Emmie Dark - Cassie's Grand Plan

The idea that Graham might not simply rubber-stamp her pitch to become CEO had never occurred to her. Pretty much every success Country Style had had over the past four years had been her doing. Graham had moved on to his next business endeavor—another chain of retail stores, this time selling luggage—and left Cassie more or less in charge, in action if not in title. She’d worked so hard for him. And the reward was the job interview from hell.

Clearly she’d overestimated his trust in her. Perhaps because he was the nearest thing she had to a father, she’d taken for granted that he’d be as eager for her to succeed as she was herself. Instead, Graham had shown her that despite their relationship, his primary concern had to be his company. Nothing personal, he’d said. They might be close, Cassie told herself, but when it came down to it, business was always going to be business for Graham. She knew that. It shouldn’t have been a surprise.

She turned her attention back to the man in front of her. They’d spent the morning combing through Country Style’s financial reports, Cassie explaining her decisions and pointing out particular gains and losses. She was proud of her truthful, matter-of-fact answers and thought she’d shown just the right amount of passion and enthusiasm for the business.

For his part, Ronan McGuire asked pertinent questions that evidenced his knowledge of budgeting and management. To the point that she had to grudgingly admit his input and advice might just be very useful for planning the business’s future success.

His insightful questions had prompted new ideas, and she’d taken pages of notes. Even in just a few hours, he’d brought fresh thinking and original concepts to her future plans for running Country Style.

It was both depressing and exhilarating, Cassie thought, watching as Ronan politely—but still somehow flirtatiously—accepted a sandwich and coffee from Melanie.

Exhilarating because she could see how all the ideas could be implemented to create a dramatically better business.

Depressing because she hadn’t thought of them herself.

Perhaps Graham was right to doubt her management abilities.

“Thank you, Miss Mel,” Ronan drawled, bringing Cassie out of her reflection. He was so confident, she thought, so arrogant and sure of himself. But perhaps she was just seeing things that way because she was suddenly feeling so very unsure of herself.

“Thank you, Mel,” Cassie said. She wasn’t thrilled to see that Ronan’s thanks had elicited yet another little giggle and a blush, while Melanie barely acknowledged Cassie’s words. And she absolutely was not jealous of the low, sexy tone Ronan used when talking to her assistant rather than the practical, no-nonsense tone he used with her. Men didn’t talk to her that way—they never had—and she couldn’t miss what she’d never had, could she?

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. McGuire?” Mel asked.

Before Ronan could say anything—like encourage Melanie to use his first name again in that breathy Marilyn Monroe voice she seemed to have suddenly developed—Cassie interrupted. “Mel, could you please bring in the schedule for the site visits? Including the travel arrangements?” After Graham’s call yesterday, Cassie had immediately started work preparing a tour of the largest and most successful Country Style stores across Australia. She figured it was the best way to show off her success. Spreadsheets were all well and good, but nothing beat seeing the real thing in person.

“No worries. And just so you know, Cassie, I’ve cleared up the signage issues for the Hawthorn opening. The sign writers are redoing the car-park notices and the painters will be in later today to fix up the front fascia.”

“Thanks, Mel, that’s great news.” Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t believe it, but for the whole morning she’d not once given a thought to the store opening that had dominated her workload for the past several weeks. Thank goodness Melanie was still on the ball. Cassie had opened new stores before—dozens of them—but this would be the largest store in the Country Style group. Located in one of Melbourne’s most affluent suburbs, it was going to be a showcase of Country Style design and flair. With only a week to go until the opening, the major work was done—stock ordered, staff hired, store layout confirmed—it was all the little details that now needed attending to.

Melanie vanished out the door, but not before bestowing a hundred-watt smile on Ronan.

“Hawthorn signage?” Ronan asked.

“We have a new store opening next Monday,” Cassie explained.

“Ah.” He pushed the plate of sandwiches toward Cassie. “Melanie seems very efficient,” he said.

“She’s great, very organized and resourceful,” Cassie said, reaching for a salad sandwich triangle. “She’s been with us for almost five years now, and is a very important member of our team.”

He gave Cassie a considered look. “And how long have you been with the company?”

“Eleven years,” she replied, even though she was sure he already knew the answer. It was impossible someone as obviously prepared as he was wouldn’t have scoped her out—although she was reasonably sure his background check would start and finish with her career. Maybe, if he dug deep enough, he might find out about her family and what had happened to her parents—that was a matter of public record. But that would be it. No one knew how she’d come to join the company when she was seventeen except Graham, and he’d given her his word of honor that he’d never tell. She didn’t always trust Graham—and Ronan’s presence was clear evidence as to why—but on that one topic he’d never given her cause to doubt him.

Her career with Country Style since then, on the other hand, was likely to have been an open book to Ronan McGuire, especially the last four years she’d spent as operations manager and second in charge to Graham. He probably knew what she had for breakfast, Cassie thought grimly. The answer of course was nothing, and remembering that, she took a bite of her sandwich.

“That’s a long time to be with one organization,” he commented, one eyebrow raised in a way that caused a corresponding spike in Cassie’s blood pressure—much as she tried to ignore it. “Especially these days.”

Cassie chewed and swallowed. “How long have you been with the Conroy Corporation?” she asked, keen to dodge the spotlight while she considered how to respond. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to gauge her passion for the business or hinting that she had limited herself by not broadening her experience. Cassie had the strong feeling that every question he asked had an ulterior motive, no matter how innocent it might seem on the surface.

One side of his mouth cocked up in a crooked smile. “Ah, you have me there. I joined the company right after college and I’m about to become a partner.” His eyes grew harder with something Cassie couldn’t quite identify and she wondered why. Shouldn’t he be proud? The emotion, whatever it was, was gone again in a flash.

“Where are you based?” she asked.

“San Francisco,” he replied in clipped tones, letting her know that the subject was effectively closed. “So, what’s kept you at Country Style for eleven years?”

He was persistent, she’d give him that. “I love it here,” she said simply. It was far, far more than that, but there was no way she was going into it all with a stranger.

Besides, it was none of his business.

“You’ve arranged a site tour?” he asked, pointing at the documents Mel had left behind, and Cassie was thankful he changed the subject back to the matter at hand.

He took a large bite of his sandwich and chewed without breaking their shared gaze. For some reason, watching his jaw move was incredibly distracting. It started Cassie thinking about his mouth, his lips and then his tongue; she hurriedly looked down and took another bite of her own sandwich before he could read the blush she knew was stealing across her face.