by Claire Adams
"You're overdressed, darling," my mother said as I sat down at the breakfast table. "Your father never would have put on airs with his employees."
"May I remind you that I'm not my father?" I replied as I helped myself to eggs and toast from the sideboard. A maid placed a cup of coffee in front of me as I sat down, and in return, I offered her a quick smile of thanks.
"Don't get fresh with me, Jackson," my mother said. "I want you to do a good job and make your father proud of you."
"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" I said as I sipped my coffee before digging into my plate of food.
"Why are you so intent on making this such a miserable experience?" my mother asked with a note of sadness in her voice.
"I don't know, Mother," I said flippantly. "Perhaps it's because I wasn't given a choice in the matter. Now I’m forced to do something I have no desire to do in order to reclaim what's rightfully mine."
"Your father never wanted to force you to do anything, Jackson," my mother said sadly. "He just wanted you to come back to the family and be a part of it again."
"Then perhaps he should have asked me rather than doing what he has always done," I said as I stood up. "Bullies never win, you know."
"Jackson …" my mother began. I looked down at her and realized that she'd aged a great deal since my father died. It was almost as if his death had sucked the life out of her as well.
"Have a lovely day, Mother," I said coolly as I walked out the door and headed to the car. I could hear her choked sobs echoing in the empty room as I opened the front door and headed for the car.
Jimmy dropped me off at the Baby Steps building on Jay Street. It was an enormous, red-brick warehouse that occupied most of the block and housed both the merchandise and the executive offices. I sighed as I looked up at the battered brick facade and the dirty windows that lined the top edge of the building next to the roof and wondered what it would take to renovate the facility to make it look more presentable. Compared to the building next door, the Baby Steps warehouse looked like a poor cousin in shabby hand-me-downs.
I walked inside and was immediately greeted by the warehouse workers who offered their condolences and told me how glad they were that I was there to take over for my father. I swallowed the lump of bitter resentment that formed in the back of my throat, and I nodded as I thanked them for their warm welcome before heading up to the offices on the second floor.
"Mr. Yates!" Norma Tatz called as I walked through the door. "It's so good to see you! My, don't you look like a biscuit covered in honey this morning!"
"Good morning, Ms. Tatz," I nodded as I walked past her desk.
"Oh honey, you don't need to be so formal with me," she said in her cheerful Southern accent. "Now that you're the boss, why don't you just call me Norma and get on with it?"
Norma was originally from St. Charles Parish just outside of New Orleans, and she always threw out some Southern-flavored observation. She was a short, compact woman who looked like she had been built to withstand a hurricane, both in body and in hair. She meticulously maintained her personal appearance through the heavy use of hairspray and cosmetics, the smell of which entered a room long before she did. She was cheerful, but tough, since she had always been the boundary between my father and everyone who wanted a few minutes of his time. As a child, she had intimidated me, but as an adult, I could see how useful her honeyed tone and iron will could be.
"All right, Norma," I said as I dredged up a smile and tried to make it look like I was happy to be there. If I was going to survive this tenure at Baby Steps, I was definitely going to need Norma on my side. "I'd like to look at the financials for the past five years and then find out what projects my father was planning for the next year."
"It's all on your desk, darlin'," Norma chirped. "I was fixin' to get the ten year financials, but then thought that might be overdoing it."
"Thank you, Norma," I said, bowing my head slightly as I turned toward the office. On the desk, in neat stacks, were all the documents I'd asked for and then some. Norma had thought ahead and given me everything that she thought I might need in order to understand the business, and as the morning wore on, she continued to add to the piles.
By lunchtime, I'd read through most of what she'd given me and had a pretty clear understanding of where the company had been and where it was headed. My father had been an exceptional businessman and had entrusted a great deal of the day-to-day operations to the woman who ran the warehouse. It became obvious to me that if I was going to truly understand what was going on, I would have to work closely with her until I was up to speed.
"Norma!" I called from behind my desk. "Can you get Leah Walsh up here to talk about the warehouse?"
"She'll be here in ten minutes, darlin'!" Norma called back as the phone rang, and she answered it. I could hear her talking with someone she obviously knew well, as she tossed in a few "Sure thing, sugars" before hanging up.
At that moment, I realized that if I played my cards right, I might not have to do a whole lot of work. If my father had trained and entrusted all of his employees the way he'd done with Norma, then this company might just be able to run itself while I functioned as a figurehead, at least until we found a suitable CEO. I smiled as I plotted the ways in which I'd be able to escape the office for a few rounds of golf and have some leisurely lunches with a few of the beautiful New York socialites I'd met on my travels.
"This might not be as bad as I thought it would be," I murmured to myself. "I can manage this."
"Hopefully I can make it a little easier for you, Mr. Yates," Leah Walsh said as she entered my office.
