It might be a little bit of a problem, she admitted to herself, but she imagined that her soothing bath could wait a few more minutes.
“Not a problem,” she said with a shake of her head. “Are you ready to go?”
He gestured over his shoulder to the conference room. “Just another minute. You want to come with me?”
She offered a sardonic smile to Margaret. “Duty calls.”
They walked nearly halfway to the conference room before Richard turned his attention to her. “I wondered if you’d headed to the restroom. I guess I wasn’t the only one to have that thought.”
Cindy didn’t respond.
Richard’s voice was low. “Does she threaten you like that often?”
Cindy watched her coworkers walk past, eyeing them closely. Though she knew she could trust Gillian and a couple of others, some of the other employees had serious loyalties to Margaret, and she didn’t want to try and determine who was a safe enough person to hear this conversation right now.
“Some days are better than others. Today was not one of the better days.”
He nodded in understanding.
“Look, I know that’s not what you were expecting to see, but it’s fine,” she said as they reached the conference room. “Just let it go. That’s what the rest of us do.”
He stared at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. “Let it go? Her behavior was unprofessional and inappropriate. How am I supposed to just let it go?”
Cindy grimaced. “Look, Margaret has a tendency to make things worse for people who don’t just—let her do her thing.”
Richard grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her closer. “Worse how?”
It was as if he knew that what she had to share was something fairly secretive, and he pulled her close so she could whisper appropriately.
She bit her lip. She saw Margaret head to her office. “Are you almost ready to go?”
Richard seemed to notice where her gaze went, and he nodded. “Let me grab my things, and I’ll be good to go soon.”
RICHARD VENTURED A sideways glance in Cindy’s direction as they walked out to the car. “You’ve done a lot of chauffeuring today. How do you feel about that?”
“It broke up the umpteen coffee runs Margaret likes to make me take.” She cringed as she heard the sarcasm coloring her voice.“I’m sorry. I’m tired which means I’m a little more cranky.”
He offered her a look that silenced her shame. “If I was treated the way I saw you get treated just then, I’d be a little cranky too.”
She pressed the button on the key fob to unlock the door. “Yeah, well my mother thinks I have no self-respect or I wouldn’t still be here.”
Richard opened the car door for her. “What do you think?”
She smiled her thanks as she slid into the front seat. Even though it was cold in the parking garage, she appreciated that Richard stayed beside her for a moment to hear her answer. “I think I like paying my bills.”
Her thoughts turned back to her mother, clearly lonely in the rambling house with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was far too much house for the poor woman, and if she was any kind of real daughter, she would end her own misery and move back home. “My mom would welcome me back into the family house, but I don’t really want to give up my freedom.”
She felt a tug at her heart strings. Every time she admitted that, to herself or out loud, she felt an intense guilt that she was being selfish. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad if she would just bite the bullet.
“I can understand that.”
He hurried around to the other side and sat beside her in the passenger seat. “You know, although it was her idea, I wouldn’t say no to a light dinner like Margaret suggested.”
Cindy rolled her eyes, but he interjected before she could continue. “And it would be my treat, not yours like Margaret suggested.”
She smiled her appreciation. “Thanks.”
“So, is that a yes?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
She bit her lip. “Honestly? It’s not even a little bit touristy, but I could really go for takeout and a bubble bath.”
He grinned. “I can do the takeout, but I think HR might have a few things to say about me offering my hotel room for your bubble bath.”
She giggled. “Would they ever!”
“Think of a place that has good takeout, and we’ll order from my room,” he said as he looked over at her. “If you take yours to-go, I won’t complain since it gives me an extra thirty minutes with you, deal?”
She swallowed as she looked back at him. “What about Mr. Fortescue?”
“What about him?”
“He seemed to think that I was overly interested in spending time with you.” She turned her eyes to the road.
“So that’s where the idea that I flirt with every woman I meet came from.”
She flinched.
He rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous. “That’s not what you think it’s about. It’s, uh, it’s more about how much he wants to protect me than about you.”
The muscles at her jaw tightened with hurt that Richard seemed to disregard her concerns. “What does he think he’s protecting you from?”
He offered her an apologetic smile as they pulled into the hotel parking lot. “Anyone who could break my heart. He doesn’t trust my taste in women. And given the last time I had what someone could term an office romance, he might not be wrong about that.”
“What about the hearts of the women he accuses? Don’t they have a right to live their lives without their boss’s boss’s boss assuming that they’re just working to try and nab a successful guy?”
He offered her a sad smile as she parked the car just outside the hotel’s lobby entrance. “Of course. Unfortunately, they’re not the people Alastair Fortescue is interested in protecting right now.”
Cindy studied him for a moment, wishing that she could shake this feeling that something wasn’t right. Maybe it was just her compulsive need to please any authority figure in her life. Maybe it was the idea that Richard had to be too good to be true.
