Sarah Mayberry - Her Favourite Rival

She cleared her throat and faced her temporary partner in crime. Determined to be professional about this, no matter what.

“So...how do you want to do this?”

“I guess we should divide up the workload. Write our sections separately, then pool data and conclusions,” Zach said.

She forced herself to look at him directly for the first time all day. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, the color lending extra depth to his eyes. For once he wasn’t laughing at her. A small win.

“Sounds good. Do you want to reconvene after five, draw up a schedule...?”

“Can we make it six? I’ve got a conference call with some of the guys from Perth.”

“Sure, suits me.”

He gestured for her to precede him from the room and they parted in the hallway.

In her office, she gave herself a little pep talk. This report was an opportunity, and she was going to hit it out of the park. End of story.

She applied herself to her task list with a Terminator-like zeal, aware that she would have to carve out the time to research and write her share of the analysis over the coming week. Since no one had miraculously added a couple of extra hours to every day, she was going to have to work harder and smarter to fit everything in.

Accordingly, she was armed with some initial thoughts when she made her way to the meeting room at six. Zach hadn’t arrived yet, so she set herself up at one end of the long table, spreading printouts and past reports in front of her.

Makers had three major rivals—two corporate “big box” type retailers and a group of smaller independents that had banded together. While Makers kept a keen eye on all players, the company hadn’t commissioned a comprehensive competitor analysis for more than four years. A major oversight, in Audrey’s opinion, and she wasn’t surprised Whitman had made it one of his first priorities.

She worked her way through the last report, highlighting figures that would need updating in fluorescent pink.

“Sorry. We had a bad connection and the call went over.” Zach dropped into the chair next to her, sighing heavily. He considered all the printouts she’d laid out. “You’ve been busy.”

“I pulled some old reports. Most of them are irrelevant now, the market has moved on so much. But there’s good background information in some of them we might be able to use.”

“Good plan.”

He leaned across to grab one of the reports and a spicy, mellow scent drifted her way. She recognized it as the aftershave he had stashed in his desk and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t want to notice his aftershave. Even if it was really delicious.

“We need to pull in a lot of data,” she said. “I’ll put out a shout to the state marketing coordinators tomorrow to get them started on some figures.”

She was aware of Zach looking at her, but rather than make eye contact she turned another page and lifted her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“If we’re going to divide this up, how do you want to do it?” she asked.

When he didn’t answer immediately, she lifted her gaze. He was watching her, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Clearly amused by something. As always.

“I could take on Mathesons, and you could do Handy Hardware. Which leaves us with Home Savings—we can split that last one,” she suggested.

“Sounds good. Gary mentioned a consulting firm we can call on for industry data?”

They talked over the details of the project for half an hour, making notes and plans. Every now and then she glanced up and caught him smiling that small, amused smile, but he didn’t offer to share the joke and she wasn’t about to ask. The cup of tea she’d had before joining him was starting to make its presence felt.

“Won’t be a moment,” she said as she stood.

He was busy making a notation in the margin of one of the older reports as she left the room. She rolled her shoulders as she made her way to the ladies’. She really needed to learn to loosen up around him; her shoulders felt like they were set in concrete.

She saw the mark on her face the moment she entered the bathroom—a big fluorescent pink streak from the middle of her cheek up into her hairline.

“What the—?”

Then she remembered pushing back her hair with the highlighter in her hand. D’oh.

No wonder he’d been smirking at her.

“Thanks for the heads-up, buddy,” she muttered to herself as she scrubbed her face clean. She took care of business, then returned to the meeting room, aware that she was, yet again, at a disadvantage where he was concerned. Just once it would be nice if he was the one who looked like a dick.

She waited for him to say something about her face—finally—when she entered the room, but he simply gave another one of those small almost-smiles and pushed a printout her way.

“There’s some good stuff in here about projected revenues. We can springboard off historical predictions and talk about how the entry of the second big-box retailer into the market has changed the environment.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”

She tried to concentrate on what she was doing, but she couldn’t let go of the fact that he’d sat next to her for more than half an hour, laughing privately at her striped face, amusing himself at her expense.

The more she thought about it, the more steamed she got, and finally she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You could have said something.”

“Sorry?” He looked up from the page he was reading, his expression distracted.

“The highlighter on my face. You could have said something.”

His gaze went to her cheek. “Could I?”

“Yes, you could have.”

“But then we would have gotten into the whole ‘where is it?’ and ‘have I got it all?’ thing. Next thing you know, I’d be spitting on my hanky and wiping your face.” He smiled, inviting her to share the joke.

At last.

“You enjoy laughing at me, don’t you?” The words popped out of their own accord.

He frowned. “Do I?”

“You know you do.”

“Actually, I don’t. Why would I want to laugh at you?”

Because he thought he was better than her. Because it was the way of handsome, entitled, arrogant men to be amused by lesser beings.

But she wasn’t about to say either of those things out loud. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“We don’t have time for this.” She made a big deal out of sorting through the papers in front of her.

“You brought it up, not me.”

“Forget I said anything.”

“You can’t throw an accusation like that out there and then shut down the conversation. Why on earth would you think I was laughing at you?” He looked and sounded genuinely perplexed.

“Because you always smile when you see me, for starters.”

His eyebrows shot up, as though she’d astonished him. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe—crazy idea—I might actually enjoy your company?”

It was her turn to be astonished. “No.”

“Wow. Okay.” He shook his head as though she’d confused the hell out of him.

“You want the next category manager’s role. Don’t pretend you don’t. And you know I’m your toughest competition.”

“So, what, we can’t be friends?”

She didn’t even need to think about it. “No. My career is too important for me to screw it up by allowing other considerations to enter into the equation.”

“That’s uncanny. You sounded exactly like Gordon Gekko in Wall Street when you said that.”

“I’m not ashamed of being ambitious. I’m the only person in the world I can rely on, and if I don’t make things happen, they don’t happen. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

Suddenly he looked very serious. “You think I don’t understand that?”