Too Many Bosses

by Jan Freed

  Too Many Bosses

  Jan Freed

  To Gerald, the partner every woman dreams of finder, and I’ve been blessed to keep

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  TWO SENTENCES into the phone conversation, Alec McDonald yanked open his desk drawer and rummaged for his Tums. “I understand your concern, Mrs. Pennington. But Jason won’t fall, I assure you. He’s as agile as a monkey.” And twice as mischievous. “Lure him down with something he likes. Tell him to come watch cartoons or something.”

  “In other words, reward him for misbehaving?”

  Where the hell were those Tums? “Look, Mrs. Pennington, I have a very busy schedule this morning. Can’t you—”

  “Climbing a thirty-foot tree is not in my job description. You’re the boy’s father. I need assistance. Just where would you advise me to go?”

  He swallowed his blasphemous suggestion. Replacing Jason’s last two baby-sitters had been difficult enough. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be home as soon as I can, all right?”

  “Well...so long as I’m not held responsible.” She sniffed. “I hope you have a tall ladder.”

  He didn’t own a step stool. “Everything’s under control. Please tell Jason I’m on my way. If he shows the good sense to climb down, call me on the car phone. The number’s on the refrigerator. Goodbye, Mrs. Pennington.”

  “Hmph,” she grunted, and hung up.

  Charming woman. Her references had been impeccable, but Lord, she was sour. Of course, Jason could try the patience of a saint.

  Digging into his pocket, Alec found the missing roll of antacids and thumbed a tablet into his mouth. Calm. He must stay calm. That was what Houston’s largest advertising agency paid him for, after all. To remain cool and logical in the midst of chaos. Compared with the self-indulgent tantrum his creative director, Tom Marsh, had thrown not ten minutes ago, Jason’s prank was a minor insubordination.

  Yeah, right, McDonald.

  Exhaling through his teeth, Alec closed his eyes against the pain, guilt and love whirling on spin cycle in his gut and fusing into one complex emotion he couldn’t begin to sort out.

  How he could manage more than one hundred employees with ease, yet allow himself to be manipulated by a six-year-old boy baffled and embarrassed him. In the two months since Jason’s arrival, Alec had been unable to break the pattern. Today’s escapade was a prime example.

  Leaving the agency would help, he assured himself. A few more weeks and he would make his move. All he needed was—

  “Excuse me, Mr. McDonald. Your ten-o’clock appointment is here,” his secretary announced through the intercom.

  Appointment?

  God, what a morning.

  Frowning, he jabbed a button. “I’ve got a minor emergency at home I’ve got to take care of, Sharon. Cancel my appointment and clear my schedule through lunch, would you?”

  “But, uh, what about Ms. Hayes, sir?”

  Odd. His secretary never questioned his instructions. “You’ll just have to reschedule Ms. Hayes for another day.” He scanned his calendar. “Friday at eleven o’clock looks good.”

  Hayes...Hayes... He searched his memory. Oh, yes. Some junior copywriter from the creative department. He’d canceled on her once already, he remembered with a twinge of guilt. Or was it twice?

  No matter. Either way, this morning’s schedule was in the toilet. And he still had to lure his son onto solid ground. Not safe ground, though. He’d been lax with the boy long enough.

  Scooping up his briefcase and untouched coffee, Alec strode to the closed door and shifted both items to one hand. Before he could reach for the knob, it twisted violently and whooshed toward his groin. He sprang backward, grimacing as hot coffee sloshed over his hand and across his chest.

  Sharon gasped. “I’m so sorry, Mr. McDonald!”

  Incredulous, he stared down at the brown splatters branding his starched white shirt.

  “She was trying to force her way in, you see, even though I said you weren’t available. I tried to block the way, but...” His secretary twisted the pearls at her neck. “Oh, dear! I had no idea you were close to the door.”

  “That’s all right, Sharon.” Alec kept his voice even. “But if you’ll get rid of this cup, I’d appreciate it. And see what you can do about wiping down my briefcase.”