“I think I’ll take a raincheck on the takeout,” she said after a moment.
He nodded as if he had read the writing on the wall. “Enjoy your bubble bath.”
“Enjoy your takeout,” she said with a smile as he stepped out of the car. “Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow morning?”
He shook his head. “I’ll just hire a car service. I’m sure Mr. Fortescue would feel more comfortable with that.”
Though Cindy was sure Margaret would have something to say about that decision, Cindy was grateful for the change. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Who’s the next interview?” Richard asked as someone left the conference room.
Cindy consulted the schedule at her elbow and the clock at the bottom right-hand corner of her laptop screen. “No more interviews until after lunch.”
Ten minutes after Richard had arrived with Mr. Fortescue, they had been shuttling people to and from the conference room while trying to catch a moment or two where they could review the schedules for the coming days. That with the many phone calls which Margaret had hoped to make to prospective authors so she could offer them a personal holiday greeting had kept Cindy hopping so much she hadn’t even had a chance to enjoy one of the Krispy Kreme donuts which Richard had brought in.
Fortunately, he had opened the box for her to select a donut before he placed them on the counter in the break room. After a day like today, she had to admit her immense gratitude for the maple bar even though it sat completely untouched on her desk.
“Lunch?” Richard checked his watch with a shake of his head. “That flew by.”
Cindy gathered together several sheets of paper from off her desk and stacked them in a neat pile. She’d worry later about how they were organized. “It usually does when you have the most to do.”
“Fair enough. Where should we go?”
“Yeah. I’m still new here. I don’t know where the locals like to eat.” The twinkle in his eye made her smile. She had a feeling he could figure out how to feed himself with a few tips, but after working side-by-side with him today, she found herself less willing to fight her attraction to him.
Not after he had personally taken it upon himself to dial not one but a handful of Margaret’s phone calls for her while she got a needed break to collect the next interviewed employee. She just wished that they actually had time to go anywhere for lunch.
Cindy scooted her chair back. “Well, where the locals like to eat is a bit closer than you think.”
“Oh?”
She grimaced as she reached into her bottom drawer and pulled out a slender plastic sandwich container. She showed him the chicken salad sandwich she had put in it just that morning. “This is lunch.”
Richard’s brow furrowed as if the idea of eating lunch at his desk was incomprehensible. “If you’re saving up for something, I guess I should tell you now that it was going to be my treat.”
Cindy blushed. That was the second time in two days he’d offered to buy her a meal. Either she was too skinny or she looked like she was broke. “No. It’s not that I can’t afford it.”
“Then, what is it?”
Cindy motioned with her head to the conference room. “Well, your only job right now is setting up the interviews, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Mine is to man the phones while everyone else is at lunch, make the appointments Margaret has lined up, file the contracts that we’ve already received from the authors we’re lining up for next year’s catalog, and set up the interviews with you.”
She made a place for her sandwich on the desk beside her. “That’s in addition to whatever Margaret decides she wants me to do. Sometimes, I’m able to work it so I can take a quick lunch with a friend, but usually, I’m right here.”
She removed the lid from her sandwich container. “Eating my lunch while I work.”
“You do realize there are laws in place to protect your right to a thirty-minute lunch break, right?”
He sat back down and leaned in toward her with an earnest look in his eye. “You do realize that she can’t ask you to work through your lunch break. It’s literally against the law.”
Cindy shrugged. “That may be what the law says, but the truth is that she doesn’t ask me to do this. She just makes my life miserable in other ways if I don’t.”
“And have you ever reported it? Have you ever told my—I mean, Mr. Fortescue that this is what was going on?”
He immediately amended his statement. “The old Mr. Fortescue obviously. Before the heart attack.”
How could this man be both as naive and savvy as he was?
“Do you really think that with the number of contracts Margaret brings into the firm that Mr. Fortescue would pay even the slightest attention to me?”
Cindy shook her head. “He doesn’t know I exist. I’m just the woman he used to call so he could make an appointment with Margaret, so they could talk about the latest celebrity she has reeled in for him.”
Richard sat back, his eyes wide with surprise. “Is that what you really think? Is that what everyone thinks?”
Cindy bit her lip as she noticed his dejection. “Maybe you have a different perspective on the Fortescue family given who you work for, but the truth is, I don’t think they have any idea what’s really going on in this company.”
She looked back over at the conference room, through the glass windows which revealed the heir to the company chatting with another member of the staff. “Right now, our prospective employer is in there having a rehearsed conversation with each of the employees. Asking them how they like it, who they think should be the next CEO, what their job entails.”
Richard pursed his lips, his face drawn together in deep concentration. “And you don’t think he should be asking any of those questions?”
Cindy picked half of the sandwich up and took a bite. She chewed for a moment before she swallowed. “They’re a step in the right direction, I guess, but the reality is that nobody knows him. They’re not going to tell him anything that he isn’t wanting or expecting to hear because they don’t know whether or not their honest opinions will get them fired.”
