Текст книги "Pure Abandon"

Автор книги: Jeannine Colette

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Including myself. Especially since there are dozens of other people here, his eyes are completely focused on mine.

He takes a beat, clearly thinking over the matter. My heart skips when he speaks again. Not because he’s intimidating me. It’s because his tone is sincere. “I want the kids to have four minutes. It’s important. Take a look at the rundown and see if you can move the timing around.” I let out a breath and look down at my notepad. I thought it was the end of discussion, but he speaks again and completely catches me off guard. “If anyone can make this happen, it’s you.”

If we weren’t in a room full of people, I would probably ask him what kind of game he’s playing, but I can’t. Not only because we’re in a room full or people, but also because I, for the first time, don’t think he’s playing a game.

Is it possible the bastard can be sincere about one thing in his life?

When the meeting ends, I grab my belongings and rush to my office. Between Asher and Heather, I need to get far away. There’s no doubt in my mind Heather is stomping her feet in front of Erik right now. I, on the other hand, am ecstatic. I have the number one performer in the country at my event. I’ll have to get a list of requirements from Gretchen and work with Harvey on her introduction.

I close the door behind me and start working on my notes from the meeting. I have calls to make and an itinerary to change. Oh, and the New York Philharmonic to book! Knowing I have the Asher name behind my back, I have no doubt they will make themselves available to perform.

I take a seat in my sleek leather chair and start typing away. I don’t hear the door open or hear him come in. I actually don’t know why I look up but there he is, leaning against my wall with his arms folded, staring at me.

“You don’t like my flowers?”

He has removed his tie and jacket since the meeting, leaving him in black slacks and a dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up. He looks relaxed, yet his eyes gleam, determined.

My body pulls a Trish and my leg starts bouncing under the glass table. Tucking a stray hair that has fallen out of my twist behind my ear, I try to appear as professional as possible. I offer a polite smile and fold my hands on the desk in front of me. “While they are exquisite, I’m afraid I cannot accept them.”

Keeping his eyes trained on me, he asks, “And why can’t you accept them?”

Keep your cool, Kat.

“They are rather inappropriate, Mr. Asher.”

“Why ever so formal, Mrs. Monroe? Pray tell, why are they inappropriate?” His lips turn up in an indecent grin.

“Why do you insist on calling me by my married name?”

“Why do you answer a question with a question?” His voice is amused yet polite. He has a way of drawing me in with his charm, but I have to stay on my toes. So far I’m three for three with failed attempts at talking to this man. One of which I can’t blame him at all for. I need to maintain proper decorum.

“Mr. Asher…”

Unfolding his arms, Asher takes a step off the wall, closer to my desk. “Alex, just call me Alex.”

Ahh, just call me Alex. Those famous last words from the limo. Irritation sends blood pulsing through my veins. I keep my voice even and cross my shaking leg under my steady one. “Mr. Asher. With all due respect, I’m a married woman and cannot accept flowers from another man. Especially when he’s the one signing my checks.”

His face turns serious as his eyes squint, appraising me. “Do you always uphold such high moral ground?”

With his palms placed on my desk, Asher leans forward, driving that divine scent into my personal space. Our eyes lock. I stare at them like someone mesmerized by a pinwheel. Those flecks of gold and brown are a kaleidoscope for the devil.

He inches his body toward me until he’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin. I want to turn around, push my chair away from the desk. But, like always with this man, I freeze.

“Relax.” A slow, sexy smile creeps across his face before he pulls away and collapses into the chair in front of my desk.

What the…?

Well, it looks like we’ll be going four for four with awkward encounters.

Asher sits back… no, lounges back in the seat with his arms spread open, resting on each arm of the chair. He fills it far more than Trish. In fact, he actually makes the chair look small.

Oddly enough, his order to relax actually does calm my nerves a bit. It was in the tone. It was… earnest?

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

“You intrigue me.” He crosses his right leg over his knee. “You are the only person in this damn place who tells it like it is. I like you. I want to get to know you intimately.”