  As she bustled forward, he lifted his gaze over her neat gray hair and froze. Lion gold eyes watched him with the unblinking intensity of a cat eyeing a pigeon. The sensation was not pleasant.

  “If there is any apology due here, Sharon,” he said, “I hardly think you should be the one giving it.”

  The stranger’s slightly tilted eyes narrowed to glittering slits, emphasizing their feline quality. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see a tail switching somewhere beneath her skirt.

  Alec waited for a response, lifting a single eyebrow when it became apparent there would be none. His secretary threw him an I-told-you-so look before slipping out the door.

  “Ms. Hayes, I presume?” he asked coldly.

  She was taller than average and willow slim, with dark chestnut hair pulled back into some sort of braid.

  “That’s right. I’m Laura Hayes.”

  Her voice was a rich contralto and slightly raspy. Like a cat’s.

  She stepped forward. “I’m the lowly copywriter who’s worked eight months on company newsletters and ads for the Yellow Pages just waiting for a chance to join the Regency Hotels account team.” She took another step. “I’m the woman who found out nobody touches that account without your permission. And yes, I’m the appointment you’ve broken four times in a row without so much as an explanation, much less an apology.”

  She stopped an arm’s length away, her invisible tail twitching steadily. “What I’d like to know is just who you think you are, to treat anyone so rudely?”

  Alec blinked, not sure he’d heard right. She met his glare with one of equal outrage.

  Drawing himself up to his full height, he gave her the cool assessing look that had rattled everyone from mail-room clerks to agency principals. “If I’m not mistaken, Ms. Hayes, I’m your boss. I don’t explain my actions to anyone who doesn’t pay my salary, and you won’t get anywhere near the Regency-account team without remembering that. Nor will you touch that account unless you learn to curb your impulsive behavior.”

  Her gaze wavered and dropped to the floor.

  Alec released his breath. She had a nice straight nose, he noted magnanimously, and the kind of mouth that deserved a second glance. Her full bottom lip quivered now with emotion. He watched her lashes slowly lift and prepared himself for her dismay, possibly even tears. Anything but irreverent glee.

  “You’ve got to be kidding, right?” she said on a choked laugh. “You cancel four appointments with me at the last minute and then call my behavior impulsive? Don’t you think that’s—” She stopped, crossed her arms and peered at him closely. “Do you do that on purpose?”

  Alec wondered about the woman’s IQ. “Do what?”

  She flung a hand toward his forehead. “That eyebrow thing. Do you raise it and look down your nose all the time, or is it just me?”

  Alec felt like he’d stumbled into a carnival fun house. He mentally groped fo
r balance.

  “In answer to your first question, Ms. Hayes, I never kid. And I’d call your behavior not only impulsive, but incredibly foolish for someone in your position. Or have you forgotten so soon who I am?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, puh-leeze. First, I get a supervisor who turns out to have tunnel vision, then a boss who turns out to be a...a...” Her gaze zoomed in on his left eyebrow and lit with inspiration. “A castaway from the starship Enterprise.

  “Well, Spock, sorry to have disturbed your morning. But you know how emotional we humans get when we’re treated like machines.” With a swirl of black pleated skirt, she turned and swept through the door.

  Of all the impertinent... Alec followed her, inhaling the faint scent of lavender in her wake. “Wait just a minute, Ms. Hayes. What’s so important that you’d risk your job for it?”

  He reached out and caught her shoulder. From the look she directed at his fingers, they might have been bird droppings. Not until he lifted them did she slowly turn around.

  “My job is at risk?”

  To his amazement, Alec felt his face heat.

  She sighed. “Oh, well. Mr. Marsh will be furious with me for trying to talk with you, anyway.”

  “Tom Marsh doesn’t want you to see me?”

