About That Fling (18 page)

“Preferably with your pants on,” Jenna added, folding her arms over her chest.

Kendall pressed her palms against a thick file on the table in front of her. “We’ve already spoken with Susan Schrader, the intended recipient of your—uh—”

“Artistic imagery,” Jenna supplied, willing herself not to look at the photo. Or at Adam. Or—Christ, was there any place safe to look?

“Susan does not intend to press charges,” Kendall continued. “Apparently the message, while not solicited, was not rebuffed.”

“Though not using the company’s e-mail system,” Adam clarified.

“Or her stapler,” Jenna said, daring a glance at the photo again. “Though she did feel it was an artistic touch to position it like that.”

They all stared for a moment at the photograph, at the stapler that bore a strategically placed nameplate that read, ‘property of Susan Schrader.’ Jenna tried to imagine the straight-laced nursing manager bouncing in her chair as she opened the message. It was a mental picture she could do without, so she turned her attention back to Brett.

“Do you have any questions for us?” she asked. “Or anything to add?”

“Thank you,” Brett said, nodding at the photo with a sense of pride Jenna thought was sorely misplaced. But it wasn’t her place to say so.

It was her job to make sure this story didn’t get out. To keep a lid on things so the local media didn’t turn this into a circus and distract the organization from helping patients and doing good work in the community. That’s why they were all here, dammit. For the patients. Not for bureaucratic bullshit or climbing corporate ladders or earning money or any of those other things.

At the heart of this, that’s what it all came down to. That’s why she did this job.

She was feeling good about her little pep talk until she glanced at the photo again. Good Lord, had the man never heard of manscaping? At least a little trim here and there, or some general tidying around his—

“So I’m going to do my best to make this go away,” Jenna said. “The potential scandal, not your penis.”

Adam nodded. “Belmont Health System frowns upon castration as a motivational tool. Clinical studies have shown positive reinforcement is a much more effective form of inspiring employee performance.”

He choked a little on the word
performance,
and Jenna had to look away so she didn’t lose it completely. She stood up, deciding it was time to call a halt to the meeting before things took a turn for the worse.

“Brett, I hope you’re able to use this as a learning tool.”

“A valuable tool, yes,” Adam agreed, getting to his feet as well. Jenna avoided his eyes.

Kendall stood as well, though she looked a little uncertain. She glanced from Jenna to Adam, then back at Brett. “Mr. Lombard, I have some paperwork I’d like you to fill out. This will become a part of your permanent personnel record, which is a confidential document. It will, however, be made available to your supervisor, which could have an impact on your career in the event that you decide to change departments.”

“I understand,” he said, joining the rest of them on their feet. “Is, uh—is the photo going in my file?”

“A detailed account of the incident will be recorded in your file, and we’ll make a note of the fact that you’re treading dangerously close to the company’s policy about fraternization among co-workers,” Kendall replied. “Since you and Ms. Schrader work in different departments, you’re not technically breaking company policy, though the fact that you’re members of the same union and bargaining team complicates the matter.”

“But the photo? What happens to that?”

“The photograph will be destroyed. Both the file and the printout.”

“I see,” he said, looking down at the image. “I understand.”

“If you’ll meet me in my office, we can take care of that paperwork.”

Brett nodded as Kendall reached across the table and snatched the photo. She folded it in two, creasing it sharply down the middle. Brett looked a little forlorn, but he turned and walked out of the room. Kendall watched the door close, then turned to Adam and Jenna.

“Thank you for being a part of the discussion.”

“I appreciate you including us,” Jenna said. “Your instincts were spot on. This is the sort of scandal that could derail the whole negotiation process.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kendall agreed. “The last thing this organization needs right now is bad PR with the community or the staff. Even a small scandal like this could make everything implode.”

Jenna nodded, swallowing hard. The words hung there between them like bubbles, and she fought the urge to reach out and pop them. She thought of her secret liaisons with Adam, of Gertie’s book.

Adam stood up and pushed in his chair. “You know, at some point, this organization is going to need to review some of its more antiquated policies.”

Kendall blinked at him. “Are you suggesting employees should have free rein to use company e-mail to send photos of their genitalia?”

“Of course not. But the policy manual hasn’t been updated for six years, back when the old CEO was still here. From what I’ve learned in my short time with Belmont, the company culture has shifted significantly since then.”

Jenna stood up, not sure where Adam was headed with this. Was he talking about the fraternization policy, or puritanical views in general? Either way, she couldn’t risk Kendall catching on.

