by James Tayler
"How are you feeling today?" he asked after they had taken their seats.
"I'm excited to be here," she replied.
"I'm glad to hear it." His smile wavered slightly. "Now there is something I want you to know about Bill before you get too far into the day."
"What is it?" she asked nervously. Was there something wrong with him? He seemed like such a nice down to earth guy.
"Bill was Infantry during Vietnam."
"Oh," Alex replied unintelligently. She didn't know what else to say. A lot of men Bill's age had been in Vietnam.
"He served two tours, and though I haven't heard many details I know he was captured by the Vietcong and held as a POW for eight months."
Alex felt her jaw drop slightly. The little Alex knew about Vietnam was that you didn't want to be a POW. They were tortured and abused, and starved because they Vietcong had never heard of things like the Geneva Conventions. Bill had gone through hell.
"I just wanted you to be aware of that, so you know not to mention Vietnam. Once, shortly after we were both hired, I gave him a book about it because all the man does is read history books and work here. He politely took it, but he was not comfortable. I called one of his sisters later that day and they told me about his war experiences. I don't want you to do what I did. Bill is a complicated man, even though he doesn't seem it at first glance. Don't mention Vietnam."
"No problem, I don't know much about it. My parents specialize in Civil War and Reconstruction, and the Industrial Revolution in America. You want to know about the progression of machine work in American industry I'm your girl."
Chapter3
"Good," he said with a sigh of relief. "I actually screened out applicants with significant military history expertise, just to be on the safe side. Not that it would have effected the outcome. Bill gravitated to you right away."
Alex couldn't believe her ears. "Really?"
"Oh, yes! I've been trying to convince him to hire a Collections Manager for years now, but he wouldn't hear of it. I finally tell him he's going to hire one and give him a stack of resumes. He came up here with yours and said 'This one' and walked back out. I think you remind him of himself: smart, driven, and organized. Your resume may have been short, but it's impressive. You graduated A&M Galveston with a 4.0. Then, you went straight into graduate school at Texas Tech for Museum Science, and got stellar grades there. Your practicum choices were impressive; your work study projects were well rounded. Plus you had great references."
"Thanks." Alex mumbled. "I worked hard, that's all."
"And that is why we like you. Skill with humility. It's like I'm always telling my cats: You may be able to walk the walk, but you don't need to talk the talk."
Alex laughed. Of course Allen was a crazy cat man.
"I guess you've got some high expectations I've got to live up to."
Allen shook his head. "Not at all. You always do your best, and we'll be happy. We aren't expecting you to be the next Bill Salvitore. Well Bill might, but there you go."
Alex didn't know how to take that, but she smiled back at Allen anyway.
The two of them spent another hour going over payroll information, filling out paperwork, walking through the security system, and looking at pictures of Allen's cats. They were a bunch of cuties! He had six...
Allen sent her back downstairs to the collections room. Alex accidentally took a right in the Basque gallery and ended up in the Range War gallery which was not anywhere near the stairs to the basement. It took her a few minutes longer than it should have, but she managed to get back to her office. Bill chuckled when she came in.
"Turning right in the Basque gallery gets you lost every time."
Alex gapped at him.
Bill turned the monitor to reveal live feeds of the security systems. "If you hadn't found your way, I would have come to get you, don't worry."
Alex blushed slightly. "This place is bigger than it looks from the outside."
"That it is," Bill said as he turned the monitor back. "I've got one more email and then we'll get started."
"Are you glad you have a Collections Manager now?"
Bill glanced over his reading glasses. "Did Allen tell you I didn't want one? It's true I didn't, but now I like the idea of getting to do more research and exhibit content design. You can take care of my things."
"Your things?" Alex asked.
"The collection," he explained. "I call them my things. They are very important to me. If there hadn't been a person I would trust with my things in that stack of resumes Allen gave me, I wouldn't have chosen one. Don’t worry, Alexandra, I have complete faith in you. Plus, you know how those barcode things work. I've wanted to barcode everything for years and now we can!"
Alex sat down at her desk, smiling from ear to ear. She immediately pulled up web information about buying the equipment for setting up barcoding systems for museum collections. It was something she had always wanted to try.
Bill and Alex spent the rest of the day going over how the collections room was organized. Everything was grouped by is Chenal Nomenclature classification. Alex had never seen such an orderly collections room. Everything had its place. Bill showed her the paper files that had donor, research and object files. Alex was given copies of example condition reports, and catalog sheets in order to see how to fill them out in the future. Bill showed her the Past Perfect database that she would be in charge of. He shamefully admitted that he was not very good with the database or photography, but he had been limping along for years. Alex's head was already buzzing with idea about how to make it better.
