Heather Macallister - Tempted In Texas

“So you thought military instead of sports?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “I’m off sports.”

“Works for me.” He tilted back his head and swallowed, yet kept his eyes on her computer screen.

Gwen ruthlessly smothered a sigh and erased the mental image of Alec’s jawline.

He tilted the bottle toward her list. “You haven’t got very far.”

“I know. That’s where you come in. I’m currently on the staff of one of the regional directors. Kwik Koffee’s got seven, but two of the largest regions need to be split and I think that’ll be my best shot for a promotion. Now, visualize the regional directors holed up in a fort under siege. I want in.”

“I’m visualizing and I’m not seeing any women. Are there any women directors—is that the problem?”

“No women.” Gwen shook her head. “But I think that’s coincidence.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“There are two assistant regional directors. Both women.”

“And the fact that women are assistants is just coincidence?”

Gwen frowned. “I don’t want to go there. The assistants are in the biggest regions, so logically, if the regions are split, they should get the promotion. I want you to tell me what an ambitious man would do in my position.”

Alec sat back. “There’s the time-honored, yet slimy, method of joining the same club and bonding in the steam room, a couple of rounds of golf a month, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t play golf.”

“You should learn.”

“I don’t steam, either.”

Alec laughed. “Put ‘find something in common’ on your list. Maybe the guy in charge collects wines or model trains. Or, I know—nothing beats a plate of warm brownies.”

Only the wicked flash in his eye saved him.

“There is a huge difference between a plate of brownies and time in a steam room.”

“That’s a plate of warm brownies—okay!” he conceded when she opened her mouth. “But find out what he likes and give it to him.”

Gwen raised her eyebrow.

He waved his beer bottle impatiently. “You know what I mean. Also, figure out who makes the promotion decisions. You have to make your boss look good to him.”

“Why shouldn’t I make myself look good to him?”

“You will be.”

Gwen dutifully typed his suggestions. “I also know to analyze the work and find something that needs to be done, then volunteer to do it, but I can’t figure out anything that needs to be done that I’m capable of doing. Kwik Koffee seems to run an efficient operation.”

“Think small, but visible. Oh, yeah.” Alec gestured for her to continue typing. “Think cost-cutting. Companies love it when you save money.”

Gwen knew that, but she added it to the list to humor him. He was really getting into this corporate competitiveness.

“Reprice supplies or something. Then you can send a memo detailing what you found. Don’t forget to print out your e-mail.”

“Right, a paper trail.” Gwen made a note to check prices on environmentally friendly coffee filters. They were a great idea, but had been too expensive in the past. Maybe the price had come down enough so that Kwik Koffee could reap the public relations benefit of a switch.

“Do you miss your job?” she asked as she typed. Alec had never gone into detail about his life before he came to live at Oak Villa Apartments, but Gwen got the impression that he’d been fairly high on the corporate ladder in a family-owned company.

He laughed. “I miss the salary! But this experience has forced me to look at life differently, which was no doubt what my granddad had in mind.” He grimaced. “I suppose I’ll have to admit it to him, too.”

Gwen met his eyes. “Were you…fired?” she asked hesitantly.

“No! Hey, didn’t I tell you about Granddad’s big challenge?”

“You just told me you were trying to start your own business.”

Alec took a deep breath and settled back on the sofa. It looked like it was going to be a long story. But that was okay. Gwen liked having Alec around. He wasn’t any trouble. At least not much.

“Granddad came to this country with something like forty bucks in his pocket—I don’t know, the amount is less every time he tells the story. But he started a little lunch-cart business, which grew and now we all work there. My dad and uncle really expanded the company. It was just strictly local and they worked their butts off taking it national.” He stopped talking and looked off into the distance. Gwen had never seen him this somber before.

“Dad wasn’t around much when I was little,” he said, exhaling heavily.

“It must have been rough on your mother, too,” Gwen said.

“I guess so.” The way he said it told Gwen that he’d never considered his mother’s point of view before. Well, he was now.

But apparently only for a second or two. “The thing that gets to me is that Granddad doesn’t even acknowledge what his sons did or what any of us are doing. According to him, we’re all just leeches benefiting from his hard work. And dad just…takes it. Drives me and my cousins nuts.”

“So you quit?”

“Only temporarily. We want to develop the Web site and maybe open some stores in the malls, but Granddad won’t listen to us, soooo…” Alec paused when the buzzer on the oven went off.

Gwen headed for the kitchen. “Keep talking. I can hear you.”

“So we decided that one of us would start a business from the ground up under the same conditions—or as close as we could get—and prove to the old guy that we’re not complete write-offs.”

“And you lost?” She glanced through the bar as she got out plates.

Alec stared down at the beer in his hands, then looked up at her with a half smile. “No. I won.”

Which was a pretty good insight into the male psyche, Gwen told herself. They liked challenges. Enjoyed them, even. She should start thinking that way about her promotion campaign.

“It’s been tough, I won’t kid you. I can’t imagine how desperate and scared my grandfather must have been. At least I’m in the same country—the same city, even.”

Gwen was cutting the pizza and trying to do so quietly so she could hear Alec, but managed to burn her thumb on hot cheese. She dropped the piece halfway between the plate and the cookie sheet and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Part of the topping was on the slice of pizza, the rest was on her counter. She nudged it into place, sort of, then looked up to find that Alec had left the sofa and was leaning his elbows on the bar as he watched her.

“Not much of a cook, are you?” He grinned.

“Like this never happened to you.” She handed him the plate with the good pieces on it.

“Actually, no. Your mistake was in using plates. I just eat from the pan.”

“Barbarian.”

“Bad pizza cooker.”

“That’s the worst thing you can call me?” Gwen sat down and shoved her papers aside, then propped her Scooby-Doo slipper clad feet on the coffee table.

“My brain is running on low.” Alec added his feet to the table, slouched down and propped the pizza plate on his stomach. His flat stomach. “I’ll think of something after a few bites. In the meantime, speaking of Scooby-Doo—”

“Were we?”

“No, but we are now.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ve heard rumors of a New Year’s Eve marathon.” He gave her look out of the corner of his eye. “Got any party plans?”

Gwen’s heart gave an extra thump. If only he’d stopped right then and there, but no, Alec continued.

“’Cause if you’re going out, I wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on your television for you.” He grinned hopefully.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Not, hey Gwen, let’s spend New Year’s together but I want to watch cartoons on your TV. Gwen took a moment to give herself a mental kick—she’d given up men. This was one of the reasons why.