I must look like a deer in headlights. He leans back his head and laughs. A real laugh. Like a deep in the belly guttural laugh. It’s deep and smooth.

“No, no, not like that.” He holds up his hand while the other sits on his chest.

If not like that, then what?

He pauses as he tries to assess how to proceed. “Gray. May I call you Gray?”

I shake my head. “No.” We’re not doing nicknames.

He mouths the word no as a question, his lips forming a perfect O.

He leans over, placing his elbows on his knees. His legs spread wide, hitting the sides of the chair. “That’s fine. I like your name. Kathryn.” My name slides off his tongue like a dare. “It’s beautiful. It means pure.”

Pure? I’m far from it. Maybe once, a long time ago. Speaking of pure… “The white roses. They have to go.”

“The roses were meant as a peace offering. I should have told you who I was, but I swear I didn’t know who you were when you got in my car.”

I blink at him, unsure whether to assume he really did or did not know. “So you weren’t being inappropriate?”

He takes a deep breath. “To be honest, yes, I was coming on to you in the elevator, but I swear that was before I knew you were married. Scouts honor.” He holds up his fingers in some twisted Vulcan-type sign.

“You said I intrigue you. Intrigue how?” I ask.

“Fascinate, interest, beguile… Are you really going to make me list every SAT word I have in this head? Because I’ve got a lot of them. Appeal, bewitch… transfix…” He counts off the various words.

“I know what intrigue means. The question was, how?”

Clearly amused by himself, he smiles and then shrugs his shoulders. “You’re intense. You tell it like it is and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially me.”

Okay, that is so not me. What he just described is Malory. Have I really come off like that to him?

He continues. “I would have written you off, but there’s something about your work. You understand what I want to do with these concerts more than anyone else here.”

He seems genuine, yet, as with everything Asher, I tend to stay on my toes, not knowing what he’s going to say or do next. This is something I didn’t see coming. Not today, anyway.

My interest is piqued. “What do you mean you want to get to know me better?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle just enough to make him look like someone I’d want to get to know on a friendly level. Not the ultra-serious businessman that had me reeling for the last few weeks.

“You are a breath of fresh air. Women always tell me exactly what I want to hear and I know it’s because they want to get in bed with me to become the future Mrs. Alexander Asher.”

His conceit knows no bounds. “That is the most self-obsessed thing I’ve ever heard.”

His smile broadens, revealing beautiful white teeth. “See, that’s what I mean. You don’t feel the need to lie to me or jump through hoops. As hard as it may be for you to believe, most women see dollar signs around me and only want me for that single purpose.”

Does he not realize how gorgeous he is? I’m sure he’d get plenty of women if he were dirt poor, personality aside.

“And the men around here…” He continues. “They all want promotions or event tickets, trips on the private jet…” His list continues, and I wonder if he’s gloating or merely stating facts.

“Mr. Asher.” I use his name in an attempt to keep this relationship as professional as possible. “I doubt there isn’t a single person who can be upfront with you.”

“You are a rare breed.” He leans into my desk. “That’s why I’m here to apologize and ask for a truce. I mean it. I want to be your friend.”

This is so awkward. I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s forget the fact I’ve had some very odd dreams about him. One that happened to take place in this very office. Yes, we’re going forget about that.

This whole situation is just…

“Again, it’s inappropriate. For starters, I am your employee. And secondly, I’m married.” I flash my ring finger at him. Yes, today I am wearing one.

Asher nearly jumps out of his seat. “That’s exactly what I like about you. You’re taken. You have no interest in me and I have absolutely no interest in you. I can relax. Be myself. I know you’re not after anything.”

What does he mean absolutely no interest? I don’t know if I should be disappointed or relieved. He certainly had a thing for married women the night at the museum.

