by Karen Booth
“Everything okay over here?” Tara asked.
“Clay wants to be taken off the Seaport project.” Grant slipped his arm around Tara’s waist, but he still seemed deeply concerned.
“No. Absolutely not. You and Astrid are the dream team. Plus, now that I’m officially stepping into my role as co-CEO, I need you two to steer the ship on that project. I’m planning on handing Astrid all of the work I’ve been doing.”
If only Tara knew that she was only making his argument that much stronger. She’d at least been a bit of a buffer between Astrid and him. Now she was leaving it to just the two of them? “The project right now is nothing more than adapting the existing plan to meet the city’s needs. Those are small details that are best left to one of the more junior architects.” Clay hoped this new line of thinking would convince them.
Tara shook her head and pinched her lower lip between her fingers. “I don’t know.” She turned to Grant. “I would just feel a whole lot better about things if Clay was still the principal. He’s been working on it from the very beginning. It would make me very nervous to step away from it if he wasn’t still there.”
Clay could not catch a break here. He kept losing ground, despite having dug in his heels.
“It’s my fault,” Astrid interjected, surprising the hell out of Clay. “The truth is that Clay has a hard time working with me. But don’t worry. I will do better. We will work out our difficulties and everyone can proceed with their plans. Don’t worry about it.”
Tara returned her sights to Astrid, then directed them at Clay. “Is that what this is really about? Office politics?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Clay answered.
“Do you want to tell me what, exactly?” Tara countered.
As for further explanation, Clay had none. It looked as though his bed had been made for him and he’d better learn to lie down in it, however much it bothered him. Perhaps he could start wearing blinders to the office or tell Astrid that they should only communicate via email. “Look, it’s my fault. Not Astrid’s. I’m too rigid in my ways.” He didn’t want to cast himself in a bad light, but he also didn’t want Astrid to take the heat for this. He’d started it.
“Give us some time,” Astrid said. “We’ll work it out. And if we don’t, I’ll take myself off the project.”
A frustrated grumble fought to leave Clay’s throat. That wasn’t what he wanted either. But he didn’t really have a choice. He could live with the torment of Astrid for another week or two, then he’d figure out his next move. “Yes. Fine. We’ll find a compromise.”
“Okay, then,” Grant said, seeming satisfied. He and Tara were quickly whisked back into the flow of the party, celebrating their many bits of good news.
Clay knew he was supposed to be happy tonight. He had the nomination he’d worked hard for. And if things were simpler for him, he could allow himself to feel at least a little jubilation. He might even flirt with Astrid, or at the very least, not let her get to him so much.
“I hope I didn’t put you on the spot,” Astrid said. “I just don’t want things to be strained between us.” She looked down at her feet, then back up, capturing him with the storm in her eyes. “I mean, any more than they are.”
Good God, he was a jerk. Part of him wanted to explain what his problem really was, but even he failed to fully comprehend it. He only knew that there was a force deep inside him telling him to stay away. It was a reflex. He couldn’t help it. “I’ll see you at the office on Monday, okay?”
“I’d like to have a meeting first thing so we can talk about this some more.”
He shook his head. “No need for a conversation. It’s not you. It’s me.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. He needed to get out of there, get back to his daughter, Delia, and sleep off the effects of this night. Perhaps he’d have a clearer head in the morning. He scanned the crowd for his sister, but she was nowhere to be seen. He’d text her when he got home. “Have a good weekend,” he said to Astrid before starting for the door.
“There’s no way it’s just you.” Astrid was right behind him, trotting along in her heels, the ones that made her legs look unbelievable.
“Trust me. It is.” He pulled the door open, but out of habit, he stood aside for Astrid. Damn his gentlemanly ways.
Astrid turned back to him as soon as she was out on the flagstone landing. The night breeze blew her hair across her face, and she shook it free. He struggled to remain standing. How could any woman be so beautiful? “It’s never just one person’s fault. And I know there has to be a reason you treat me the way you do.”
Clay had worried his cold shoulder had gotten to be too much. He closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the most fun to work with. I’m under a lot of stress. It’s not an excuse, but it might explain some of it.”
“I know I can be overly enthusiastic. I’m just excited to have a job where I feel like I have more of a purpose. I was a model for years and that didn’t make me feel very valuable.”
“I’m sure your employers were very happy with your work.” How could they not be? She was so damn sexy, she could sell a brick to a man standing on a diving board. He resumed his trek to his car.
“Maybe. I don’t really know. But I do know that I enjoy being at Sterling and I don’t want that to change.”
“You own a chunk of the company. You can write your own ticket, can’t you?” He stopped and turned to her. “Honestly, do you even need to work?”
“Do you?” She artfully arched both eyebrows at him.
No, he didn’t need to work, at least not for the money. He and Miranda had inherited the entire family fortune when their grandmother died. But he did need to work for his own sanity. It kept his mind occupied. It kept him from constantly rehashing his past. “How do you know that?”