The three of them went to lunch leaving Aida, the front desk worker, in charge of the museum. They talked about the history of the region, things Alex and Bill hoped to get done in the collections room. Allen even took down notes in his phone so he could look into pricing barcoding equipment, and a high quality digital camera. This was what Alex had dreamed her first day would be like. Allen was the kind of director who had his finger on the pulse of the museum, but refused to micro manage. Bill was one of the best curators in the country, who seemed excited to have someone around to take care of his things, so he could focus on research. Alex hoped she could live up to their standards and be a great Collections Manager in her own right.
After an afternoon of exploring the galleries on her own, picking out a desk, and researching how to set up a photography area, Alex peddled back to her apartment with the basket on her bike filled with history book Bill had lent her. She chained her bike up and ran up the stairs. A dizzy spell greeted her at the top, so she had to sit down on the top step. Pete came in the door right after she sat down.
"Hey, Tex," he said automatically, as he checked his mail.
"Hey," she breathed, still dizzy and winded. Altitude was a bitch.
Pete kicked into cop mode. "Are you alright.?"
"Me?" Alex breathed. "Yeah, I'm from sea level."
He climbed the stairs and sat down next to her.
"You have no idea," she replied. "I'm a runner. I tried to go for a run this morning and didn't even make it a quarter of a mile."
"I'm a runner too! I can help train you back up to your best. We'll have you running the summer Braxton 10k in no time."
Alex nodded. "Thanks."
Pete got to his feet and helped Alex up. "In the meantime, take an aspirin. They help with altitude sickness."
"I don't have aspirin."
"I'll lend you my bottle. Come on, neighbour."
Alex followed Pete to his apartment which was across the hall from hers. His apartment was very Spartan. He had what he needed and nothing else. Alex didn't know if that was from being a cop or from being a guy. They chatted while he dug out his aspirin.
"So how do you like the new job?" Pete called from the bathroom.
"I love it!" Alex gushed. She quickly told him about how awesome her first day was.
Pete laughed. "I didn't understand half of what you said, but it sounds like you are ha
ppy."
"Museums do have their own language, I'll give you that."
"What are your plans for tonight?"
"Um, I was going to read one of these books Bill lent me. I've got a lot to learn about the region."
"You are going to read?" Pete asked in disbelief, exiting the bathroom.
"Yeah," she answered slowly. "What's wrong with reading?"
"Not very exciting."
Alex held up one of the books. "I'll have you know that I'm actually looking forward to reading about General Crook's Wyoming campaign. I don't know much about Western history. Plus my internet doesn't get hooked up until Friday afternoon."
"That's four days from now!"
"Yay, the cop can do math!" Alex joked.
"How about a movie night? We can see if anyone else wants to join us. You can read some other time."
"I don't watch a lot of movies. My parents were academics who thought television was bad for a person's mental acuity."
"I LOVE movies!" Pete exclaimed. He walked into his living room, gesturing for her to follow. Alex hadn’t iced his gigantic movie selection last night. What she didn't know was how proud he was of his collection. "I have all my favourites! Movies are a universe unto themselves, like books, but with awesome special effects."
"I have nothing against movies. I just haven't seen that many."
Pete tossed her the bottle of aspirin, almost making her drop her books. "That is about to change, my friend. That is about to change."
One month into her new job and Alex couldn't have been happier. Her new desk and chair had arrive meaning the folding table could be moved to the new photography area that she had set up complete with lights, a white sheet, a photography size and colour scale, and little letter and numbers for putting in the accession numbers. The new camera and tripod had also arrived. The barcode reader and software addition was due any day now!
Bill was always at the museum before her and left after her. He was not married, and had no children. His true love was his things and the museum. At the moment he was hard at work researching a new exhibit on Native American ledger art from a collection that had been donated to the museum a few years before. Library books were piled on the floor next to his desk, and Alex had shown him some useful websites for him to use. He sat there chewing on his lower lip, deep in thought for hours. Alex didn't know if she had ever seen anyone so happy, especially since their office was in a windowless basement.
THE END
BILLION DOLLAR HEARTTHOB
(FREE BOOK )
EXCERPT:
Adam bent his head to her firm breasts and sucked first one nipple, then the other. She moaned and cupped his head in her hands. Exerting pressure, she guided his head down further, over her belly, until his face was nestled between her legs. His tongue delved into her and moved over her in long, languid strokes as he enjoyed the taste of her.
“Ooohh, yes Clint, yes, that’s it, right there, that’s the place….” She said, encouraging him. When his tongue centered on her clit her hips jumped and she released his head and gathered the bed sheet into her hands, twisting it as he continued to suck her.
“Og, God!” she moaned, as his tongue began to lash out at her. Flicking over her, bringing her closer and closer to climax, again.
“Op,” she pleaded, groping for him, “up, please, I need you in me….”
He mounted her then and thrust into her, and she exploded beneath him, writhing as if she were trying to get out from under him, and at the same time closer to him….
BILLION DOLLAR HEARTTHR0B
The Job Hunt.
Judy Garret toyed nervously with her braid as she waited in her age old Honda Civic on the driveway leading to the big mansion. She had arrived a few moments late, but Clint Adam wasn’t at home. She had spoken with the elderly housekeeper on the intercom at the gate, and had been asked to wait outside. Paranoia was running high….which, she decided, was good under the circumstance.
