Corporate Affair (The Small Town Girl series)

by Linda Cunningham

  “I’d say you were capable of getting a good position wherever you wanted,” said Aiden. “Where did you go to school?”

  “I went to the University of Vermont for two years,” Jordan said as she faced the span of windows.

  “Then where?” Aiden said to her back.

  “Then nowhere,” she answered without turning around.

  This girl was more of a mystery than he’d thought. “Well, how did you come to work for ChatDotCom?”

  “Do we have to go there?”

  “Not if you don’t want to. All I asked was a simple question. What’s all the intrigue?”

  Aiden saw Jordan’s shoulders drop as she turned around to face him. “There’s no intrigue, okay? I came home to do an internship the summer of my sophomore year. At Chat. My job was working as Mr. Palmer’s assistant. Actually, Ashley started that same year, as a receptionist. I loved it. I loved my job. Mr. Palmer was pleased with my enthusiasm, and he taught me even more than I learned acting as an intern. He sent me to conventions and special training sessions. He said I had a real head for business.”

  “I agree,” Aiden offered. He leaned back in his chair, listening intently.

  Jordan paced in front of the windows, looking down at the floor.

  “That summer was wonderful. I really knew what I wanted to do. I went back to school in the fall, but I always came home every chance I got, for every vacation, to work with Mr. Palmer as much as I could. Then, when I went back to school after Christmas break and started the spring semester, things started to happen.” She paused and sighed.

  “Things?” prompted Aiden.

  Jordan looked agitated, hesitant to share her past with him, but she continued. “Yes. My father lost his job. My mother was working part time at the town office, but it wasn’t enough to support all our expenses. My father looked for work everywhere. He ended up getting a lot of temporary carpentry jobs, and he also mowed lawns and plowed snow for people. It’s how they managed to barely stay afloat. I started to feel real guilty about my tuition bills. I borrowed all I could, and I did have some scholarships, but it wasn’t enough. My parents borrowed money, too. And then…and then I got pregnant.” Jordan stopped short, and Aiden thought she was done talking. He waited. Finally, she sighed again. “I got pregnant,” she repeated, “so I didn’t go back to school. I knew right away I wanted that baby—Grace—and my parents said we’d manage somehow. Then I went to Mr. Palmer and told him what had happened. I thought…I thought he might blow up at me, but he didn’t. I remember the look on his face. He was shocked, I guess, at first, but he came around. Then he said he had an opening for an assistant and asked if I wanted the job. I almost cried with relief, and the salary was substantial. I could take some of the pressure off my parents. I would be able to support my baby. I took the job, and, well, here I am.” She paused and looked straight at Aiden. Her eyes shimmered with gathering tears, but she blinked them back. “And then…that’s when Mr. Palmer got sick and everything changed.”

  Aiden responded quietly, “I admire you. And as for change, sometimes we can’t avoid that. It just happens.”

  “Well, I don’t like it!” exclaimed Jordan passionately. “Change hasn’t been good for me. It’s swept the rug out from under me, and it’s made things difficult. I do the best I can, and I keep things running smoothly.”

  “It seems as though you do,” Aiden commented. He wanted to stand and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to kiss her.

  A soft knock at the door interrupted them, and Ashley came into the room. “You two have been shut up in here for so long,” she said. “You’ve got to have something to eat or take a break or something. Shall I order a pizza? It’s almost three o’clock.”

  “Oh, thank you, Ashley,” said Jordan. “We were just talking about taking a break. Actually, I want to take this to Mr. Palmer this afternoon.”

  Aiden stood and picked up his jacket. “I want to get back to the Inn and call my father to fill him in.”

  “Then no pizza?” asked Ashley.

  Jordan gave a little laugh. “No, thanks,” she said. “And you know what? By the time I get done at Mr. Palmer’s, it’ll be getting late. I’ll just go home from there.”

  Aiden immediately saw an opportunity and took it. “Why don’t you meet me at the Inn for dinner? We can discuss what Palmer and my father said then.”

  Jordan laughed so loudly Ashley jumped. “No thanks! I think I’ll be skipping dinners at the Inn for a while. I’ll just eat at home tonight.”

