She looked back at Kyle. He was staring a little off into space, his expression guarded, and she could tell that the encounter had troubled him. Troubled, Kyle looked even better than he did when he was smiling.
She wasn’t going to tell him that, either.
SO THE REPORTS of his colleague’s temper hadn’t been exaggerated. Although she’d caught herself before she completely let go, Kyle had gotten a hint of what it must be like to be near one of those legendary Laura Everett meltdowns. According to Tricia and Brandi, once, when Harris had yanked control of a project from her at the last minute, she had thrown dishes across the break room. Foam coffee cups, actually, and then she’d started blushing and apologizing, but the word was out.
When they’d told him that story, over brownies in the office kitchen one afternoon, he’d tsk-tsked and shook his head. But secretly, it fascinated him. The first time he’d seen Laura, he’d gotten a flash impression of wildness, a dangerous glint in those incredible hazel eyes. Industry gossips had been eager to tell him that the highest-ranking management consultant at Harris Associates was a woman, but no one had ever said she was a beautiful woman. Even a standard-issue power suit couldn’t hide her curves, and her sleekly professional hairdo only accentuated the classic lines of her face. When she spoke, though, he was discouraged by the controlled, modulated tone of her voice and the pure-business freeze of her smile. But hearing her today brought back his first thoughts about her, and reminded him of the attraction he’d felt that day. Officially, Kyle didn’t like conflict, which might have been how he wound up dating airheads whose standard response to every question was “I don’t care, Kyle. You decide.” But a woman who cared enough to throw plates—that was interesting.
Don’t go there, Sanders. Laura, just now walking briskly past his office, photocopied papers in one hand, cell phone in another, was not ever, ever, going to be hurling discount store china around his apartment. For one thing, she loathed him. For another, she had reason to.
He wasn’t after her job, not exactly. Right now they were at the same level in the company, so if he were promoted, she wouldn’t be losing her position, but gaining a vice president. Yeah, right. Like she was really going to see it that way.
It was just a bad set of circumstances, and though he was tempted to blame Harris, he really couldn’t. Oh, hell, why not blame Harris? It would serve him right if Kyle left. He had left other jobs under much better circumstances. If there was one thing he trusted, though, it was his intuition, and killer timing. Something told him that his résumé of job hopping was starting to look a little checkered. He knew he’d been lucky with his first job at another Atlanta consulting firm. They’d given him their lowest priority assignment, restructuring an Internet service provider on the verge of bankruptcy. A few months later, his first client had gone public and the owners, friendly engineering school dropouts, had made a point of letting everyone know that Kyle Sanders was the man behind the transformation. Restless, he’d followed better offers to other consulting firms, but hadn’t stayed at any one place long enough to have an impact. He was starting to worry that he was playing a game of musical chairs. A game that would eventually leave him without a seat. He knew it could happen: he’d seen it happen to his father. Like Kyle, he was always gung ho on the next big thing, right before the jobs started drying up and he’d decided to use his MBA to play househusband.
And even if he were still willing to job hop, he liked it at Harris Associates. He liked Harris’s bluster and Tricia’s cookies and playing golf with the other guys who worked there. He liked the technology firms Harris consulted with, and he knew that their reputation was growing. He shoved aside the thought of Laura’s contributions to that reputation. She was a brilliant worker, but she didn’t have the temperament for leading a company. She was a bean counter, and bean counters, even deliriously attractive, sweet-smelling ones, weren’t good vice president material.
“Kyle?” Tricia buzzed. She sounded sympathetic. “Harris is ready to see you.”
He crossed the corridor to the executive suite, where Tricia manned a cozy reception area in front of Harris’s office. There was also an extra conference room, and next to it, a smaller empty office. Harris had let it be known that this was being saved for the future vice president. Kyle usually poked his head in to remind himself where he was going to hang his Braves schedule, but today he went straight into Harris’s inner sanctum. Laura was already seated across from Harris’s desk, while their boss stood looking out the window at the suburban office park below.