“I ask questions.”
Clay did not want anyone digging around for information about him. That didn’t sit well with him at all. “Well, don’t. You and I are coworkers. There’s no reason for you to know anything about my personal life.” Anger was bubbling up inside him. He just needed to get to his car.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to understand.”
“Understand what? Me?” He nearly started laughing. As far as he was concerned, he was an easy case. If he was left alone to live his life, he’d be fine.
“Yes, you.” She gripped his elbow and her warmth traveled through his body at warp speed. “I want to be able to work with you. I want to learn from you, and collaborate, and try to soak up at least a little of your brilliance.”
He stood paralyzed. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. She was so earnest, so unrelenting in her pursuit of a compromise. As far as he was concerned, that only made her more dangerous. Why couldn’t she simply give up on him, go back inside, and forget about this whole thing?
“Why do you hate me, Clay? I’m struggling to understand what I did.”
“I don’t hate you.” It’s that I can’t stop thinking about you.
“But it feels that way sometimes.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” He clicked the fob and strode double-time to his Audi, fumbling for the door handle like a fool. He wasn’t going to let another woman get to him. Not like last time. Not ever again. He started the engine and the lights immediately came on. Straight ahead, Astrid stood there, shaking her head in disbelief. Even in the harshest light he could imagine, she was beautiful and alluring and the exact woman he wanted to take in his arms and kiss. She was also so difficult to understand. What could make someone so eager to trust in a virtual stranger?
He’d learned long ago to trust in virtually no one.
Two
A peace offering was in order for Monday morning. Astrid decided that hers would be simple—baked goods. Clay displayed no weakness for anything, but he did someti
mes duck out of the office in the morning for a doughnut from the bakery across the street from Sterling Enterprises. Was satiating his sweet tooth the way out of the dog house with Clay? Astrid wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
The line was always long. Sometimes it was out the door, but this morning, Astrid must have been lucky, because that wasn’t the case. She took her place in the bustling, lively space, where six or seven people worked the counter, taking orders, ringing up customers, bagging pastries and making lattes. Heavenly smells of cinnamon, chocolate, coffee and steamed milk swirled in the air. It was a warm and cozy spot, which did make Astrid wonder about Clay. People got a sliver of happiness here—is that why he liked to come? Or did he feel out of place?
Astrid knew very well what it was like to feel that way, starting with her family. She was the youngest of six, and the only girl. One could argue that she’d been out of place from the word go. Her mother had apparently always wanted a girl, but her father had been opposed to the idea of more children. There were already plenty of mouths to feed and their four-bedroom house in Bergen, on the southwestern coast of Norway, was bursting at the seams.
Astrid’s five brothers were all tall, strapping young men, who not only treated Astrid as though she were made of glass, but also acted as though she might be an alien. She’d had to fight for their attention, and most important, to be included. They all had their lives pretty well worked out when Astrid came along. She was the intruder, the one who disrupted the family equilibrium. It didn’t help that her mother, who was loving and full of heart, was always nagging her brothers to take her along when they went places and let her be included in their activities. It wasn’t until she had a growth spurt at age eleven and convinced her oldest brother to let her play football with them that she finally earned some respect. She’d gotten pretty roughed up that day, but she’d stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with them and she’d competed. She’d forced them to include her.
Astrid couldn’t ignore the parallel here, with Clay not wanting her around and Tara taking the role of her mom, urging them to find a way. But Astrid was not a little girl, she was a grown woman, and she owned just as much of the company as Tara did. She would sort this out for herself. She didn’t need anyone else’s help. She just needed doughnuts.
When she finally reached the front of the line, she was pleased to see they still had several of Clay’s favorite, the Diego, filled with dark chocolate custard and topped with caramelized sugar like crème brûlée. She ordered three, two for Clay and one for herself. She might as well see what all the fuss was about. As she was waiting for her coffee, a familiar face caught her eye—Sandy, a woman who’d worked at Sterling as a general assistant when Astrid first arrived. Sandy was a valuable member of the support staff, confident and capable. Sandy had also essentially disappeared.
As she approached the door, Astrid eyed her, unsure if she’d identified her correctly. When the woman caught sight of Astrid and quickly looked away, Astrid knew she had to say something. “Sandy? Is that you?”
She turned, confirming Astrid’s suspicions. “Oh. Hello, Ms. Sterling. How are you?”
“Good. I’m on my way into the office.” Astrid held up the bag of doughnuts. “I have to say that we miss you. We were all a bit puzzled about the way you left. You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t even give any notice. It was quite a scramble before the first deadline on the Seaport project.”
All color had drained from Sandy’s face. Apparently she wasn’t used to being called out on things, but Astrid had no reason to be anything less than up front about it. “I know. It wasn’t my finest moment. I got pulled away by a second job. I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I was moonlighting a bit at the time. San Diego can be so expensive.”
“Yes, it can be. Weren’t you being paid well at Sterling?”