“Mr. Ash—”

“Please, call me Alex. You said it in the car. I like it when you say my name.” My mouth opens and he waves me off before I can say anything, “And, no, it’s not inappropriate. Consider yourself my consigliore, my right-hand man, my secretary of state.”

He’s being playful and it makes me smile, a tiny sliver of a smile I know he’s getting a kick out of. “I’ll take the title of ‘work friend.’ But first, you have to earn someone’s friendship.”

His brow puckers as if he’s never thought of that. Distorting his face, he looks as if he’s processing something. I decide to put him out of his misery and change the topic.

“Why are you here?”

His furrowed brows look back at me. “I thought I just explained—”

“No, why are you in the office today? You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow. You have the staff going crazy.”

“I have a very important date tomorrow.” He’s back to being Mr. Casual, leaning back in the seat.

“A date?” The words come out slow, accusatory. “You cause chaos amongst your staff because you have a date tomorrow?”

“No, not the kind of date you’re thinking of. I have somewhere very important to be every Friday afternoon until the concerts. And yes, if I want to surprise my staff with a surprise meeting, then I will. No one ever became a successful CEO by playing it safe with the staff.”

“You really do love yourself, don’t you?”

“Confidence, Gray. It’s the key to success.”

“Smug is more like it. And I said no nicknames.”

“That was before we were friends.” He pauses to look around the room. “Where is the umbrella?”

Oh shoot. The umbrella. It’s still under my desk in the box.

“It hasn’t rained so I haven’t had a chance to use it.”

His eyes light up and a satisfied smile brightens his face. “So you’re keeping it. Good. I picked it out just for you. My olive branch.”

“Olive branch accepted. But no more gifts. I mean it, Asher!”

“Asher? I like the stern connotation in your voice.” He’s mocking me with his eyes and his mouth.

“I’ll keep the umbrella, but the staff enjoys the roses. And yes, Asher, no more gifts!”

“Okay, okay. No more gifts. I’ve never had a woman tell me that twice.”

“I’m glad you’re counting.” I laugh lightly. I really want to dislike this man, but he’s so magnetic. As hard as I try, my eyes never leave his. The current between us is building. I know he can feel it too. Thank God for the desk as a barrier to our indiscretion.

Breaking the spell, Asher shakes his head and stares at the floor. He takes a breath and puts his hands on his legs, rising from the chair.

“All right. That’s all.” Just like that, the playful man is gone and back is the commanding CEO. “I want to see the new rundown with the amended time next week. Call my office and make an appointment.”

I feel awkward and slightly displaced. “Yes, sir.”

He is half out the door, his back to me, when he halts and speaks over his shoulder. “And, Gray. She’s not married… yet.”

If I could see his face, I’d swear there is a smile on it as he references the woman he went home with at the museum. Asher exits my office, closing the door behind him.

My shoulders drop and I realize how tense I am. I don’t think I’ve relaxed in the last two hours.

He’s back to being my mystery man.

Ugh, and I thought I said no nicknames.

Just because Asher has decided to form a truce between the two of us doesn’t mean I’m not on pins and needles with the thought of going to his office. I tried to get out of it. After perfecting the rundown this morning, I emailed it to him, hoping he’d approve it as he did the last set of documents.

To my surprise, my computer lets out a ping sound, signaling a new email in my inbox.

TIME: THURSDAY, JULY 8 10:04 A.M.

TO: GRAYSON, KATHRYN

FROM: ASHER, ALEXANDER

SUBJECT: YOU, ME, MEETING…

NOW

: )

At least he used a smiley face.

The elevator takes me up to the penthouse. It feels a long way away from the twenty-fourth floor.

When the doors open, I’m greeted with a reception area similar to the one Trish sits at, but more grandiose and missing a redhead. A woman I assume is Asher’s assistant, Cecelia, greets me. I had to call her, rather embarrassingly, asking if I should go up to the penthouse or if the meeting would be taking place in my office. I really had no idea.

She answered with a serious tone. “Mr. Asher travels for no one.”