I looked up and saw the pretty little blue-eyed girl I'd kissed at my father's wake standing in the doorway holding a clipboard and offering a warm smile. I had no idea how old she was, but I guessed her to be midway to thirty. At the wake her hair had been pulled up into a severe ponytail. But now the long dark waves framed her face and with the splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks, she looked even prettier than I had remembered. Her face looked friendly, but her body knocked it out of the park. Unlike most of the women I'd met on my travels, Leah was shorter and much curvier. I could see the outline of her figure under her warehouse uniform and it quickly reminded me of the few moments I'd held her soft body against my own. I quickly shifted my gaze back to her face as she crossed the room,
"I'm Leah Walsh," she said as she held her hand out.
"It's nice to see you again, Ms. Walsh," I said as I stood and shook her hand. She didn't say anything about the moment we'd shared at the wake which left me wondering if she remembered it.
"It's nice to see you again, too, Mr. Yates," she said, still smiling. "But please, call me Leah. Your father did."
"Well, Leah," I said as I looked down into her bright-blue eyes and returned the smile. "Then you'll need to call me Jack."
"All right, Jack," she said as she looked down at her clipboard and then back up at me. "Would you like to tour the facility with me?"
"I'd love to, Leah," I said as I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair. "I'll follow you."
It took a lot of control not to let my gaze settle on the gentle sway of Leah's hips as she led me to the warehouse, and even more control not to let the images I had of how it had felt to kiss her play in my mind.
CHAPTER TEN
Leah
I could feel Jack's eyes on me as I led him through the warehouse and explained the various points of operation. I wasn't sure if he was sizing me up as part of his team or if he viewed me as someone who would be an obstacle.
I had done a bit of research on him when I'd found out that he would be taking over for his father, and I found that he had a reputation as an international playboy. What I read about him made it hard for me to take him seriously as a businessman who would run Baby Steps the way his father had—responsibly.
"Over here is the shipping and receiving area," I said, pointing to the offices in the back of the warehouse w
here a group of workers were boxing orders that had been gathered from the shelves.
"So, what exactly is it that we do differently from the competition, Leah?" Jack asked as he looked around. His face registered a low level of interest and a high level of boredom, and I felt resentful that I was taking time away from my duties to show him the ropes. I felt even more resentful that I found myself wanting to stare at him, and more than that, I wanted to ask him if he remembered kissing me in the parking lot at the wake.
Jackson Yates was a man who drew attention. He was taller than his father had been and had broader shoulders. And whereas Bernard had had a stern but warm face, Jack's face radiated an intense sensuality that made him impossible to ignore. His thick, brown hair was long enough to make girls want to run their fingers through it, and his facial hair had been trimmed just close enough for him to appear groomed, but rugged. His eyes were a warm shade of brown, highlighted by gold flecks, and they radiated an intensity that made it difficult to look away. I felt angry with him for being so handsome and so hard to read.
"We offer high end baby products that are ecologically responsible and ethically made," I said as I walked him back to the part of the warehouse where the products were stored. Bernard Yates had made sure that everything in our inventory was something that improved the lives of the people making it and the lives of the people buying it. I stopped and turned around to look at him as I continued, "But I'm sure you already knew that, didn't you?"
"Leah, I know very little about my father's business," Jack said. I held his gaze longer than I needed to, but I couldn't look away. I cursed myself silently as a slow smile spread across his lips, and he added, "But anything you want to tell me is something I'd like to hear."
"We do our own packaging and mailing using Earth-friendly products," I said as I tried to turn the conversation back to the business. "It's been quite profitable, and it's given the company good press. I think we've garnered more business as a result."
"Do you now?" Jack said very close to my ear. Startled, I jumped. My head hit something hard, and I heard him cry, "Oh fuck!"
"Oh my gosh, Mr. Yates … Jack, are you okay?" I asked as I turned and saw him holding a hand over his nose as blood slowly dripped out from between his fingers. "Oh no! You're bleeding!"
"No shit, Sherlock," he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stanch the bleeding. I ducked into the nearest bathroom and cursed softly as I realized that we no longer had paper towels in our bathrooms. I rushed out and headed down the hall yelling, "Hold on, I've got something to help!"
In the lunchroom, I grabbed a towel from the dish rack where employees left their lunch dishes after washing them and raced back down the hall to where Jack stood holding his nose and looking up at the ceiling.
"Here, use this," I said, shoving the towel at him. "It should help catch the blood."
Jack took the towel and held it over his nose as I led him down the hall to the lunchroom. There was blood all over the front of his suit, and I felt compelled to try and clean it up. I grabbed another towel, ran it under the faucet, and then dabbed at the blood on his dress shirt.
"It's coming out," I said as I slipped my fingers between the buttons and blotted the stains. I could smell Jack's musky cologne, and as my fingers grazed his chest, I suddenly felt a little lightheaded. I looked up and found him smiling down at me with a lazy grin that simultaneously made me weak in the knees and pissed off at his arrogance.
"You're doing a great job, Leah," he purred in a way that made me think of big cats stalking their prey. I, however, had no intention of being Jack Yates's next prize.
"Here, you can finish it up," I said holding the towel out and backing away.
"Don't you want to finish what you've started," he said in a low voice that made me shiver a little.
