Emmie Dark - Cassie's Grand Plan

“I’m not standing for this, Mel,” Cassie said, one hand going back to play with her hastily gathered-up ponytail. Her other hand grasped her paper coffee cup dangerously tightly.

“I know, I know,” Melanie said soothingly. “They’ve tried this on us before. But don’t worry, we’ll get on to it and it will be sorted.”

“As if we didn’t have enough to deal with today,” Cassie said under her breath. Being caught in the middle of an argument with a supplier was the last thing she needed.

A surprise phone call from her boss the previous afternoon had informed her that some high-flying international business analyst would be arriving this morning to begin a review of the entirety of Country Style’s operations. Graham Taylor, the owner of Country Style, hadn’t needed to spell out that Cassie’s own performance was what was really under the microscope here.

Cassie checked her watch. It was only just before eight, so she figured she had at least another hour or so to prepare. She did a mental run-through of her to-do list, checking off priorities on her fingers. “I still have to confirm the travel arrangements for the store visits, finalize the contracts for the new ad campaign and iron out the problems with the signage on the new Hawthorn store before the opening next Monday.”

“I know,” Melanie repeated sympathetically. “I’ll deal with this and I can work on the travel stuff. You just focus on Hawthorn and do what you need to do.”

Cassie was grateful for her assistant’s encouraging smile and composed demeanor. Normally a very cool, calm and collected businesswoman herself, today’s inspection had Cassie feeling jittery, doubting herself and her management abilities. She’d barely slept last night after staying up late to prepare herself for the inquisition. She’d worked through every possible scenario, rehearsing her responses to any question she could think of. It hadn’t helped. Now she was just nervous and sleep deprived. She took a long sip of her coffee, hoping that the caffeine would give her a jolt, get her back to her normal, take-charge self.

Still caught up in self-analysis, Cassie was just taking another sip of coffee when a tall, suited man suddenly appeared next to them, making her gasp in shock.

He held his hand out to Melanie.

“Hello, you must be Cassidy Hartman.” Smiling broadly, his American accent rang out as if someone had just turned on a TV. “I’m Ronan C—McGuire from the Conroy Corporation. I understand Graham called to let you know to expect me.”

Cassie’s world slowed for a moment.

This was the pencil-pushing number-cruncher Graham had sent to check up on her?

But there wasn’t a bow tie, pocket protector or pair of horn-rimmed glasses in sight. Instead, everything about this man screamed money and sophistication, from the tailored shoulders of his fine wool suit all the way down to the shiny, no doubt Italian, leather lace-ups. His dark hair was artfully tousled, just enough to look as though care had been taken, but not so much that it would look fussy.

If this was a sitcom, then the star had just walked in—straight out of central casting, with “tall, dark and handsome” written in script under his name. Cassie half expected to hear whoops and mad applause in the background.

Melanie, flustered, looked from the man who held his hand out toward her to Cassie and back again, her pretty face creased with confusion and anxiety.

Cassie, for her part, remembered to breathe at the same time as she also remembered to swallow her mouthful of lukewarm coffee. Bad idea.

Choking and spluttering, she struggled to draw breath.

“Um, I’m…” Melanie stuttered, clearly unsure whether to introduce herself, deal with Cassie’s coughing fit, or maybe just run away.

Ronan looked over at Cassie and patted her on the back firmly a few times. “Are you okay?”

His eyes sent a ribbon of heat through her that had nothing to do with the oppressive northerly wind whipping around them. Blue. Perfect reflections of the summer sky above them. Sultry and flirtatious, his gaze made Cassie’s heart skip, even as she tried to swallow and breathe normally.

She fought to restore her composure. “I’m fine,” she said hoarsely. She blinked back the tears threatening to stream down her cheeks from the coughing fit.

“Good.” Ronan nodded and turned back to Melanie. “So, Ms. Hartman, I know Graham probably told you to expect me at nine, but I like to arrive a little early so we have a chance to get to know—”

Finally Melanie recovered enough to speak. “Sorry, but my name’s Melanie. Cassie is—”

“I’m Cassidy Hartman.” Cassie drew herself up straight and held out her hand. She knew her face was red and not just from the coughing. This was Graham’s consultant, and he’d mistaken Melanie for her. Who could blame him? She was filthy from crawling through the recently arrived stock trying to do a rough estimate on quantities. She’d barely slept so she knew her eyes were baggy and her hair was in its usual messy ponytail. Whereas Melanie—well, she was Melanie. Cool, crisp and utterly perfect.

The mistake was understandable, but no less embarrassing. And, much as she didn’t want to admit it, it hurt. Part Two of her recently drawn up Plan-with-a-capital-P was all about making sure this kind of misunderstanding didn’t happen, but she had to get Part One bedded down first—and that meant making her position at Country Style rock solid. She just hadn’t considered that the report she’d spent her nights and weekends researching and writing would prompt her boss to call in professional analysts instead of simply granting her the CEO position as she’d recommended.

The smarmy-but-gorgeous Ronan turned to Cassie and gave a slight bow, extending his hand to grasp hers. His eyes flashed with a moment of regret at his misstep, but he covered it quickly. “My apologies, ma’am.” He cocked his head to one side as she stifled another cough. “I admire your new caffeine delivery system, but perhaps it still needs some work?”

Cassie had been about to apologize for her appearance, explain about the short-delivered order, but his condescending expression stopped her in her tracks. She wanted more than anything to slap that grin off his face and send him packing back to his big glass office in America. Instead, she forced herself to smile, as much to stop herself insulting him out loud as anything else.

She shook his hand and released it quickly when a jolt ran through her body, as if she were holding hands with the devil.

“Can I get you a coffee, Mr....uh,” Melanie stuttered.

Cassie looked over at Melanie and was surprised to find her unflappable assistant looking at a loss.

He hesitated just a split second before answering smoothly. “Mr. McGuire,” he reminded her, “but please, call me Ronan. And I’d love a coffee. Black, no sugar—I’m sweet enough,” he added with a wink and Cassie was staggered by Melanie’s response. She gave a shy giggle and a telltale blush marched across her face. Melanie was the target of flirting from just about every man she met. This was the first time Cassie had ever seen it work.

She guessed any woman would fall weak at the knees faced with this perfect specimen of the male sex. Objectively, Cassie could see why. He wasn’t her type, though. Too polished. Too worldly. Too good-looking. Too overwhelming. It’d be too easy to lose yourself—lose control—with someone like him. It wasn’t something she would ever allow to happen.

Besides which, it was pointless even thinking those kinds of thoughts. He was here to assess her performance—at work, not in the bedroom. Thank goodness. At least at work Cassie knew what she was doing.

Well, she’d thought she did up until Graham had called for this review.