Diana Whitney - Mixing Business...With Baby

“Which woman?” Frank Glasgow blinked, followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s our new accounting clerk. Jordan, I believe…Catherine, Caitlin…something like that.”

“Find out.”

“Find what out?”

Even after the clearly aggravated Ms. Jordan had disappeared into the conference room with her hard-earned stack of budget reports, Rick kept his gaze glued on the vacant doorway, awaiting her return. “Her name. I want to know her name.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s rude to refer to one’s employees as ‘hey, you.”’

“Oh.” Frank shot a quizzical look, cleared his throat. “Now about the completion clause and non-compliance penalties, I think we should attempt to negotiate a more favorable—”

“Yes, yes, you’re quite right,” Rick mumbled as the gorgeous Ms. Jordan reappeared in the doorway.

She hesitated, noting his presence with an annoyed sideways glance before hurrying across the spacious open area to a neat desk in front of the management cubicles. She seated herself stiffly, deliberately turned her back on him, a subtle signal that she’d noted his visual interest and rejected it.

“Rick, have you got a moment?”

A vaguely familiar feminine voice caught his attention. He glanced around as a portly, middle-aged woman rushed toward him. “Good afternoon, Sandra. I hear your son’s football team won the league championships. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. He’s up for a sports scholarship at U.C.L.A.”

“Really? That’s quite a coup. You must be very proud.”

“Oh, I am.”

“You’ve done something different with your hair.”

“Why, yes.” She patted her chic, scissored coiffeur, gave him a grateful smile. “Even my husband didn’t notice. Do you like it?”

He flashed her a smile that usually made women flush and giggle. “Extremely attractive. Brings out the resonance of your eyes and draws attention to your lovely smile.”

“Flatterer.”

“If the truth is flattering, so be it.”

Sandra flushed and giggled, then caught herself, clearing her throat and drawing her ample shoulders back with a modicum of dignity. “When you finally get married, you’ll break a million hearts, you devil, you.”

“Why, I can’t possibly get married when the most perfect woman on Earth is already taken.” Lifting her hand, he brushed a light kiss across her knuckles, then offered a conspiratorial wink that raised a crimson stain across her cheeks. “I hope your husband realizes what a lucky man he is.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“You do that.”

Still blushing madly, Sandra sighed, floated a few steps away, then jerked to a stop. “I almost forgot. The drafting department elected me to express our appreciation for the merit bonus this week. It was very generous of you.”

“I’m the one who is appreciative. Please convey my gratitude to your colleagues for a job well done. Because of their efforts, the company was able to secure a lucrative renovation contract that benefits us all.”

Sandra was pink with pleasure. “I’ll pass that along.”

“Please do.” Rick gave the woman his undivided attention until she broke visual contact by turning away. Then his gaze immediately returned to the fascinating Ms. Jordan just in time to see her roll her eyes and swivel her chair around until her back was to him again. That she’d been unimpressed by his employee interaction skills couldn’t have been more clear if she’d held up a scorecard.

Rick’s smile flattened. He wasn’t exactly insulted, but he was most certainly confused. People just naturally liked him. They always had, perhaps because he naturally liked them as well.

“It seems as if I’ve inadvertently gotten off on the wrong foot with our newest employee,” he murmured to no one in particular.

“Hmm?” Beside him, Frank followed his gaze and scowled. “She’s probably just preoccupied with learning the position. The finance department is one of the most complex and important in the company.”

Frank’s reminder of his own importance didn’t escape Rick’s notice. “We couldn’t get along without you.”

Frank’s tailored lapels seemed to puff a bit. He was a short man, thin and balding, with a mustache so neat it appeared to have been trimmed with a template. He was also a man prone to agitation when his ego wasn’t routinely stroked, but he was exceptionally good at his job and treated his subordinates with respect. Frank was an excellent manager. Rick appreciated him immensely and would have spent more time stroking that fragile ego if he hadn’t been so overwhelmingly intrigued by his own peculiar turmoil.

“We could spend some time discussing those contracts if you’d like,” Frank said. “I’m free until 4:30….”

The remainder of Frank’s comment dissipated as Rick made a beeline for Ms. Jordan’s desk.

The subtle stiffening of her shoulder blades was the only indication that she was aware of Rick’s presence. “It occurs to me that we were interrupted before we could complete the introductory process,” he said jovially. “I’m Rick Blaine.”

“So I gathered.” She stared at the computer monitor as if mesmerized by it. Her fingers clicked over the keyboard with impressive speed. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Blaine.”

The final comment was added as an afterthought and without benefit of a glance.

Rich shuffled uncomfortably. “And you are…?”

She leaned forward, hit the backspace and re-entered a number. “Catrina Jordan.”

“Catrina. That’s a lovely name.” He repeated her name, which was pronounced Cat-rina, emphasis on “Cat,” rather than the softer European pronunciation. “Your mother must have been a feline fancier.”

“My mother was allergic to cats. I was named after my grandmother.” Another correction made its way to the monitor. She studied her notes a moment, then went back to inputting figures without further comment.

“I see.” Rick felt like a high-school nerd trying to ask the homecoming queen for a date. “My mother was a big Humphrey Bogart fan.” He flashed his famous smile, presuming she would be dazzled by it.

And she might have been, if she’d bothered to look up. “He was a fine actor.”

He puffed his cheeks, blew out a breath. “She named me after Humphrey Bogart’s character in Casablanca.”

“How interesting,” she murmured in a tone that clearly implied she’d rather discuss the genetics of animal dander with an intellectual dwarf than indulge in further conversation with him.

“Look, I want to apologize for what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I mean, if you were embarrassed there was no need to be. This is a casual company. We’re all on pretty much a first-name basis here. It didn’t occur to me that you’d be intimidated just because my name is on the letterhead.”

Her fingers froze over the keyboard, then she tucked them in her lap. She took a deep breath, then swivelled around to face him. “I was not intimidated, Mr. Blaine, nor am I interested in conducting an office flirtation with the boss, or with anyone else for that matter. I take my work very seriously, and I’m good at what I do. I need this job. I’ll be a valuable employee for your company, but that is all I will be.”

If she’d shoved her keyboard down his throat sideways he couldn’t have been more shocked. “Exactly what kind of reputation do I have among my employees?”

The dart of her gaze proved he’d hit a nerve. “You are highly regarded,” she confessed. “Everyone I’ve spoken with thinks the world of you.”

“So I’m not known as a lecherous skirt-chaser?”

That adorable flush revealed itself in crimson patches on her otherwise perfect complexion. “On the contrary, you’re known as a man who is generous and outgoing to everyone.”