Every Kiss(29)
“Sandra, can you get Marshall O’Brian on the line?” He pauses for her reply. “Good, thanks. Let me know when you have him.”
Within seconds, his phone rings, and he answers coolly, the mask back in place. He may as well be speaking Greek to the man because I have no idea what he’s talking about. I can gather, though, that Wes is none too pleased with the poor unsuspecting soul on the other end of the line. Something about unapproved expenditures, encumbrances, and reducing gross profit. Or something like that.
Feeling uncomfortable, I decide to step out to see what’s taking my friend so long. I hear Makenna’s muted voice on the other side of the closed door across the wide hall, so I guess that answers that question. I stroll down the hallway slowly, looking carefully at the framed prints of more men in suits. They’re older gentlemen, most of them with gray hair and unnaturally large ears. But after noticing they have their names and job titles on the bottom, I’m quick to realize that these are the people at the top of the food chain in this company, whatever the hell its purpose is. When I reach the end, I see a familiar face. The other side of Wes’ personality . . . the same one I met today.
He wears a slight, professional smile in the photograph, which increases the intensity of his intimidating, crystal blue gaze. He radiates exactly the feeling he wants to convey. Power. Control. Extreme, unbridled sexiness.
Whether he’s shooting for the last part or not, he’s still successful.
And Wes’ title is at the bottom of it, too. Wow.
“Can I get you something, ma’am?” Sandra approaches me with a professional smile. She looks down at the words under my fingertips. “Mr. Baxter came here when he was still in college, and the powers that be couldn’t wait to snatch him up. I don’t think anyone was surprised when he was offered the CFO position after only a year.”
“What’s a CFO exactly?” The term is familiar, but I know so little about the business world.
“Chief Financial Officer. To easily sum it up, he’s the one that makes all the financial decisions for the company.”
“Oh,” I sigh, trying to grasp what it entails. “So what does this company do?”
She crooks her finger at me, and I follow her around to another hallway. This one has framed photos of newspaper clippings, articles from Time magazine, and even marketing style posters. “Mr. Fields and Mr. Lehman started this company only eight years ago. They developed software that large companies use to analyze financial data.” She pauses to tap on the poster. “This is it. Accu-Trak. Within the first year after its release, they made twenty million dollars. They were struggling with the boom when Mr. Baxter came along, but after taking more than a few of his suggestions, Fields and Lehman were sitting pretty. Since then, they’ve created specialized financial and analytical products for brokerage firms and the bank industry. We’re growing by leaps and bounds, and last year, we reported earnings more than four times that of the first year.”
“That’s impressive.” All this talk of obscene amounts of money has my throat going dry. “Uh, may I have that water now, please?”
“Absolutely, Miss Callie.” Her eyes brighten as she nods, and then she disappears down another corridor. Nice woman. Definitely nothing like the bitchy ice queen downstairs. Sandra returns almost immediately with a chilled bottle of water and a napkin, patting my hand after she hands it to me. “You just let me know if you need anything else, dear.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Just as I’m twisting the lid off the top, the elevator doors open. Shane is carrying a large bouquet of bright pink roses and still holding the phone to his ear. “I’m here, so I’ll see you in a sec.” His smile is even sunnier than normal, and I can imagine why.
“Mr. Baxter,” Sandra addresses him. “It’s so nice to see you again. I believe Makenna is just down the hall. Third office on the left.”
“Thank you.” He pauses to kiss me on the cheek. “Hey, Cal.”
“Hey, lover boy.” I wink. “Go get your girl and get outta here. I know I’ll get the full report later.”
“Maybe not the full report.” His chuckle trails off as he rushes down the hall.
Within minutes, Shane and Makenna are gone, excited to get away and do only God knows what. And yes, I’m a little jealous. When the elevator begins its descent, I look back at Sandra. She’s typing away, the light click-click-click of the keys under her manicured nails is strangely soothing. A ghost of a smile is on her lips, and I can’t decide if it’s just normally plastered there for the sake of professionalism or if she’s affected by the love in the air.