Richard grimaced though he stayed quiet as if he was silently admitting to her that she wasn’t wrong about her suppositions. It wasn’t too much of a leap to believe that perhaps the employees didn’t trust their boss as much as he might want.
“What he needs to do is walk a day in their shoes. Go home to a modest apartment, live on the earnings we make here, do the job that’s expected. After he does that, after he develops relationships with all of these people and not just the senior management. Then he can hold interviews like this and he might get more honest responses.”
Richard was silent as Cindy took another bite of her sandwich.
“Put that down,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Cindy opened her mouth, and he shook his head as he reached over and took the sandwich from her lips and put it back in her plastic sandwich container. In a quick moment, he sealed the container as a determined look appeared on his face.
“Hey! That’s my—”
He pulled out a black credit card. “We’re going out for lunch, and I’m expensing it.”
Cindy’s eyes widened. “And just how are you going to justify that?”
“You’re going to help me see what we need to fix so I can take it to Mr. Fortescue,” he said with a curt nod. “The young one.”
She scoffed as she reached for her sandwich again. “Sorry, but Margaret—”
“Margaret has voicemail, and there’s nothing so urgent that she can’t let you have a break.” Richard’s voice was on edge as he put his hand back down on the lid of Cindy’s sandwich. “And if you’re right, Mr. Fortescue needs to know what’s going on here. I’d like to help you get his ear.”
“So, you think he really cares?” Cindy asked, studying him closely.
“I think that this company was started by his grandfather, and he loved the old man very much,” Richard said coolly. “So even if it didn’t make any business sense to listen, I think he’d want to at least hear us out. More than that, I think we can make quite the case that he should want to listen.”
Cindy hesitated as she looked toward the door beside her desk. Margret wouldn’t like this. “Richard, I don’t think—”
“We need to make a statement. You need to tell Margaret that this isn’t going to work anymore. That you’re not going to put up with this anymore.”
“Isn’t that the job description for a personal assistant?” she asked, her attention whirling toward him as if he had personally attacked her. “Literally do whatever it is that the boss doesn’t want to do? Do whatever it is that makes the boss’s life easier?”
She scoffed as she retrieved her sandwich. “Isn’t that what you do for Mr. Head Boss over there?”
Richard just blinked at her. “What?”
“Trust me,” she said as she took another bite of her sandwich and settled into her chair. “Margaret brings a lot of celebrities into the office. I deal almost exclusively with an army of people who have my exact same job description, and every one of them, no matter how well-groomed, or how graciously they carry it out, look like they could drop dead in a matter of moments by how exhausted they are.”
She raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him. “Except you.”
She leaned in, her sandwich dropping almost to her lap as she studied him. “How do you manage that?”
Richard’s face held hesitation on it, like he was trying to formulate a response which wasn’t on the tip of his tongue.
“I mean, you have the same job I do, and yet you have the company credit card,” she said as she shook her head in wonder. “I would kill to have access to the company credit card. I mean, it would ju
st be so much easier—”
“I guess I have a great boss,” he said with a shrug.
The interruption took Cindy by surprise before she nodded as if she should have expected the casual response. “Yeah.”
Richard’s eyes darted back down to the sandwich in Cindy’s hands. “So, we’re not going out to lunch?”
Her heart tugged at the disappointed look on his face, almost like the look of a little boy who had brought some treasure to his mother only to have her scream at the sliminess of it.
Stay strong, Cindy, she thought to herself, even as she set the sandwich back in the box. Good luck with that, the other part of her murmured with an internal eye roll.
Cindy wiped at her mouth with a paper napkin. “There’s a pretty good food court in the mall. They’re not usually very busy. We could probably get in and out before Margaret notices I’m gone.”
A small smile tugged at Richard’s lip. “So, you’re going to take that sandwich home then?”
The smile came before she could clamp it down to keep from showing her pleasure at having returned the impish youthfulness to his face. She shrugged as she put the lid back in place. “I suppose there’s always dinner.”
Richard took the coat from her and helped her to slip it on over her cardigan. His fingers touched her shoulders as if he was verifying that the coat would do its duty, but they stayed just ever so slightly longer than she had expected. A thrill of anticipation shot up her spine.
What was she saying just yesterday about making sure to stay out of a complicated office romance?
She mentally shook herself. What was the matter with her? It was lunch! And he had already declared his intention to help her discuss things she might want to make sure were pointed out to his boss. This was a work lunch, nothing more.
She swallowed as she felt more than heard Richard’s voice, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck.
“Not dinner,” he said softly. “If all goes well during lunch, I have every intention of asking you to dinner.”
The tingling sensation which flooded her senses at that moment as he helped her to turn around and face him did nothing to remind her about the professional nature of the lunch. This is a bad idea, a voice murmured in the back of her mind.
A Little Christmas Pretense Page 5