Kyle took the leather chair next to Laura, his foot hitting her in the calf as he did so. She gave him an annoyed look, and he tried not to stammer his apologies, instead giving her a quick “sorry” grin. He’d learned early in life that he was never going to be able to sit quietly, and would always fidget and squirm, leaving the space around him looking as though he’d trailed his own personal hurricane in his wake.
He’d tried to use that as an advantage, to welcome the spotlight, make it all look like one big case of “I meant to do that.” It was only when he was around Laura, not a wrinkle on her suit, not a smudge in her makeup, that he started feeling like a little kid knocking priceless knickknacks off someone’s keepsake shelf.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you here,” Kyle muttered to himself. Not to himself, obviously, because he caught a quick smile from Laura, a real one. Her eyes lit up and her face became even more beautiful. It reminded him why he sometimes poked his head in her office to share the lame jokes he’d received in the morning’s E-mail. Forty-nine out of fifty times he got the preprogrammed robot grin, but on the fiftieth he hit pay dirt.
She stopped smiling, and so did he, when he caught Harris glowering at them.
He didn’t know what he expected Harris to say. But it wasn’t what followed.
“I’ve been thinking about New Horizon,” Harris said as he turned away from the window and strode over to his desk, where he stood, looking down at them.
Hearing the name of one of their closest competitors turned Laura on instant corporate autopilot. Before Kyle could say anything, she blurted out, “They’ve managed to capture a niche in the health care consulting market, but I predict that further analysis will show a falloff in their client base.”
More glowering from Harris. Kyle tried not to betray his nervousness, consciously keeping his hands away from his tie and collar. He felt Laura shift in the seat beside him.
“What I’m about to say to you is strictly confidential,” Harris said. “I’m thinking of buying New Horizon.”
Kyle sneaked a look at Laura, who was blinking rapidly. “Their markets can only add value to our product,” she said quickly.
Smooth, Kyle thought.
“Right, Kyle?”
Right, Kyle? There was never a tape recorder around when you needed one.
“Right, Laura.” He should let her squirm a second more, but as much as he liked playing with her, he didn’t like being played by Harris. Why would their boss go ballistic on them over cake and punch and then reward them with privileged information? “That’s great news, Harris. I assume that’s what you wanted to talk to us about?”
“When I’m ready to tell you what I want to talk to you about, I’ll talk to you about it.”
Laura shifted noisily in her seat again. He was attuned to her every move, wasn’t he? It was just that he’d never seen the Ice Princess so flustered.
Kyle didn’t say anything, and although he imagined that it was an effort for her, neither did Laura. Finally Harris said, “I’m ready to talk about it.” He sat down in his oversize leather desk chair. “We have two different company cultures. They believe in in-house cooperation, not in-house competition. Walt Williams, the founder of New Horizon, believes that associates are more productive when they’re working with each other, not against each other.”
As his seven-year-old niece would say, Duh. But try getting Harris to see it that way.
“I don’t know how to say this any plainer,” Harris started.
Try, Kyle thought. Try.
“Walt and his partner Bill Brewster want to step away from day-to-day operations and serve instead as salaried consultants. If we acquire New Horizon, I have room for two VPs, not one.”
Laura found her voice before Kyle did. “Are you saying we’ll both be promoted?”
There has to be a catch, Kyle thought.
“On one condition,” Harris said.
Here came the catch.
“You two have to learn to cooperate, to work together as a team. I know you can do it, but you’ll have to overcome some pretty bad habits.”
Gee, I wonder where we got them? Kyle thought. He felt Laura visibly relax beside him, but he was only getting antsier. How was he supposed to prove that he and Laura had learned to cooperate? Even if they did learn, how was he going to share his position with someone whose view of the business world was so different from his?
“Next Thursday,” Harris continued, “I’m going to Bellamy Island with Walt and Bill to talk about the deal.”
