Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“I have a special delivery for –” Mr. Spears raises his brows at me.
“Helen Ratner.” I reach into my bag and pull out the manila envelope addressed to her. “She’s the head—”
“Of human resources,” Mr. Spears interrupts, looking at me with a laugh in his eyes.
I realize there’s only one way he could know Helen’s position within the company. The Gucci devil works here too.
Mr. Spears takes the letter from my hand faster than I can react and passes it to the guard. “Please see that Helen gets this ASAP. Make sure to tell her I asked you to deliver it.”
Mr. Spears holds up one finger to the guard, making all of us still, then gazes down his nose at me.
“Hmmm,” he hums in thought, his single digit suspended in the air. “What’s your favorite position?”
I gasp, glance at the guard, who has his mouth open, then look back at Mr. Spears. He curls his lip and shakes his head as the blanks begin to fill in.
Calling him sir. Dark eyes. Talk of positions. Snide smirk.
He’s totally coming onto me, but I need a break to get through the company’s guarded door. It’s the age-old dilemma for women, and one I’ve stood against.
“Here at Hammond, I mean. What position would you like?” he asks the right question, but way too late.
I silently apologize to Gloria Steinem before answering him. “Publicity or marketing.”
“Perfect,” he responds before turning back to the guard. “Get on it.”
The guard hustles through a door on the back wall, and another guard in the wings takes his place.
“I’d be happy to give Helen a call later today. Make sure she received your letter.” Mr. Spears places his hand back on the small of my back and guides me toward one of the enclosed glass bookshelves.
“You would?” I study his face, deciphering his level of sincerity. The Big Bad Wolf glint in his eyes tells me everything.
I step away from him, breaking the contact of his hand with my lower back, and a woman shouts, then something bumps into me near my shoulder blades. Before I make a full turn, cold and hot liquids pour down my back.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t move out of your way fast enough,” the woman says frantically, a drink tray of toppled Starbucks cups in her hands. All Venti.
She thrusts the caffeine catastrophe at Mr. Spears. His eyes are planted on my backside, and not for untoward reasons. He appears stunned, speechless, as he takes the dripping mess in his hands.
“Thank God I grabbed these with the coffee,” the woman says, fisting a pile of napkins. “Did you get burned?” she asks, rubbing and pressing the napkins over my back.
“No. More cold, actually,” I reply, still in shock.
“Good. The cold brews are what got you the most. My sincere apologies, dear.”
The woman proceeds to shake the remnants off my shirt and continues to wipe it clean. She mutters under her breath and bows her head. I don’t think it’s looking good, but I can’t see my back fully to be certain.
“We need to get this taken care of before the stains set in. Do you mind coming upstairs with me? I’ll send your clothes out for a quick cleaning. I think I have a trench coat for you to wear while you wait.”
“Can I join you?” Mr. Spears asks as the coffees continue to spill over the tray onto the floor.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Spears,” the woman answers, gathering me to her side. “Please just throw the coffees away and get housekeeping down here.”
“Already on it, Mrs. Mackenzie,” the replacement guard yells from his desk.
“At least one male is being useful,” she says, whispering under her breath so only I can hear. I giggle for a beat.
I like this woman, even if she ruined my blouse, and likely my skirt too. Besides, she’s taking me upstairs, way beyond the lobby and my wildest dreams.
“My boss will just have to do without the fancy coffee for his meeting,” she says, walking me toward a bank of elevators. “Mr. Hammond will understand, though.”
“Barclay Hammond?” the question rushes from my lips.
“Yes. I’m Alice Mackenzie, Mr. Hammond’s assistant. What’s your name, dear?”
“Tessa Holly, ma’am.”
“Well, I’ll have you back on your way in short order. Promise.” Her kind eyes warm away some of my shock.
Once in the elevator, Mrs. Mackenzie hits the button for the highest floor. The numbers over the door fly by as we move closer to the handsome suited player who bought my dinner and drinks last night. My stomach twists in a knot. Will he remember me? There’s no way I’ll ever forget a man like him.
7
Barclay
The five head editors for Hammond Press are gathered around a large rectangle table in the boardroom connected to my office, and I sit at the head, presiding over an emergency meeting.