by M. S. Parker
“I better let you get to work,” I said, smiling. I moved off, looking down at the envelope I held. There was a map printed on it. Thorough. I followed the little dotted line until I found myself at the door with a sign that read HR Personnel.
Slipping into the room, I found three others. For a moment, I thought that I should introduce myself to my co-workers but remembered that I was actually their manager. I was in charge.
What the hell had I been thinking, taking this job after learning they wanted me to manage three other people.
If I started thinking about that too much, I’d panic, and I preferred to panic elsewhere. In private.
Putting my best smile in place, I walked forward and put my purse down. “Hello! I’m Astra Traore.”
Each of them responded, introducing themselves and offering a greeting as I tried to keep track of who was who. After a few minutes of small talk, I sat down and took the bull by the horns.
“It seems I’ll be heading up this section of the HR department.”
One of the older people, at least by appearance, nodded. “We know.”
His name was Sean Beasley. His graying hair and calm, smiling demeanor made me think of how I’d always wished my dad would be. He was sharp though, and the dark eyes behind his glasses told me he wouldn’t be a push-over. That was good.
“The information packets provided were very thorough.” He looked down at his folder. “Seems this is your first jaunt into a manager type position, Ms. Traore. What made you take that leap?”
A cold sweat broke out over my skin at those words.
Jamie.
Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I kept my smile firmly in place as I responded. “I needed a change. Back in Philadelphia, I’d been working with at-risk youth for a while, and I loved it, but there were times when it tore out my heart and left my soul to dribble out through the hole left in my sternum.”
“You have a way with words.” That came from the woman sitting opposite Sean. The grimace on her face made me think she was picturing what I’d just said.
“Sorry. I’ve been told I can be a little dramatic.” Determined not to let thoughts of Jamie overwhelm me, I asked, “What was your name again?”
“Gianna,” she reminded me. Dark auburn hair swept back from a face that could only be described as patrician. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was elegant and stately, the kind of woman who would still command attention when she was in her eighties. Her eyes were wide-set and shrewd, studying me with thoughtful consideration. “I left the Radner Center to come here. I was the assistant human resources director there for five years.”
Yeah, she was going to be my problem employee. I could tell that before she said anything else.
“You came from a shelter for homeless teens in Philadelphia.” She picked up a folder similar to the one Sean held.
“I did.” Taking the seat at the head of the table, I folded my hands and met her gaze. “And the people here must have thought I’d learned a thing or two about conflict resolution and dealing with ungrateful, sarcastic asswipes since they hired me for this position.”
“I think you’re quite ready to handle this job then,” Sean said with a suppressed smile.
“I like to think I can hold my own.”
A few hours later, I was wishing I hadn’t done this at all.
We’d just finished up for the morning, and I already felt like I’d just spent the entire morning sandbagging an opposing team.
I guessed in a way I had.
We should have been discussing the policies and procedures. I should have started developing a basis for them, except I’d only been offered the job less than a week ago, and I had no idea where to start building a department from the ground up.
But I was a pro at faking it, so we’d played a merry little game of let’s introduce ourselves, followed by so…what’s your background. I’d discreetly turned my phone’s recorder on so I could keep track of what everybody saying – or at least listen later – while I made furious notes on things I needed to do.
Call old boss, get her input.
Call other contacts, get their input.
Research online. Call whoever you can think of, get input.
“Are you taking notes about us?”
That came from Gianna, and I looked up, thankful I’d been listening with half an ear. “No. I’m making notes for everything we need to focus on next week.”
“Next week?” She tapped her pen against the pad of paper she’d placed in front of her. “Do you plan on waiting until then to get to work?”
I’d already come to the realization that the job she’d wanted was the one I had. She’d made a hundred little pot shots, and I was under no illusions that she’d take being placed under me – a woman probably fifteen years younger than her – easily.
But I wasn’t playing power games, either.
“I plan on being realistic,” I said honestly. “With Thanksgiving, it’s a short week. Two days where we can basically get to know each other and get familiar with the facility. Two days where we can toss around ideas before we really get to work. I need to know strengths and weaknesses to come up with a game plan the boss won’t just toss out on principle.”
The door opened then, the knock coming two seconds after the faint click.
I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was, not when all the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, my skin humming.
Dash.
He came inside and glanced around, nodding before he took a seat.
Shit.
I was tempted to get up, walk out into the hallway and find my very nice office, lock myself in my very nice bathroom and scream just that. SHIT. Why was he in here?
I almost blurted that out but kept it behind my teeth and gave him a stiff nod. “Hello, Dash.”
If my use of his given name bothered him, he didn’t show it. He just offered another nod and said in a calm voice, “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”
I managed not to scowl at him.
“Don’t worry about that, Mr. Lahti.” Gianna managed to make his last name sound like seduction. “We’re not doing too much in here just yet. Ms. Traore is of a mind that we won’t get much accomplished this week, so we’re mostly covering my history and experience. This younger generation of management takes a very low-key approach.”
