“I shouldn’t have to clarify that since you’ve worked here for—what, ten months? Financial terms should be familiar to you by now.”
He was chastising me? First thing? My mouth opened before my brain screamed, STOP. “I’ve been employed here for almost a year, actually. And, sir, I’ll remind you that just because the office temps department is located on the sixth floor—one of the five floors that are the providence of the financial department—we floaters don’t specifically work only for the Finance department at Lund Industries. We also float between Human Resources, Marketing, Development and Acquisitions, as well as Legal.”
“Explain what you mean by floaters.”
“You had absolutely no idea that our small department exists, let alone what we do, do you?” I said tartly.
I heard Sydney suck in a sharp breath next to me. “What she means is that since as CFO you have an executive assistant and don’t normally utilize the services of the office temps—also known as floaters—you wouldn’t personally be aware of the breadth of our responsibilities,” Sydney inserted diplomatically. “Our department is supervised by Personnel.”
“Indeed. Then, please, enlighten me on which department you’re transcribing that document for?”
“Marketing.”
“Mind if I take a look?” Then he sidestepped my desk and sidled in behind me.
My body went rigid as he literally looked over my shoulder. I wasn’t as disturbed by the thought he might see something I had done wrong as I was by his close proximity. His very close proximity, since I could feel the heat of his body and was treated to a whiff of his subtle cologne.
He put his hand over mine on the mouse and murmured, “Pardon,” as he completely invaded my space. I didn’t move because it’d be my luck if I shifted my arm and elbowed the CFO in the groin.
Three clicks and two huffed breaths later, he retreated. “I apologize. I understand your confusion. Marcus in Marketing misused the word. It should be disburse. Nice catch.”
“That’s my job.”
“Since it’s a formal request, Marcus will have to correct it before you can pass it on to Legal. If you’ll give me the original paperwork, I’d be happy to drop it off in Marcus’s office on my way to my meeting.”
“Thank you, sir, for the offer. But company protocol requires me to deliver the paperwork directly to Marcus—Mr. Benito.”
His shoes were so silent I didn’t hear him move. One second he was behind me; the next he stood in front of me. “A real stickler for the rules, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” I finally met his gaze. “With all due respect, how do I know this isn’t some sort of performance review pretest?”
His lack of a smile indicated he wasn’t amused.
But I didn’t back down; I needed this job. It was the first job I’d ever had where I wasn’t slinging drinks or scrubbing toilets. Besides, the CFO—of all people—should be aware of the rules.
“Bravo, Miss Greene—sorry, that’s an assumption on my part. Or is it Mrs. Greene?”
“No, sir. Ms. Greene is fine. But I prefer to be called Lennox.”
Then Mr. Freakishly Perfect bestowed the mother lode of smiles; his lush lips curved up, his dimples popped out and the lines by his eyes crinkled. “Well, Lennox, please see that Marcus—Mr. Benito—is aware of his error before day’s end, because I will follow up on this.”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded and started down the hallway.
I clenched my teeth to keep my jaw from dropping. Not just from the weird interlude, but because the man looked as good from the back as he did from the front.
“Holy shit.” Sydney breathed after she was sure he’d gone. “What was that?”
“No idea.”
“Lennox. He knows your name.”
“Of course he knows my name. It’s right here on my desk.” Working as a floater meant my nameplate went everywhere with me, but on the days I was at my desk I usually didn’t bother putting it out.
Aren’t you glad you bothered today?
“Come on. He was fishing for information on whether you were single.”
I groaned, hating that Sydney wouldn’t let this go. “So, now he knows . . .”
“Maybe he’ll ask you out,” she said with a drawn-out sigh.
“Maybe you should put some of that creative thinking into your report,” I retorted, and got back to work.
*
Brady
“Jenna. Could you come in when you have a free moment?”
I didn’t wait for my admin to answer. I just poked the intercom button off and spun around in my chair. Not even the forty-fourth-floor view of downtown Minneapolis held my interest.