"Not that I'm complaining, but why couldn't Kathy come?"
"She's sick so I had to do it."
"My lucky day."
I didn't know if he meant he was lucky because I gave him a good laugh or because of my company. Before I contemplated a response, my cell phone rang. I glanced at the dashboard where it sat.
"Are you going to answer it?"
"No, I'm driving and it's just my mom," I replied.
"Don't you have hands free?"
I did have hands free, but then it would mean she'd be on speakerphone and that would be bad.
"I'll call her later." I felt slightly annoyed by his interest.
"It could be an emergency, Marley."
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, trying to hide my frustration. "It's not an emergency."
Rick was quiet for a moment and the phone ceased its ringing, thank goodness. "That's the thing about an emergency-you never know when it's going to happen," he said solemnly, all traces of humour leaving his voice. It surprised me.
"It's definitely not an emergency," I replied emphatically, then added, "My mom calls me like ten times a day." Just great! Why did I say that? Now he was going to think I talked to my mom all day instead of working. Realistically, she hardly ever called me.
He left my statement alone. I hoped he'd completely forget it.
"So, you're a consultant?" I asked lamely, trying to steer the topic away from my personal calls.
"Yes, I suppose you could call me that."
"So, you just swoop in like a superhero, fix broken companies and pull out?"
He grinned mischievously. "Pulling out is difficult for me, but essentially that's what I do."
Holy crap … was that … sexual? I shifted, uncomfortably aware of just how close I was to him. For once, I actually wished I had a bigger car. I was so focused on my frustration that I almost forgot how hot he was … almost. His eyes were this crazy hue of green that I'd never seen before. They were intense, endearing and mischievous all at the same time.
"What can you tell me about your company, Marley?"
I allowed myself to steal a glance at him then turned away quickly. He stared right at me, piercing me with those deep emerald-coloured eyes. It was a little unnerving. As was his scent, spicy and fragrant, but not overpowering. He smelt delicious. Hell, he looked delicious if that was possible.
"Um, well. It's a great company, but our profits are down, and it's a tough time in the economy to manufacture clothing. We need to broaden our vendor base and create a demand for our products."
He looked disappointed by my answer. "No, Marley, that information is obvious. I gleaned that from the reports I've read. I want you to tell me, as an employee, what you think about the company."
"I think it's a great company. Mr Henley built it from the ground up, and we have a stand-up product," I replied, wondering what else he wanted.
"Marley, you're really not answering my question. Surely you have some deeper insights than that. If all the employees are as uninspiring as you, I'd say I have my work cut out for me."
Okay, that's it. His name was Richard right? Well, I hereby nicknamed him ‘Dick'. I inhaled deeply. "Look, Rick"-Dick-"I don't know what you want me to tell you, but I'll say this much. I love the company. Despite our economic woes, I believe there is a strong market for our product. We are a small company, family owned and completely independent. We're not like those huge companies with flashy catalogues with smiling models that pretend to be a family. Most of our line is American made too, not like those other places that traipse the American Flag in their stores and even have the word, ‘American' in their name but all their tags say, ‘made in China'. We're about quality not quantity. We're about value for the money. Our stuff costs more, but it lasts years, not months. I understand you're here to turn around our bottom line, but before you concentrate on the bottom, you should understand what make us unique in the first place. If you think the answer is to turn us into a Stepford replica of our competitors, then you're missing a primal opportunity to capitalise on what we already have."
"What's that, Marley?"
"Character, resilience and individuality," I replied, staring at the open road, waiting for him to scream, ‘you're fired'. That was a silly thought. Surely he would wait until I dropped him off to fire me, wouldn't he?
I stole a peripheral glance at him. His approving grin surprised me. "That's what I needed to hear. It makes me feel much better about this assignment. I can always tell when the challenge is worth it, or rather, when the company is worth it."
"Why is that?"
"You describe it like a person with character traits. That's how you know the employees really care, and I can tell you love it. It's worth fighting for."
I nodded to let him know I understood, but I wasn't exactly sure what had happened. Had my haughty disobedience worked in my favour for once? His pleased expression made me uncomfortable. "Another thing, if you're going to be working there, you can dress more casually. Usually Dockers and a polo shirt will do. Every Friday is jean day. It's a relaxed atmosphere." I said this more for my benefit than his. His suit was driving me a little crazy, and I couldn't imagine watching him strut in a suit every day. Then again, what was I thinking-I probably wouldn't be anywhere in his general vicinity and pretty soon I would no longer be in the building, either.
"I'm more comfortable in a suit typically, but I'll probably take advantage of jean day. I have a question for you though."
"What's that?"
"Does casual usually include garter belts?"
I almost slammed on the breaks. Did he really just say that to me? "That's highly inappropriate."
He chuckled. "Well, maybe you should lower your skirt so I'm not distracted." I looked down on my lap and sure enough, my skirt had ridden up, revealing the bottom of my garter where it attached to the hose.
I lifted my ass in the seat, trying to maintain my speed, and attempted to lower my skirt at the same time.
"Let me help you. You're driving," he offered, moving his hand towards me. I slapped it away.
"Stop it! You know you're in dangerous territory here. Ever heard of sexual harassment, buddy?"
He grinned boyishly. "Yes, of course I've heard of it. In fact, I was just thinking that you might be sexually harassing me."
"What?"
"Well, you're the one who hiked up her skirt. I'm just observant, that's all."
"Trust me, it wasn't for your benefit. Now, I'll forget this, but please stop … observing me."
"I'll try, but it's difficult."
"Anything else you want to know about besides the status of my undergarments?"
"I hate to veer from such an interesting topic."
I shot him a cutting glance, and he smiled, somewhat apologetically.
"Okay, sorry. So what is your position?"
I sighed, both relieved and anxious about the change of topic. "Well, I'm kind of displaced right now."
"Displaced? How so?"
"I am-or rather I was-the assistant to Ronald Bellman, but he left. He was the head of marketing. They haven't replaced him yet, so I've been helping out other departments." It was all busywork, so I knew my days were numbered, even if the company succeeded through the wisdom of this arrogant dick sitting next to me.
"Why did he leave?"
"He got fired for making a comment about my garter belt," I snapped, relishing the opportunity to smirk back at Rick.
My comment didn't faze him, but only managed to amuse him more. "I'll try to remember that, Marley."
I hated the way he said my name, slower than the other words within the sentence … stretching out the syllables in that sexy voice of his. Actually, I loved it, which was why I hated it. It evoked a visible shiver, which I was sure he noticed. I decided it was best to stay focused on work topics only. "He went to work for that company with all the American Flags in their ads and no American clothes in their stores."
"Oh, I see. Well, that must be difficult for you." He ran his hands through his hair. It's funny how it all fell back in the same perfect pattern, like I'd instinctively known it would. I wondered if it did that when he got up in the morning. I sat up straighter, realising I was being precarious. I never crushed on guys like this. In fact, I made it a rule not to.
I didn't have to respond to him because my phone started ringing again. The caller ID flashed that it was my mom … again.
"Are you going to answer it this time?" His question sounded more like a command, and I didn't appreciate it.
"No!" I didn't mean to shout, but I did.
"I really think you should, Marley. It's the second time she's called."
"Do you answer the phone every time your mother calls, Rick?"