So sweetly said.
Such a back-handed insult.
I didn’t know if anybody else heard the venom, but I did.
Dash glanced at me, expression unreadable.
“I wouldn’t say we’re not doing much,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “It’s hard to put together an effective game plan without knowing my team. Sean, for example, is an old hat at this.” I smiled at him. “I’m surprised he wasn’t offered the job.”
“I was.” The older man leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his belly. “But I told Fred I didn’t want management. Management makes most people mean or old before their time.” He winked at me. “I think you might do just fine, but I’m not taking a risk. I’m already old. Why risk it?”
I had to assume Fred was Frederick Lieu, a very formal, polished-looking man I met earlier that morning when he’d come to the conference room and introduced himself.
“You mean you don’t want my job?” I asked the older man.
“Not if you paid me your weight in gold every week,” Sean said happily.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Gianna practically perched on the edge of her seat, waiting for me to turn my attention to her. I looked at Dash instead. “Was there something specific you needed, Dash?”
“No.” He resumed studying the room, almost like he’d never seen it before. He wasn’t paying much attention to any of us, including me.
That was how it seemed, anyway. But as I directed my attention back to Sean and Gianna, I could feel his gaze on me. I didn’t acknowledge it though.
“So, Gianna, at your previous job, w
hat practices worked best for you? What didn’t work?”
Twenty minutes later, I couldn’t handle anymore and a glance at the clock almost had me sighing in relief.
“It looks like it’s time for lunch. If I recall correctly, Dash has made arrangements for everyone to eat here.” I smiled brightly at the others and stood up, gathering my things. “After lunch, we’re to report to the conference room down the hall for a few general orientation items.”
I focused on shuffling my papers, not looking up until the sound of the door closing had me breathing out a huge sigh of relief. I straightened from the desk with a groan.
“Oh, man. Thank God. Thank God.”
“If you needed a break that bad, you could have called it off sooner.”
The sound of a too-familiar male voice had me yelping, and I spun around to see him standing in front of the closed door, hands in the front pockets of his steel-gray suit. A suit I hadn’t allowed myself to fully appreciate until now.
“Shit!” Glaring at him, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I thought you’d left.”
“If you’d been listening, you would have heard me say I needed to speak with you.”
With me?
Shit.
He had a cool, collected way about him that irritated me. It left me feeling like he had the upper hand, and that really irritated me. I was used to having the upper hand.
But damned if I’d let him see that.
I leaned back against the desk. Feeling embarrassed about my reaction just a few seconds earlier, I smoothed my hair back from my face. “You startled me. I thought I was in here alone.”
“Obviously.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, head cocked. “If you’re already worn out after…” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Four hours of work, you’ll have a hard time of this. We’ve got a lot of work to do if we want to get this place open on time, and it won’t get any easier after that.”
The unspoken words came through loud and clear.
You can’t do this job.
I smiled sweetly.
“Dash,” I paused, drawing his name out. “That’s short for Dashiell, right?”
“Yes.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “I’m not sure Dash fits you. You’re so…polished. So proper. A bit withdrawn too.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“So touchy.” Huffing a bit, I lifted a shoulder, feeling better now that I’d managed to unsettle him a little. “I just don’t see it. Then again, your father is an actor, and I guess among children named Arrow and Audio Science, Dash isn’t exactly the odd one out.”
A faint touch of red settled on his cheeks, and I could see that he was debating on whether to argue with me. It was there in his eyes. But in the end, all he did was shake his head slightly as if he didn’t see the point.
“Can we get back to discussing the job?”
The one you think I’m not cut out for, right?
I didn’t say any of that though. Instead, I gave him that same sweet smile. “Absolutely. As I was saying, you’ll have to be patient. I spent the weekend flying across the country, and before that, I was uprooting everything I’d ever known to accept a job that was just offered to me a few short days ago. I’m a bit tired at the moment.”
Clearly caught off-guard, Dash didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then he blew out a hard breath. “I guess I might have pushed everybody a little hard, dragging all of you in without even a week’s notice.”
Instead of responding out loud, I held out my hand and placed two fingers about an inch apart, indicating that maybe he’d been pushing a little hard.
I wasn’t about to go into detail about how a week ago, I’d been standing by the casket of a girl I’d failed to help, or that I’d only quit my job a few hours after learning of her death. Nor did I mention it wasn’t until after that abrupt decision that I’d sent in a resumé to the clinic Senator Sondra Thatcher had mentioned to Piety and me when she’d dropped by to speak with Silas.
In under a week, I’d made the decision to flip my life upside down.
Man, I was tired.
“I guess I need to ease off some,” Dash said, unaware of my mental gymnastics as he stared at the wall behind me.
“Well, maybe just be…aware, Dashiell.”