“I was. I definitely was. It’s just that my other employer and I have a long history.” She shifted back and forth on her feet, seeming uncomfortable. “I owed my boss a favor, and he wanted me to work on a project and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It’s a long story.”
Astrid nodded, realizing this might be as much as she’d ever learn about this. “I see. Well, I hope it all got straightened out.”
Sandy shrugged. “I ended up getting let go, actually.”
“So you left Sterling for nothing?”
Sandy nodded sheepishly. “It was so stupid.”
Astrid drew a deep breath in through her nose. “We’ve filled your position, but do you have my number? Call me if you don’t end up finding anything. Maybe there’s something we can do.”
“Thank you, Ms. Sterling. I’ll do that.”
“Sandy, do you mind me asking you what your other employer does?”
“Just more real estate development, but nothing in California. They’re based in Seattle.”
Seattle and real estate development made Astrid think of her ex-husband’s estranged brother, but surely there were a lot of companies like that in Washington state. “Well, good luck with everything. And call me if you find yourself still looking for a job.”
Astrid strode out of the bakery and made her away across the street, taking the elevator up to the Sterling offices. As was always the case, especially on a Monday morning, it was buzzing with activity. She bid her good mornings to coworkers as she filed through the maze of halls to Clay’s office. His door was open, but her heart still flipped at the thought of looking inside. Just the idea of seeing him and offering a pastry made her nervous. It wasn’t right. This was a professional setting. They were adults. She had to stop acting like a fool.
When she peeked inside, she realized that seeing him wasn’t the problem. Not seeing him was. Dammit. He’s not here yet. She stepped inside his office and flipped on the light. It wasn’t like Clay to be late for work. Astrid really hoped he hadn’t decided to resign over the weekend. He didn’t like her much, but he didn’t really hate her to that extent, did he?
She drew in a deep breath, weighing her options. She didn’t want to wait too long and appear truly desperate. The only answer was to leave the doughnuts and a note. At least if he wasn’t pleased by the gesture, she didn’t have to witness his reaction. Grabbing a piece of paper from the credenza, she scribbled out a note.
I thought you might enjoy some of your favorite doughnuts.
—Astrid
She stared at what she’d written, realizing it was all wrong. Only someone who had been very carefully watching him would know what his favorite doughnut was. This was quite possibly the stupidest idea ever. She folded up the paper, stuffed it in her pants pocket and plucked the bakery bag from his desk. Just as Clay walked in.
“Uh. Good morning?” He looked as confused as could be.
If Astrid thought her heart was misbehaving earlier, it was now up to no good, thundering away in her chest. “Good morning.” God, he looked good in his charcoal-gray suit. It was well-cut for his broad shoulders and towering stature, but Astrid had always noticed that it was a little snug on his arms. That suit couldn’t hide whatever glorious muscles were under there. It could only flaunt them.
Clay cleared his throat and walked behind Astrid to his desk. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Astrid realized that she had no choice but to come clean. “I brought you doughnuts. I know you like them.” Dead silence followed her admission, which made her feel even more stupid.
“I forgot to eat this morning, so thank you.” He set down his laptop case.
Astrid hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, waiting for a blip of positivity from him. Finally, she could exhale. She presented the bag, then remembered that they weren’t all for him. “Actually, one of those is mine.”
The smallest of smiles crossed his lips, which sent zaps of electricity through her. She immediately began conspiring, wondering what she could do next to bring about anoth
er grin. “You don’t seem like a person who would like sweets,” he said.
She opened the paper sack and fished out one of the doughnuts, then handed the bag over to Clay. “Are you kidding? Anything sweet is fun. I’m fun.” She peeled back the parchment partially wrapped around the pastry and took a big bite. Chocolate custard oozed out at the corners of her lips, but she was so overcome with how delicious it was, she didn’t care. “Wow. That is so good.”
“I know. Right?” He went in for his own taste, his eyes drifting shut for a moment.
Astrid had to steel herself as she watched the blissful look cross his face. First a smile then this. She might start buying doughnuts every day. “Did you oversleep this morning?”
“Huh?” He licked a bit of custard from his thumb, making her light-headed.
“You said you didn’t have time for breakfast.”
“No. My daughter. She wanted her hair a certain way for school and she’s not quite able to do it herself.” He wiped his hands with a napkin, then held them up. “Obviously these things aren’t good at braids or whatever it was that she wanted. I’m not sure I even know how to properly operate a barrette.”
Astrid had admired Clay’s hands from the moment she first met him in this office. They were big and strong, but deft when he showed his architectural brilliance and drafted by hand. Now that she had the wholly adorable image of Clay and his young daughter having a spat over her hair, his hands were now enticing in a whole new way. “You don’t talk about your daughter very often. How old is she? What’s her name?”
“I don’t want to talk about her at work.”
“You brought her up, not me.”
“And now I’m asking you to not talk about her.”