I wanted to be snotty and tell her he’s been in my office twice since I met him, but the point is moot.

“Mr. Asher will be with you in one moment. Please, have a seat.” Cecelia’s tone is far more cordial than it was earlier. Although, she does take a minute to assess me from head to toe. Peeking down at my navy dress with a boat neck, long sleeves and a hemline that falls at the knee. I look like a professional. I’m sure Asher’s had a few Heathers come through here with their short skirts and low-cut shirts. Cecilia must have a field day people-watching.

The seating area is similar to the one downstairs, with its white leather sofas and chrome furniture. Instead of plasma screens, there’s a massive fish tank that takes up most of the wall. Inside are the most exotic sea creatures I’ve ever seen. Vibrant-colored exteriors with exquisite forms. Gabriel would get a kick out of this.

Cecelia disappears behind a large mahogany door and reappears seconds later to tell me I can enter. I make my way through the door and wonder if I should leave it open. I don’t want Cecelia getting the wrong idea.

The office is large, high-tech, and divided into four sections. Asher has a desk in front of a large picture window. He’s seated at his desk, his back to me, on the phone. I stand in the center of the room and look over the space.

There is a seating area set up like a mini living room, a small conference area, and, apropos, a bar. Behind the bar is a large television screen in which, if you look closely, you can see the seam where four individual screens meet up. The screens are currently acting individually, playing CNN, MSNBC, FOX News, and the BBC. All controlled by an iPad on the bar. Very cool. Very mega mogul headquarters.

Asher swings his chair around and keeps a serious expression on his face even after he sees me standing here. He continues to talk to the person on the other end of the call while I walk forward and situate myself in one of the desk chairs.

I feel awkward, almost like I’m eavesdropping on his call. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the least. As I spread my files on the table, Cecelia knocks on the door and walks in with two cups of coffee. “Two black, as you requested.”

I glance over at Asher, surprised he remembers how I like my coffee. Cecelia leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

Asher dismisses his call in the same way he’s ended every conversation and meeting I’ve ever witnessed. Abruptly. Not knowing which version of Asher I’m going to get today, I wait for him to speak first.

“We never did get to have our meeting. The one when we were so rudely interrupted by the rain.” Idyllic eyes twinkle as he motions toward the black coffees.

Taking a sip, I force my shoulders to relax. “You like your coffee black too?”

“Something else we have in common,” he says.

It takes me a second to realize what he means. Well, to be honest, I don’t entirely know what he meant, but I’m not going to ask. I’m pretty sure he’s talking about our common interest in the arts and in this project. He’s keeping a tally of our interests. Is that weird? Maybe he really doesn’t have anyone around here he can be on friendly terms with.

I take out my copies of the rundown and place one in front of each of us. Slipping into business mode, Asher goes through the entire document, minute by minute, second for second. He probably doesn’t know what he’s looking at. He’s a money guy, not a producer.

“A bar in the office. Very young mogul meets old-school businessman. I approve,” I offer. My awkward comment is met with his intense silence. I inhale through my nose and play with my fingers.

Asher leans back in his desk as he assesses the document. I’ve added the time he has requested but had to cut down on the three celebrity acts considerably to make up the difference. I also took time away from his speech. Let’s hope he’s a quick talker.

His blond hair looks darker in the dim light of the office. Everything about him seems a little darker. Although there is a giant window behind the desk, the light pouring through casts a shadow in variations of black and white around his solid frame.

I shift my weight in my seat. “There is additional commercial block built in there. Malory has been doing a kickass job selling ad space.”

“She should. We’ve contracted out the ad sales to another company,” he says, flipping the page.

I swallow. My nails are incredibly fascinating to me right now. I don’t do well in silent situations. It’s like I have this innate desire to fill the empty void with chatter. And once I say something, I immediately wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

So I just sit and stare. At least the view is nice.

