosalind’s knuckles. “Let me give it another go. What do you say to a round two? I’ll compile a list and have it couriered for your perusal. We can talk once you have a chance to review.”
Keeping her gaze fixed on the circles he drew into the back of her hand, it took her a moment to answer. “Um, yeah. Okay. Yes, yes, please do.” There was a beep. Rosalind withdrew the phone from her pocket and awakened the screen. “I have to run. Speaking of large Chinese men, I have several on their way to my office right now. Can I ask you to pick up the bill and charge it against our ledger?”
He smiled. “Of course. I’ll be in touch with Carmen shortly. And Rosalind?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t let you down again.”
It took three-quarters of a second after Rosalind Betters was out of earshot for Jack Colbon to round on his employer. “I sure hope you’re right about this. And FYI: I so noticed you traipsing your fingers over one of her erotic zones. Did we not discuss that and why it’s a bad idea?”
The glass vibrated as Xavier placed it on the table with a little too much umph. “Touching the back of the hand is hardly seductive. I was only trying to create a sense of compassion so she’d trust me enough to try again.”
“You really think that?” Jack retorted, slamming his card down without even looking at the bill the waiter had just deposited. “A minute of that rub-a-dub-dubbing, matched with that seductive stare you were throwing her... You have the devil’s eyes, you know that? Back in college, we used to call dark peepers like yours sex eyes. Hell, you could have had me in bed with a package like that.”
Xavier’s chest shook with a silent laugh. “You’re really not my type, Jack, but thanks. Besides, I think your husband would have my head on a platter if I ever made a pass at you.”
Have Gown, Will Wed Page 11
