What You Need(47)
Nods of agreement around the room.
“Good. Individual schedules are in your in-box. If you need me, I’ll be at the drugstore loading up on antacids and aspirin.”
I’d been there one hour and it was already looking to be a very long week.
*
My heart raced when I saw Brady enter the employee break room on Wednesday just after noon. The man wore a suit like no other. His hair wasn’t as styled as usual and I wondered if it was an incidental side effect from running his hand through it.
He scanned the room—I had the foolish hope he was looking for me. I hadn’t seen him since Saturday night. When his gaze landed on me, his lips curled into a knowing smile before he grabbed something out of the industrial fridge. Then his cousin Ash strolled in and a collective silence filled the space.
Two Lund corporate officers breaking bread with the lowest-level employees?
Brady handed Ash a plastic container and they made their way to a table by the windows.
“That’s odd, isn’t it? The CFO has deigned to eat in here. Think the catering company quit? Or maybe just his personal chef?”
“He doesn’t have a personal chef,” I said without thinking. I felt Sydney staring at me.
“And you know that how?”
“Something about that came up when I was in his office last week,” I said offhandedly.
Sydney speared a chunk of her salad. “Whatever happened with that project?”
“It’s ongoing.” I changed the subject.
And it worked for fifteen minutes . . . until Brady wandered over. He shoved his hands in his pockets and made a point of looking at Sydney first. Then me. “So how’re things in the secretarial pool?”
I knew he said that to get a rise out of me. So I didn’t disappoint him. “‘Secretarial pool’ is an antiquated term, Mr. Lund.”
“As I’m aware, Miss Greene. But the term floater isn’t appealing. What the office temps need is a cool moniker like the IT or HR departments have.”
“Maybe HR should run a contest. The person who creates the cleverest name wins a paid day off from work.”
“Excellent suggestion. I’ll bring it up at our next staff meeting.” Brady smiled at me and I got that funny tickle in my belly. “Perhaps even I’ll submit something.”
“Make sure you do it anonymously. We wouldn’t want to end up with a stu—” Crap. I couldn’t say that. “Stuck with a name HR chose as a winner only because the CFO suggested it and they felt pressure to choose your entry by default.”
Brady raised that one eyebrow at me and my face heated. Not from embarrassment, but the last time he did that I ended up plastered body to body with him, my mouth fused to his.
Sydney, apparently oblivious to the sexual tension winging between us, leaned in to get his attention. “I, for one, would be happy if you submitted a suggestion, since that indicates upper-level management is aware of the necessity of our department.”
Dammit, Syd. Don’t go there.
Brady broke his gaze and focused on Sydney. “I realize I initially misunderstood the wide range of responsibilities the office temps undertake, but I assure you, I’m fully aware of the importance of the department now.”
“Does Anita Mohr know that?”
“Pardon?”
“Are you fully aware that Ms. Mohr has mounted an internal investigation of what we office temps ‘do’ on a daily basis? And each one of us has to report to the assigned two-person oversight committee every day?”
I watched as the mask that he wore as CFO slipped back into place. “Yes, it’s standard procedure and that’s all I can say.” He smiled at Sydney. “But thank you for the reminder.” Then Brady’s gaze moved to me and pinned me in place. “Miss Greene. Please speak to my admin about scheduling a brief meeting at the end of the day today regarding that project we’re working on.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll do it as soon as I finish my lunch.”
“Thank you. Enjoy your day, ladies.” After that, he walked off.
*
One benefit of being a floater was that even with the daily schedule changes, we spent the last half hour of our workday back in our department. Today, it allowed me time to gather my thoughts before dealing with the CFO.
None of my coworkers were back at their desks, since some departments at Lund worked from seven to four or from nine to six, not just the eight-to-five shift. I e-mailed Lola my report, gathered my things and headed up the nearly forty floors into the lion’s den.
Jenna smiled at me warmly and indicated I should wait while she finished her phone conversation.
“Yes, sir. Mr. Lund will accept the invitation. Please forward all the information to me at the e-mail address that’s listed on the letterhead and we’ll coordinate his schedule from there. Thank you.” Jenna touched her earpiece and used the stylus to scribble on her tablet. Then she looked up at me. “Lennox. I’ll let Mr. Lund know you’re here.”