Asher’s lips pucker and he slides the pen down the document, reading every word and number on the page. His eyes skim over the same portion of the paper a few times, trailing back and forth from left to right. Either he disagrees with something on the page or…

“You don’t know how to read a rundown, do you?”

His head pops up betraying a mixture of surprise and insult that I asked the question.

What the hell is wrong with me? For someone who has spent her life keeping her idiotic thoughts to herself, I certainly have diarrhea of the mouth when I’m around this man.

I lower my lids and let out a sigh, feeling so foolish for accusing my boss of not knowing how to read a simple production document. A second later, when I open my eyes, I’m surprised when I see, instead of an affronted mogul, something else.

The left side of his mouth is curled up and he lets out a light chuckle from deep in his throat. “You got me. I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

A gush of air washes out from my lungs. And with that air comes all the nervous energy I carry when I’m around here. I let out a huge unattractive snort and then try to cover it up with my hand laugh.

“Amused?” he asked, his mouth still bent.

I gather my wits and wipe a tear from my eye. “No. I mean, yes.” I cough and then take a deep breath, sitting up straight again to regain my self-control. “I’m sorry. That was rather unprofessional.”

Asher drops the document on his desk and leans forward, folding his hands into each other and placing them on his desk. “It’s okay. Maybe you can show me what I’m looking at.”

This should be interesting. One would think someone of his stature would know how to do just about anything.

I grab the arms of my chair and scoot myself closer so I can lean forward and look at the rundown he placed on his desk. Using my pen, I point to the column all the way to the left and tell him the program is portioned out into blocks categorized with letters of the alphabet. Each block contains a segment of the event, whether it be a speech, a performance, or an interview. Pretty much every element of the show is given its own block, and with each block comes a block of time. If Asher knows any of this already, he doesn’t allude to it. He lets me move along explaining each portion of the document, how to read the time that’s been allotted, where the commercial breaks are, and the various elements that will be in place for each block of the show.

He’s a quick study and starts making changes immediately. No surprise, his changes are good, but not simple. The tricky thing about creating a rundown is making one change has a domino effect on the pieces before and after the change.

We take our pens and start marking up the pages. His black and my blue pen shooting over the white pages like a piece of modern art.

“You can’t do that,” I say.

“Why not? We just took thirty seconds from Crystalis’s performance.”

“Because you have to hit your commercial break at exactly nine thirty-four or else the network will cut you off. Network commercial breaks go to air whether you’re ready for them or not.” Looking down at the paper, I don’t even know which changes I’ll be able to keep. The page looks like a toddler got his hands on a pen and started scratching up the paper. “Let me work on this some more and I’ll get it back to you.”

I grab the papers from the desk and stand up. I’ve been in the office for half an hour. He must have another appointment after me.

“Why don’t we keep going?” He stands and grabs his phone off his desk.

Watching him make his way from behind his desk, I explain, “We could, but you really need to be on the computer to do this and the software is in my office…”

“So let’s go to your office.” Asher’s hand is on the door. He opens it and calls out to Cecelia. “Cancel my afternoon appointments.”

My feet are still planted on the floor as Asher looks back at me, holding the door open. Does he really want to work from my office? Should I be surprised he cancelled his afternoon appointments to work on a rundown with me?

I suppose the lesson here is I should stop being surprised by anything Asher.

Shrugging, I move one foot in front of the other and lead Asher down to my office.

The elevator ride isn’t nearly as exciting as the last two I’ve shared with him. I’m surprisingly comfortable this time. Perhaps it’s because the elevator stops on a few floors on the way down to accommodate other passengers. The company is very welcome.

We make our way to Asher-Marks Communications and I lead the way to my office, ignoring the stares of colleagues who see Asher on the floor… with me.

Asher and I take seats at my desk, me on my side and him in the guest seat. After I log in, I pull up the software and then tilt the computer so we both can see. We go through the notes we made together and start making the changes. I explain why we can’t do things and then he tells me I have to, and somehow I manage to make it happen.