  “Well, why don’t we meet after—” Judiciously, he decided to rephrase his question. “Can you meet after your little girl goes to bed? That way we can probably wrap up all the loose ends tonight.”

  Jordan pondered his offer. “Where?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Anywhere you want,” he said agreeably.

  She took another moment, seeming to consider her options. “Why don’t we just meet back here at my office at, like, eight o’clock?”

  Aiden slipped his arms into his jacket and settled it around his shoulders. “Sounds good to me,” he said as he walked out the door. “See you then.”

  Chapter Seven

  AIDEN WALKED BRISKLY BACK TO THE INN, following the same route he had taken that morning. It felt good to get out and stretch his muscles. The afternoon was sunny and warm. His mind drifted to thoughts of Jordan Fitzgerald. He wished vehemently, angrily even, that he had met her under different circumstances. He wished he had met her at a friend’s house, or a party, or hell, even in the check-out line in the grocery store. She would have perceived him differently. He could have made her laugh. He could have learned more about her, more about what interested her. How did she see him, he wondered. She gave very little of herself away, and it both intrigued and frustrated him. Since he had first laid eyes on her, he had been desperate to crack that mystique, to break through that force field she surrounded herself with. Aiden knew there was depth and feeling to Jordan. He knew by the way she’d held her child. He knew by the passionate way she spoke about the business and Gene Palmer. No one with that much energy and drive didn’t burn hot. She was so young to be in her circumstances, and yet she was more intelligent than any woman he had ever been with. He was hobbled by those circumstances now, and it was messing with his mind.

  And then there was last night, when she lay sleeping in his bed, that glorious hair spilling over the pillows, her bare legs curled gracefully, and her feet peeking out from under the comforter. She had such pretty feet, Aiden thought, smiling at the memory of the long, delicately arched feet with the blush-painted nails. The ride to her house had nearly driven him crazy. Even sick, she was beautiful. All he had wanted to do was touch her. He ran his fingers through his hair and skipped up the front steps.

  Susan Noyes looked up from the front desk as he hurried by. “Good afternoon,” she said cordially.

  Aiden managed a smile. “Hi,” he said, and he climbed the stairs to his room. Once in, with the door locked behind him, Aiden lay on the bed, propped himself up against the pillows, and brooded. He wasn’t allowed this reverie for long, though. His cell phone jangled, jarring him, and he knew who it was before he looked at the screen.

  “Hello,” he groaned.

  “Aiden! Where the hell have you been?” his father roared. “I called. No answer. I left messages. No return call. What the hell! What the hell, Aiden!”

  “Are you done, Dad?” Aiden retorted.

  “Tell me what’s going on? Did you make the deal?”

  “One more meeting tonight, and I think it’s a wrap.”

  “Ha ha!” crowed the old man. “Good job, son! Good job!”

  “Well, save the celebrations for now. It’s not a done deal yet.”

  “Give me the details.”

  For the next forty-five minutes, Aiden read the proposal to his father, going over the salient points. The elder Stewart picked and prodded at some of the more lenient concessions, but in the end, he was satisfied with the docum
ent.

  “Good job,” he said again, and Aiden breathed a sigh of relief. “Now, get this thing signed and sealed tonight. We don’t want them pulling some fast one tomorrow. Any fuss from Fenton might start a corporate war we’ll wish we weren’t part of. We can’t give a chance for rebuttal.”

  “I’ll do it, Dad. We’ll get it finalized this evening.”

  “Call as soon as you’re finished.”

  “I will. Talk to you later.”

  Aiden clicked off before his father could launch into another tirade. Then he fell back against his pillows. He sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and was soon fast asleep.

  He awoke two hours later with a start, his heart beating. The room was nearly dark. He glanced at the clock; he was to meet Jordan at her office in an hour, and he was starving. Reaching for the phone next to the bed, he punched “1” for the front desk. It would be a miracle if anyone answered, he thought, but he immediately heard Susan’s voice on the other end of the line. “Front desk. May I help you?”

  “Yes, I have a meeting at eight,” Aiden replied. “Is there a place to order a pizza around here?”