“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Laura said.
Speak for yourself, Kyle thought. The churlish, rebellious side of him didn’t want to be cooperative. He wanted to slip his sneakers on and take a long run down one of the office park’s side streets, or go home and let the kid next door badger him into shooting some hoops at the condo complex’s basketball court. Anything but sitting here playing lapdog to Harris’s demands.
But that was the attitude that made him leave job after job, and it was also the attitude that had left his father puttering around the kitchen and garden when he should have been in the prime of his working life. So he feigned patience as Harris said, “You aren’t going. I’ve made arrangements for the two of you to go to a camp in the mountains.”
The mountains? He thought about it. Late spring in the mountains with a beautiful woman by his side. Nothing wrong with that. Except that this fantasy scenario included a beautiful woman who didn’t like him very much and a boss who had ulterior motives for sending them there. That sounded less like a fantasy than a bone-chilling campfire story.
“What do you mean, camp?” Laura asked.
Kyle had been to camp when his parents went to Mexico one summer. He’d hitchhiked out of it a dozen times before figuring out a way to make the system work to his advantage. Then he’d loved it, so much so that he’d gone back the next summer to play lifeguard while less lucky souls escorted small children into the wilderness. Could he work out something similar here? Him lounging around the pool with a Corona while Laura made crafts with macaroni pieces?
“It’s called Serene Dynamics.” Harris picked up a brochure and squinted at it. “Walt left this for me.”
“That was nice,” Laura said. Kyle and Harris both stared at her. “I mean it,” she said.
Harris continued reading. “It offers hands-on learning, hands-on team building.”
Kyle knew what that sounded like. That sounded like…
“Is this one of those places where they make you walk across log bridges and climb up the sides of cliffs?” Laura was clearly horrified.
“And play paintball,” Kyle added. She blanched.
“I don’t know the specifics,” Harris said. “But they’ve promised me they can get you two thinking as one person in less than a weekend.”
“And if they can’t?” Laura asked the question Kyle was afraid to ask.
“If they can’t, then I’m letting you both go. You’re in this together now.”
2
THE AIR OUTSIDE the car was lush with the smell of blooming flowers, but Laura had her car windows rolled up tightly against it. Every curve of the road seemed to hold yet another picturesque spot, but Laura accelerated past all of them. Her trek from the suburbs of Atlanta to the mountains of north Georgia was starting to remind her of her niece’s reaction to the Impressionists’ show at the art museum downtown: “A boat, a mountain, a garden. Let’s go, already.”
Wicked Aunt Laura had dragged five year-old Haley around the gallery a little longer, dangling promises of ice cream, but now she empathized. Flowers, trees, nature. She’d seen it, thanks, and could she go home now?
Cooperate with Kyle, learn to trust Kyle, see how the two of you can work together as a team.
Okay, she got Harris’s point. Now why didn’t they just skip this weekend get-together and get back to work? She didn’t have time for this.
But, if you don’t make time for this, you’ll have to find another job, right? Ever since she’d met Kyle Sanders, her head had been filled with circular arguments like this one, stuck in her brain like some terrible TV theme song.
Hoping that Harris would change his mind if he saw her getting along with Kyle, Laura had been beyond nice to her rival all week. That had been difficult, since she needed to be friendly without giving her adolescent-brained hormones the idea that she was getting too friendly. Finally she’d reverted to her old sorority girl persona, practically squealing and hugging him every time she saw him, whether that had been five minutes or five hours ago. Unfortunately, the devilish smile he gave her in return reminded her that he was no sorority sister.
Think of something else, Laura told herself. Consider what work still needs to be done at the office after you’ve placated Harris and kissed and made up with Kyle.
An unfortunate metaphor. Try again.
She visualized her in-box back at the office, reprioritizing all the unexciting items there. There was something to be said for boring assignments, she supposed, because after a few minutes her jangled nerves had unjangled a little, and for the first time since Harris had gone off the deep end, she felt in control.