  “Not in this lifetime. That’s why getting an appointment with you has been so nerve-racking. I’ve had to wait until I was sure he’d be gone from the department before scheduling a meeting. And then when you canceled each time...” She shrugged eloquently.

  Alec weighed his options. Not twenty minutes ago—knowing full well Sam Parker was on the verge of moving the Regency Hotels account elsewhere—Tom had presented yet another set of stale layouts for the all-important Regency campaign. Puzzled as much as frustrated, Alec had ordered new layouts be turned in by three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.

  This woman was, in her own words, just a lowly copywriter. But if the idea of her seeing Alec sent a bee up Tom’s butt, it was worth investigating.

  “Look, Ms. Hayes. I was on my way home to take care of a minor problem. But if you’d like to ride along with me, we can have that meeting on the road.”

  She assessed him frankly, neither coy nor intimidated as most women were in his presence.

  “You’ll have twenty minutes of my undivided attention. That’s how long it takes me to drive home.”

  Suddenly aware of their audience, he raised an eyebrow. “Through taking notes, Sharon?” When his secretary’s dentures clacked shut, he nodded. “Good. I should be back by one. You can reach me on my car phone until then.”

  All business, he retrieved his newly buffed briefcase and turned toward the elevators, pretending not to see Laura’s impudent salute to his back. In the interest of time, he would ignore her disrespect for now.

  But he rather looked forward to showing Ms. Laura Hayes the value of self-discipline in the near future.

  * * *

  THE WITCH went back inside. Jason let out his breath and swung his legs in the air. When she’d stood under the tree and yelled up at him, he’d been scared by the mean look on her face. But he hadn’t climbed down.

  His dad was coming to get him.

  He wriggled, then bounced his bottom against the branch and rode the seesaw motion. It was sort of like how he’d felt since coming to live here. Nothing around him stayed still anymore.

  He’d been kind of scared on the airplane ride to America. But some pretty ladies had fussed over him the whole time, so it wasn’t too bad. One of them had led him down the ramp to a tall dark-haired stranger. Jason knew it was his dad ‘cause the man’s eyes were like looking in a mirror.

  For a minute, Jason had seen something that made him feel important. Needed. Even loved.

  Then his dad thanked the lady, and the special look was gone. He’d watched for it, waited every day for it to come back, but his dad didn’t look at him much after that first time. So Jason had learned what he was supposed to do. Mind the baby-sitter and play with his toys—his dad bought him whatever he asked for—and stay out of everyone’s way.

  That was what he was supposed to do.

  Instead, he did bad things, mean things he never would have done to Nanny Howard. Like taking money from purses. And putting doodlebugs in bedroom slippers. And climbing trees to miss the school van. He’d felt kind of guilty doing stuff to the first two baby-sitters.

  But not to the witch. The witch hated him. And he hated her.

  Shivering, he tilted his face toward the sun. The little pieces of blue showing through the leaves weren’t warm at all. Everybody said Texas was lots hotter than England, but he didn’t think so. He’d never felt this cold there.

  His stomach growled and he hugged it tight. He should’ve eaten the witch’s yucky oatmeal right off before she’d called him a brat and taken away his bowl. Scrunching over, he studied the ground below and waited.

  His dad was coming to get him. And maybe, just maybe, he’d give him that special look again.

  * * *

  LAURA WAITED for Alec between the parking garage and high-rise office building as instructed. A strong gust of March wind swept through the alley, carrying a nose-wrinkling mixture of jasmine blossoms and exhaust fumes.

  She loved this time of year, before sweltering heat and humidity forced her to scuttle between air-conditioned environments as quickly as possible. Raising her face to the cloudless sky, she felt a surge of optimism.

  Month upon agonizing month of frustration had led to today’s outburst in Mr. McDonald’s office. She couldn’t wait any longer for someone to give her a chance. She had to take it.

  Living in Houston did that to people, regardless of where they were born. The “can do” attitude that had survived the oil and gas bust of the eighties now spurred an economic revitalization that had earned Houston the title of Cinderella City. Like her adopted town, Laura intended to make the most of her second opportunity.