  “There is, Mr. Stewart,” she said. “You can call Stoned Pizza. They’re right on your way to ChatDotCom.”

  Aiden eyes widened. How Jordan could remain so mysterious in a town like this was astounding. Or maybe they just looked after their own here. Susan supplied the restaurant’s number, and Aiden thanked her.

  “You’re welcome,” Susan said and hung up.

  Aiden punched the number into his cell phone.

  “Stoned Pizza,” a female voice said.

  “I’d like to order a large pizza. I’ll pick it up in about forty-five minutes. Onions, mushrooms, sausage.”

  “Thanks. Name?”

  Aiden gave his name and number and clicked off.

  A shower was in order. He was feeling stiff and disoriented after the unaccustomed nap. He stripped and stepped into the small shower stall, letting the hot water revive him. Half an hour later, he was in his car, dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and Nike trainers, pulling into the ChatDotCom parking lot, the still-hot pizza and a six-pack of Long Trail Lager on the seat beside him. He parked next to Jordan’s Jeep Grand Cherokee, gathered up the pizza and beer, and went to the back entrance.

  ChatDotCom worked round the clock, but after seven in the evening it was only a skeleton crew of a few technicians, a customer service supporter, and Dayton Phillips, the janitor and self-proclaimed night watchman. The steel door was locked, and Aiden pounded rather firmly on it, hoping someone would hear him before the pizza got cold and the beer got warm.

  A minute later, he heard the clicking of locks being released and the door opened. He had expected to see the green-clad custodian, but it was Jordan who stood there, in a white V-neck T-shirt, jeans, and gold-colored flats. She was smiling.

  “Come on in,” she said. “Oh, you brought sustenance! Here, I’ll help you.” She reached out and took the pizza box. “Follow me. I saw you drive in, so I let you in myself. Let me just make sure this is all locked up correctly.” She held the pizza with one hand and threw the dead bolts with the other. Then she flashed him another smile and walked past him down the hall toward her office. Aiden followed obediently.

  He watched her from behind; her walk was graceful in the flat shoes. He was aware of her square shoulders and her small, trim waist. She was obviously active, athletic even, but ample and curvy where she should be, as revealed by her slim-fitting jeans. Aiden thought it was a good thing he was carrying the beer because he had the overpowering feeling he wanted to reach out and hold her. He ached to feel those smooth hips move under his hands. He swallowed hard.

  They went into Jordan’s office. She shut the door behind her and locked it. The office seemed different at night; heavy beige drapes had been drawn across the big windows, and the overhead lights were off. None of the daily noise of doing business filtered through the big door. Lamps on the desk and the small table near the chairs lit the room dimly. Jordan set the pizza down on the low table in front of the chairs. “Have a seat,” she said.

  Aiden sat down and took a beer from the six-pack. “Help yourself to the pizza,” he said. “Do you want a beer? I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since early this morning.”

  Jordan let out an awkward laugh. “Thanks,” she said. “I had that meeting with Mr. Palmer, and by the time I got home, I had just enough time to sit down with Grace and share her sweet potato puree and prune pudding! I had a glass of milk, but I’ll gladly have a beer now.”

  Aiden hadn’t touched the beer he opened so he handed it to her and cracked himself another one. “Cheers.” He lifted his bottle, and she reciprocated.

  “Now, let’s get down to business,” said Jordan, leaning forward and opening her portfolio. “What did your father think of our agreement?”

  Before answering, Aiden took another swallow of beer. The grainy goodness of it lingered in his mouth, bolstering his confidence. “He liked it, all in all.” He opened his copy and flipped through the pages of the proposal. “There were a couple of things he wanted to go over. How about Palmer?”

  Jordan was intently looking at the papers. “He was about the same,” she replied. “There are a couple of things he wants clarified.” Aiden hardly heard her, conscious as he was of the way her neck curved and the exquisite little hollow at the base of her throat. There were random delicate curls around her forehead and ears, as though her hair, confined by the large hair clip at the nape of her neck, was struggling to free itself.