His eyes came to mine then, and I wished I hadn’t said anything. How that had turned into some sort of sexually charged comment, I don’t know, but as he stared at me, I realized that he and I were both all too aware.
And that wasn’t good.
At all.
Fifteen
Dash
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Didi threw her arms around my neck before I even made it inside the door.
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too.” I returned the hug and then nudged her back inside, breathing in the scents of turkey, stuffing, and a hundred other good things. Didi’s pre-Thanksgiving experimental dinner had paid off again, it seemed.
My belly rumbled.
Ever since we’d gotten the go-ahead on the clinic, my appetite had returned, and I’d been sleeping easier.
Of course, I’d also been dreaming, and all those dreams centered around the hot, sexy former mermaid running the report section of my HR department.
How in the hell was I supposed to handle working with a woman I wanted to bend over her desk and ride like there was no tomorrow?
I had no idea.
During the mandatory sexual harassment seminar on Tuesday, she’d been selected to read a section from the policy, and every time she said sexual, my dick pulsed. I’d almost had to excuse myself so I could go jack off just to keep from losing it right there. Which, of course, was a perfect reaction to have during a meeting about proper workplace behavior.
And she’d just kept on reading like I hadn’t needed to move my chair closer to the table to hide the fact that I was fucking hard.
“I’m so glad you made it.” Didi took a step back, her eyes bright.
Some thread of worry in her voice pricked through my thoughts. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Well…” She glanced over at her girlfriend, standing a few feet away. When she looked back at me, old insecurities showed in her eyes.
I understood then.
A few weeks ago, Didi told me that Christal wanted the two of them to move in together after Thanksgiving. Then she’d rushed to assure me that she didn’t want things between us to change because of it.
I never thought they would, but I knew Didi’s insecurities went deep. It was understandable. Her parents had all but cut her out of their lives when she’d come out to them, and even though she knew I loved her, some part of her was almost always braced for another cut like that.
When she announced she wanted to have dinner at Christal’s this year, I hadn’t thought much of it.
Now I understood why.
She wanted to make sure I understood I was still part of the family, and she wanted to make sure she was still part of mine. Christal was being added in, and no one was being taken out.
“We’re family, Didi.” I hugged her again, knowing she needed the extra reassurance. “Nothing will ever change that.”
She sniffed and squeezed me tighter for a moment before stepping back again.
With nothing else to say, she gave me a bright smile. “Come on, let’s get you a glass of wine.”
Didi hooked her arm through mine and started to half drag me through the living room. Christal’s place was smaller than Didi’s, but I knew it wasn’t about the size of the home they cared about, but rather who was in it. My chest tightened as a memory pushed forward, and I shoved it back into its box.
Not today.
“Have a glass of wine, and don’t tell me you don’t want any. It’s a damn holiday, and you can cut loose a little bit.”
I didn’t bother arguing. I rarely drank, but I figured I had a good reason to do just what Didi had said. Cut loose
. Relax. Even celebrate.
Christal was already in the kitchen when I followed Didi in, and I smiled at her, already feeling some of the tension in me ease. “Should I have the paramedics and cops on standby? Is the oven going to blow up?”
“Oh, hush.” Christal stuck her tongue out at me. “I’m arranging a cheese plate, you twat. There’s no cooking or cutting required.”
“I see your new clients have been expanding your vocabulary.” I chuckled.
“She can do anything decorative. That’s what makes her so great at her job.” Didi paused to kiss Christal on the cheek and then moved to the bottle of wine on the counter. “We just have to keep her away from sharp objects.”
“I’m going to use one on you both.” Christal rolled her eyes, but she had a smile on her face as she kept arranging crackers and pre-cut slices of cheese. “This is a seriously excellent gouda.”
Didi passed me a glass of wine, her head canted to the side as she eyed me. “You look…relaxed. Wow. And you didn’t even put up a fight about taking a glass of wine.”
“What’s the point?” I took a sip of the chardonnay. “You’d just nag me until I gave in just to shut you up.”
“Yes, I would,” she agreed good-naturedly. “That makes this much less painful.”
“Makes what less painful?” Suddenly I felt less relaxed, but I concealed it, taking another sip of wine and moving to swipe a piece of cheese from Christal.
She smacked my hand, but it was worth it. The gouda was excellent. Worth risking another slap.
“Sondra came by the bookstore yesterday and asked a favor.” Didi sipped her wine. “I…um…well, she told me that a friend’s daughter and son-in-law had just moved out here, and they were still trying to settle into their place…buying furniture and all that, plus she’s pregnant and starting a new job…”
Aw, hell.
“You mean Piety Hastings.” I stared down into my glass because I had a bad feeling if Piety was involved, so was Astra.
Astra.
That pretty mouth under mine. Sequins glinting under the light as she marched away from me in that sexy little mermaid costume. Those fucking seashells...