  Alec surprised her by pulling up curbside in a late-model Chevy Silverado, instead of the expected status import car. She took one look at the gleaming black truck and promptly salivated. All-terrain tires, fog lights, bucket seats, four-wheel drive—it had all the bells and whistles lacking in her family’s battered pickup.

  Someday she would present her father with such a truck, Laura vowed. She would help pay off the debts and be guilt free to pursue her dream of establishing her own agency. But first she’d better convince this Alec McDonald of her value to Harris, Bates and Whitman Advertising.

  Inside the cab, Alec leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door. She ignored his outstretched hand and boosted herself up, landing smoothly in the leather cushion.

  He sent her a curious glance. “Looks like it’s not the first time you’ve done that.”

  “My dad’s driven a pickup for as long as I can remember. When I was little, he’d start rolling down the road whether I was in or out.” Laura smiled at the thought of Grant Hayes’s notorious impatience. “After being dragged through gravel ruts a few times, I learned how to hop in any way I could.”

  Boarding a pickup wasn’t the only thing her dad had taught her. She could almost hear him now. Just because you jump into situations feetfirst, Laura Jane, doesn’t mean you have to leave your head behind altogether.

  Forcing her mind back to the present, she fastened her seat belt and glanced out the window. They were heading straight for the Galleria area. The city’s second downtown boasted a concentration of fine shopping complexes, restaurants, luxury hotels and high-rise offices. If Alec lived anywhere close to this West Loop area, he earned a heftier salary than she’d thought.

  Stealing a quick peek at him, she cursed her quick temper—even if it had been totally justified. Alec McDonald was everything she’d heard. Arrogant. Cold. A credit to his Ice Man nickname. Why, he hadn’t so much as thanked Sharon for polishing the briefcase she’d extended like an offering to the gods. Despite that, his middle-aged secretary had twittered like a lovestruck teenager under
the influence of those spiky-lashed sapphire blue eyes.

  Laura shifted ever so slightly toward the steering wheel, bringing Alec into her peripheral vision.

  So the man was attractive, she admitted.

  Her gaze dropped and traveled the six feet plus from his polished leather shoes to his wavy black hair, lingering at scenic points in between.

  Okay, very attractive.

  She wasn’t impressed. After all, she’d been raised by two of the most ruggedly handsome male specimens in Texas. And it wasn’t her dad or brother’s good looks Laura had found comforting those first years after her mother died. She remembered the spontaneous bear hugs and big awkward hands combing her hair, buttoning her small coat and wiping away her tears.

  Alec turned his head and caught her staring. A raven black eyebrow lifted in the now-familiar gesture. “If I’d known this is how you’d spend your twenty minutes, Ms. Hayes, I could have given you a snapshot and been done with it. You’ve got fifteen minutes left.” He adjusted his rearview mirror a fraction. “I suggest you use them wisely.”

  Laura felt the blood rush to her head in an equal mixture of anger and embarrassment. She needed this man, she reminded herself. Pride be damned. “I’d like to apologize for my earlier behavior. I don’t barge into offices as a general rule.”

  His mouth twitched once before melding back into a granite line. “I get the impression you’re not happy at Harris, Bates and Whitman, Ms. Hayes. Surely you realize I have no direct line of authority over your position?”

  Hypocrite. “On the contrary. You made a point of letting me know exactly how much authority you do have in this agency. And if I’m not mistaken, Mr. McDonald,” she said, mimicking his earlier tone perfectly, “you’re my boss.”

  His jaw was very lean and square. Especially when his teeth were clenched.

  “True enough. But why come to me for help? I’m not exactly known around here for my sympathetic shoulder.”

  Laura bit back a crack of laughter at that understatement. To date, three women under his supervision had resigned in tears. As long as his marketing brilliance continued to bring in accounts like Regency Hotels, no one dared take him to task.