  They worked for a while, sipping their beers, compromising on the salient points. Then Aiden finally tossed down his packet. “Damn, I’m starving! I’m going to eat.”

  Jordan laughed as he tore into the pizza box and lifted out a generous piece.

  “Want some?”

  “Actually, yes, I do,” she said and reached for the pizza. Aiden handed it over to her. A few mushrooms fell from the slice she’d selected, but she scooped them up and popped them in her mouth with a childish grin. He watched, mesmerized, as she licked her fingers clean.

  “It’s probably a little cool now,” he said.

  “Oh, I love cold pizza anyway. I give the crusts to Grace to chew.”

  “Ha! I remember when my sister used to give my nephew a bagel to keep him quiet, and he would sit there, sucking it, the snot running out of his nose right over the bagel. Then my sister would wipe his nose, without taking the bagel away or anything, and the kid would just go on gumming it. I guess that’s a mother for you!”

  Jordan laughed. “That’s so funny!” she exclaimed. “I do the same thing with Grace! I take it you don’t have any children?”

  It was a bold question, as personal a question as she had asked him. Aiden looked up, taken by surprise. “No,” he answered, “not yet.”

  “Grace is my parents’ first grandchild. They take care of her during the day. It makes it easier for me to work, not having to worry about her.”

  “That’s a good arrangement,” agreed Aiden. He was sobered. The new, young mother, having to work more than full time for a man who called for her full dedication. His mother and both his sisters had been able to stay home with their children. It was a luxury he hadn’t realized before this. “Her father doesn’t participate?”

  Was it the dim light or had he actually seen her face blanch a little? “No,” she said softly. “No, he doesn’t.” She looked away. Aiden dropped the subject and searched for a new topic of conversation.

  “Do you know,” he started, struggling, “that when I asked the Inn owner where to get the pizza, she actually knew I was coming here with it? Doesn’t it infringe on your privacy to have somebody know your every move?”

  Jordan took a sip of her beer. “On the contrary. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Everybody knows everybody. Families are intermarried, and it strengthens the fabric of the community. You know who somebody really is. You know their history. You know when somebody is competent
in the job they’re being asked to do. You know who to depend on. There’s a network.”

  Aiden snorted. “Seems like it compromises the privacy of an individual to me.”

  “Well, not really,” Jordan explained. “Nobody really knows the details about what goes on behind closed doors, but the general feeling of camaraderie is there. Don’t get me wrong; people still have their problems. There’s divorce and disagreements and situations that arise, but by and large, everybody in town is his brother’s keeper, even when it’s only the tiniest bit. It makes a difference.”

  Aiden watched her; he liked how open she’d become with him. She’d become relaxed, more comfortable, and seemed to now trust him. Their eyes met, but the spell was broken as her cell phone rang. She answered it quickly, and Aiden wondered if he should excuse himself from the room. He leaned forward to stand, but she smiled and gestured with a wave of her hand that he could stay seated.

  “Hello?”

  “Jordan?” Aiden could hear Fenton’s voice booming through her phone. Jordan’s demeanor changed in an instant. She caught Aiden’s eyes, and the look on her face was not lost on him. She held the phone away from her ear, allowing Aiden to listen in.

  “This is Jordan. Mr. Fenton?” She watched as Aiden shook his head slowly back and forth.

  “Sorry to call so late. I hope you’re feeling better. I was wondering when we might get together and finalize our agreement?”

  “I’m feeling better,” said Jordan tersely. “Thank you for asking. As far as the agreement goes, I think ChatDotCom and Fenton Enterprises are too far apart for any finalization. I’m sorry, Mr. Fenton. I should have called you earlier. You shouldn’t waste your company’s time trying to acquire Chat any longer. I have a number of merger offers from smaller companies that I feel are more suited to Chat than Fenton.”

  “I’m rather shocked to hear that,” the man replied dryly. “I thought you were a smarter girl than that. You’re too young, I guess, to recognize the opportunity I’m providing. I’m sorry you don’t think it’s a good fit, but I’m not giving up. I’ll send you another proposal tomorrow. Let me know what you think. You won’t be able to turn this one down. And keep in mind, I can and will go directly to Gene Palmer.”