Another ten minutes had passed, and Clint Adam still hadn’t shown up. Staring at the closed security gate, Judy prayed that he hadn’t made other arrangements. After all she had gone through to get Justin Tarr, at the employment agency that would be the last straw.
Judy was absolutely determined to make it as a personal aid. The excitement of the job appealed to her. Since the job in question was something in line for a male with a lot of muscle. True, a lot of work was routine and sheer drudgery, but the payoff was there, and that’s what she lived for.
Judy understood the billionaire mentality and knew what to expect. Besides, with any luck, Clint Adam would be off most of the time, leaving his little daughter in her care. The first order of business, though, was to land the job.
Sighing wearily, Judy looked at the view that extended from the lake to the high rise of the hills. Clint Adam’s palatial house sat on the very top of a hill offering a spectacular vista of the entire lake.
The palatial house itself was fairly new, probably built by Adam himself. It was continental in style, with a red-tiled roof, the house was sparkling white and the roof was covered with aqua tiles. The sweeping lawn was studded with royal palms. Next to the house were beds planted with flowering shrubs.
Judy looked at her watch again. Adam was over half an hour late. Not a good sign. During the drive from the agency office, she’d given herself a pep talk, but now she was having doubts. Maybe she was desperate …..Too desperate to hide it.
Adjusting her sunglasses, she glanced into the side mirror. There was still no sign of any vehicle. Was she going to be disappointed by Adam?
Impatiently Judy got out of the car, flipping her braid over her shoulder as she leaned against the fender, and glanced down the road in the direction he would have to come. She smoothed the front of her dress. Its hem was well above her knees and the neckline was low enough to reveal a little cleavage. Usually she preferred pants for working, but her mother had insisted that sex appeal was essential where the rich were concerned. Judy didn’t like the idea, but she deferred to her mother’s familiarity with how egotistical the rich were likely to think.
Judy folded her arms under her breasts and ran her eyes over the gate and high wall surrounding Adam’s property. The wall was obviously designed to turn away the curious, the stargazers, and the tourists. But it wasn’t much of a deterrent to someone determined to get inside.
Just as she glanced at her watch again, she heard a car coming up the road, a flash of sunlight reflected off the windshield; she saw the sheen of silver paint and chrome. It was a Jaguar Sedan, and it was moving fast. She figured it was him.
Her stomach muscles tightened as she stood upright; the car slowed, finally stopping across the road at the gate she’d been watching. The driver looked her way momentarily, then punched his code into the automatic security panel, and the gate swung open.
Judy got her purse from the car and started walking across the road. Before she reached the gate, it closed. The Jaguar moved on up the long drive to the palatial house and the man behind the wheel got out. He turned and looked toward her, seeming to hesitate for a moment.
“Mr. Adam!” she called.
He put his hands on his hips as though he were undecided, then began daunting back down the drive. The sunlight reflected off his pure white shirt. Even though he had on large dark glasses, Judy could tell that it was in fact Clint Adam.
His face was familiar, though even more handsome in real life than on the screen. Adam had done a few very successful western movies and his fame had blossomed spectacularly in the last couple of years in a television series. He was a highly rated star now.
As she watched him near her, she could see that Adam was taller than she’d expected. He had one of those elegant male bodies associated with athletes and swimmers. His face was largely obscured by his dark glasses, but Judy knew from pictures she had seen that he had beautiful eyes, great cheek bones and a long narrow nose that gave his face an aristocratic air.
But it wa
s his wide, wry mouth that saved him from being too handsome. In every role she had seen him in there had been a mocking, vaguely naughty irreverence in his smile that said he didn’t take things too seriously. And it was his smile that drew her as she neared the closed gate.
She felt her heart begin to race as he came up to her, and she wasn’t quite sure why, unless it was nerves.
Adam ran his fingers back through his dark auburn hair, his mouth grew wider. Though there was an air of friendliness about him, Judy didn’t think of him that way.
“Got a pencil?” he asked before Judy could speak.
“A pencil?” She was caught off guard by the question
“Yeah, something to write with.” He patted the pocket less front of his silk shirt.
“I don’t have anything.”
Judy swung her purse off her shoulder and dug around until she found a ballpoint pen. She handed it over. Adam’s mouth twisted with amusement, “I’ll need something to write on,” he said, his hand poking toward her through the bars.
“Do I look like a secretary?” she snapped before she’d managed to squelch the comment. She sucked in her breath and watched him carefully, but there was no way to discern his reaction to her comment. His eyes were completely obscured by the tinted lenses of his glasses. She pulled an old grocery list from her purse and handed it to him, waiting to see what was next.
He turned the paper over and began writing. Then, as he looked up, his smile broadened…from the way his head moved, Judy could tell he was scanning her body. He handed everything back through the bars, his teeth gleaming.