At noon, he orders food for lunch and Trish brings it in when it arrives. By one, Asher has asked to see the production details I have so far. He isn’t impressed by how much work still needs to be done on them, and I explain he was the major holdup. He laughs, apologizes, and then tells me what I need to have completed by the end of the week.

He’s authoritative, but he’s not bossy. He’s direct, but not mean. He has a way of saying things to me about my work that I don’t find condescending. And while just last week I thought he was the rudest person on the planet, this afternoon I find myself respecting his opinion.

Why? Because he is so passionate about this project it’s hard to fault him on anything else.

By two, my stomach is full and my desk is full of files. Asher stands up and puts his suit jacket back on. He had taken it off, along with his tie, when the Thai food arrived. He ate an incredibly spicy curry dish and said he has a penchant for ruining ties with his lunch. Apparently, he never has lunch situations as casual as this. He said I’d probably cry if I saw the amount of money he spent on ties every year. I found it was so against character for him to have said it. He always seems so poised and controlled.

Fixing the tie around his neck, Asher looks down at me still seated behind my desk. “You know, doing the concert in the park was a good idea. Doing two events was a great idea. Although, I have to admit, if anyone else mentioned it, I wouldn’t have approved it.”

I cock my head to the side. “Then why did you?”

He swings the tie around the knot he just formed and up from the back to secure it in place. “I like to challenge people. I wanted to challenge you.”

I bite down on my lip. Do I even want to know the answer to this? “Why?”

Looking down at me, his eyes turn serious, like molten lava from a volcano. They find mine as they do every time he wants me to know he means what he has to say. “Because I can.”

It’s the last thing he says before turning around and heading out of the office. Exhaling, I slump in my chair, trying to comprehend how my relationship with Asher did a one-eighty.

My office, the one that seemed so small moments before, now seems huge. I glide my hands along the glass surface of my desk, hoping the cool, smooth surface will bring me back to reality. I look for something to fiddle with and end up with a pen. My space is so impersonal. I need to bring in pictures of Gabriel and Jackson. Their smiling faces will definitely help ground me when the scenarios become too intense. I upload the photo from my phone and add it to my computer desktop.

I have a security list I have to submit to, Marci, the woman in charge of compiling all the lists and making sure only the right people are allowed backstage access. I stare at the list I started earlier, looking for a distraction. An hour later, I have yet to add a single thing to the document and I’ve chewed the cap off my pen. I’m far too distracted by my previous company.

I’m only pulled back into reality when my phone rings.

“Hey, baby.” Gabriel is unusually chipper for midweek. I feel instant calm. Just hearing his voice grounds me.

“I needed to hear your voice.”

“Everything okay? Asher riding you hard today?”

I nearly fall out of my chair. My pen, however, does fall from my hand. Thank God it’s the only thing I’m holding.

“Not exactly. Just… overwhelmed.”

“That is a way to describe you in most scenarios, Kat. But you always manage to come out on top.”

“Thank you. Where are you?”

“I was calling to say I’m heading home early. I can’t take the office anymore, and I just want to hang out with Jack. Maybe take him to the park or something.”

“That sounds great. I’m jealous.” I smile back at the desktop photo of Gabriel and Jackson.

“Since you’re having a crazy day, why don’t you go get a manicure or something on your way home? You need some alone time. Jack and I can do some male bonding.”

“You’re amazing, Gabe, but I’m good. I’ll just come home.”

“Are you sure? You should do something for yourself.”

Do something for myself? I look at the calendar on my computer and see the inter office event scheduled for tonight.

“Well…my coworkers are going out after work for drinks for Heather’s birthday. Do you mind if I do that instead?”

“That sounds like fun. You need to make more friends.”

“I find my life is quite full. Why do I need anyone but you and Jackson?”

“That’s why we love you. Go out tonight. Have fun. Just promise you’ll take a cab home.”

“I will. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, baby.”

Yes, a drink is exactly what I need to unwind.