"No, I think you can handle the rest," I said, shaking my head and backing up toward the door. I was acutely aware of the fact that the warehouse staff was due to walk through the door at any moment, and I didn't want to be caught in anything remotely resembling a compromising position. I'd worked too hard to earn the respect of my staff. To have them think that I was currying favor with the new boss was not the way to ensure loyalty or respect.
"C'mon, Leah," Jack said with a grin. "You know you want to."
"Mr. Yates," I said in a voice that cut through the flirtation. "You are a grown man who is perfectly capable of removing stains from his own suit. If you have trouble doing that, I'd be happy to recommend a reputable cleaner who can do it for you, but I'm not the maid. I believe our tour is over, so if you have any other questions, I'll be happy to answer them, and if not, then I have a warehouse to run."
"No, that'll do," he said coolly, as he dipped the towel under the faucet and dabbed at his suit.
I nodded before turning and walking out the door. Once in the hallway, I walked a few steps and then leaned heavily against the wall. I tried to catch my breath as I realized that I had not only rebuffed Jack Yates, I'd put my new boss in his place. I wasn't sure how this was going to play out, but I crossed my fingers and hoped that this was enough to keep him at a safe distance. I had my doubts.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jack
Once I'd stopped my nosebleed and cleaned the blood off of my suit, I went back to the office where I found Norma sitting at her desk eating a sandwich as she sifted through a pile of papers and sorted them into smaller piles.
"What on earth happened to you, hon?" she exclaimed as I walked through the door. "You look like a drowned opossum!"
"You should see the other guy," I said with a wry grin.
"No, seriously," she repeated holding the sandwich halfway between the plate on her desk and her mouth. "What happened to you?"
"Minor accident," I muttered as I quickly moved toward my office. "Don't get your panties in a bunch."
"Hon, I assure you that my panties have never ever been in a bunch," Norma said as she put her lunch down and picked up a stack of papers, following me into my office. She shoved them at me as she said, "Well, if you're okay, then you need to deal with these people who have been calling."
"Who are they?" I asked as I took the stack and began shuffling through the sheets.
"Delivery people, inventory trackers, bank representatives," she rattled off. "Your father was in the middle of renegotiating some of the contracts when he passed. So, some of these people are hanging in midair."
"I see," I said as I continued shuffling through the papers. I quickly realized that despite the fact that I had built a business based on developer apps, and made a lot of money selling my own technology, I really had no idea what it meant to run a business. My company had been in its infancy when I’d sold it to a mega-tech company that was now using it as a test lab for their own app development, so I'd never spent any time actually running the business.
I didn't have a clue how to negotiate contracts or deal with bank loans. All of this fell way outside my realm of experience.
"What the hell was he thinking?" I muttered as I looked over the paperwork and tried to figure out who I could ask for help.
"You have a visitor, Mr. Yates," Norma said in a formal tone that made me look up, confused. I looked up to find Sloan standing in the doorway smiling at me.
"Good to see you again, Jack," she said as she crossed the room. Both Norma and I watched her, mesmerized by her fluid movements and undeniable beauty. She was wearing a grey jersey dress that wrapped around her body like it had been made for her, and it probably had been. I looked at Norma and nodded as Sloan took a seat in one of the worn chairs across from my desk. Norma bowed out and shut the door behind her.
"How have you been, Sloan?" I asked as I eyed her warily.
"I've been good, but the question is how are you?" she asked, smiling serenely.
I had known Sloan since we were in high school. She'd been the first girl to show me any kind of attention, the first one to crack open my outer wall of defensiveness, and
the one who'd taught me all about the mysteries of the fairer sex. She'd also been the one who had stomped on my heart when she'd told me that whatever we shared would be over once we both went off to college in the fall.
I loved her in the way a teenage boy loves his first love, but she'd been far more practical and realistic than I'd been, and I knew that the likelihood of us maintaining our relationship while she was at Stanford and I was at MIT was pretty slim. Looking back, she'd done me a favor by ending it when she did, but the pain of being rejected still stung a bit. Even after fifteen years.
"I've missed you, Jack," she said as she flashed me the smile that had first hooked me. "It's been too long."
"We just saw each other at the wake," I said, trying to sound casual as I swallowed and looked down at my desk. I hated that she still had this effect on me, but there was nothing I could do about it. Being around Sloan was like taking the best drug ever, and when she smiled, it felt like the whole world opened up and anything was possible. "What have you been up to?"
"Oh, a little of this and a little of that," she said as she tipped her head and watched me carefully. "I ran my father's Beijing operation for a while and then came back to the states when he hired one of his golf buddies to do his bidding."
"That must have been a downer," I said, knowing that the relationship between Sloan and her father had been almost as contentious as the one I'd had with mine. That was part of the reason we'd bonded in the first place.
"It wasn't an uplifting feeling," she laughed softly. "But you know how it goes …"
"Why are you here?" I asked bluntly. I knew that if I didn't cut to the chase quickly, I would be tempted to allow myself to be caught up in the fantasy of Sloan's world again, and I could feel my body responding to her presence even when I was actively reminding myself of the ways in which she'd rejected me.