Then a familiar vintage blue Austin Healey loomed up in her rearview mirror. She saw Kyle wave and smile, gestures that gave no indication that he knew his proximity to her car’s rear end was positively indecent. They could have had a shotgun wedding by now.
She wasn’t going to even act like she noticed. She certainly wasn’t going to speed up. Maybe she’d even decelerate a little, just to prevent herself from speeding up. Was that illegal? While she tried to remember what the Department of Motor Vehicles handbook had said to do about cute men who were deliberately tailgating you but were probably not dangerous, Kyle passed her.
On double yellow lines. To add further insult, the last thing she saw before he maneuvered around her was the car’s stupid smiling bug-eyed front. It was the perfect car for Kyle, who believed that his disarming grin allowed him to do whatever he liked.
Before she even thought about it, she had her sturdy sedan on his bumper, telling herself there was no way she could pass him, she had no idea—
But she was already flying around him, sending up fervent prayers that nothing was coming from the other side. If her life were a movie starring Sandra Bullock, she would whisk back into her own lane just as an eighteen wheeler careened around the curve, and when she passed Kyle, he would give a good old “Curses, foiled again,” Snidely Whiplash sneer.
Instead, the road remained deserted, and far from cursing her, Kyle looked like he was searching around in his seat for a cassette. He barely even nodded as she passed.
If her life were a movie starring Sandra Bullock, she decided, she wouldn’t be on this mountaintop.
A few minutes later, she spied a tastefully carved wooden sign with the words Serene Dynamics on it. The drive up to the cabin was straight out of the brochure. Gorgeous old hardwood trees and pink flowers poking up out of the native red dirt lined the road. As she’d expected, the cabin was much shabbier than the one in the brochure. But it was also a lot bigger than she’d expected. In fact, this one was plainly built for two.
Kyle had parked a few yards away from he
r and was dragging a green canvas duffel bag from his car. Either he hadn’t noticed that they were sharing an address or he just flat didn’t care. And why should he care? Men didn’t have to scrape off makeup and shave their legs and defeat pillow head and worry about whether their butts looked big in their pajamas.
Did Kyle wear pajamas? He didn’t seem like a pajama guy. He seemed a lot more like a strip-to-his-briefs guy to her. She jerked her mind away from the image of Kyle in briefs. She was just going to have to loan him her cotton robe and wear her exercise shorts under her cotton nightgown. And a bra under her nightgown, too. Heck, she should just keep her clothes on and make Kyle do the same.
Kyle? He was no longer in the small dirt driveway, and when she looked toward the cabin, she saw that he was already headed in. Not without her, he wasn’t. Knowing Kyle, a two-second lead could be the difference between sleeping on a mattress or snoozing on the authentically splintered hardwood floor. With the first sprint she’d done since fifth grade field day, Laura caught up with the ambling Kyle.
Inside the cabin they were greeted by a slimly built man in a fuschia golf shirt with the Serene Dynamics logo. His name tag identified him as Rand, and his clipboard identified him as the man in charge.
“Did you two ride up together?” he asked.
“No,” Laura said, as Kyle added, “We just happened to pull up at the same time.”
Rand nodded knowingly. “One of you saw the other on the road and took that opportunity to pass, without regard to the safety of others?”
When he put it that way…
“I’ve seen it all in situations like yours,” Rand said, waving the clipboard dismissively. “Put two insanely competitive clients on a twisting mountain road and it’s a miracle that either of them gets here alive.”
“Is that step one of the Serene Dynamics plan? To get rid of us before we get here?” Kyle asked. Laura caught the edge in his tone. He was smiling his Kyle Sanders, Regular Guy smile, but it wasn’t meeting his eyes. Clearly he didn’t like being bossed around, she realized. Not by a man with a clipboard, not by a man in a logo shirt. Interesting.
Bringing Up Baby New Year & Frisky Business Page 18