“This is certainly a valuable discussion,” Jenna said, straightening her chair with a little more force than she intended. “Perhaps we should table it until we’ve gotten through some of the meatier topics we’re covering in the negotiations?”

Kendall nodded. “Agreed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to Mr. Lombard.”

She hustled out the door, the poster-sized dick pic still gripped in her hand. The instant the door closed behind her, Adam turned to look at Jenna. “There’s a photo worth adding to the family album.”

Jenna groaned and shook her head. “Good Lord, this is not what we need right now. Scandal on the bargaining team? Dick pics and co-workers bumping uglies? The newspaper would have a heyday with this.”

Adam regarded her curiously for a moment. “But you’re making sure they don’t.”

“That’s right. That’s my job.”

“You’re very good at it.”

“I know.”

Neither of them said anything else right away. Jenna glanced around the room, wondering if they were being watched or recorded. She doubted it—was that even legal?—but she couldn’t be too careful. She could never be too careful.

“Well,” she said, meeting Adam’s eyes at last. “Thank you for being here. I think it helped give Brett a better sense of how this whole thing fits with the big picture.”

“Big picture,” Adam repeated. “Could Kendall have printed that thing any larger?”

Jenna snort-laughed. “I couldn’t look away.”

“If she was trying to make a point, I think she succeeded.”

“You mean like keep your pants zipped at Belmont or else?”

“Something like that,” Adam said, his eyes softening a little as he looked into hers. “We’ll have to use that in the company mission statement when we work on that next week.”

“Along with ‘thou shalt not use company e-mail to transmit porn.
’
” Jenna felt her phone buzz and glanced at it, expecting an alert about her next meeting. Instead, she saw a text message from Sean wishing her a good afternoon.

“Bad news?”

She glanced up at Adam. “What?”

“You looked at your phone and scowled. Just making sure it wasn’t bad news on the Belmont negotiation front.”

“No, it’s not. I mean—it’s a personal message.”

“Oh?”

Jenna couldn’t tell from his inflection if it was a question or a statement, and his expression was perfectly neutral. She knew she didn’t owe him an explanation, but found herself babbling one anyway.

“It’s Sean. My ex. He invited me to some charity event next month and I told him I’d consider it. Purely professional.”

Adam quirked an eyebrow. “A professional date?”

“It’s not a date. Not exactly. Several Belmont administrators sit on the board of directors for the charity and—”

“Jenna, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

She nodded, then looked away. “I haven’t agreed to go. I’m thinking about it. Thinking about a lot of things, really.”

“Me, too.”

Something about the softness in his voice made her meet his eyes again, and she felt her stomach twist into a tight, fizzy knot. The backs of her knees began to tingle, and she touched a hand to a chair to steady herself.

It was ridiculous. She’d fielded half a dozen calls from Sean since they’d run into each other, and the ones she hadn’t ignored had left her feeling flat and unaffected. How was it possible mere eye contact with Adam could make every atom in her body flicker like twinkle lights?

She looked away, letting her gaze fall to her watch. “I have to get to a meeting over in the ER. I’ll see you in the next mediation session?”

“I promise to wear pants and leave my porn at home.”

“Good plan,” she said, giving him one last look. “It’s a pleasure working with you.”

“Likewise.”

She turned away, the formality of it all making her jaw ache.

The next morning, Adam made it a point to greet every member of the bargaining team—including Brett Lombard—with a smile and a handshake.

His ex-wife’s grasp was cool and familiar, and she pulled away quickly as though fearful he hadn’t washed his hand after using the bathroom. Jenna was up next, and Adam held her gaze as he closed his palm around hers.

“Jenna. Good to see you.”

“You, too,” she said, and hurried past, leaving Adam with his fingers tingling.

As soon as everyone had filed in, he returned to his spot at the front of the room. “We’re going to start the next segment of the mediation with some training in Nonviolent Communication strategies.”

He took a seat on the table in front of the podium. As usual, it was vacant, with none of the bargaining team willing to occupy the front row. “Is anyone here familiar with NVC principles?” He scanned the room, making a point to meet every set of eyes.

Okay, maybe not Jenna’s. Or his ex-wife’s. And Brett Lombard looked away the instant Adam’s eyes caught his. Still, twelve out of fifteen wasn’t bad.

No one raised a hand, so Adam hopped off the table and picked up a pile of handouts. He split the stack in half, handing one pile to Nancy Jensen in the far corner of the room. Nancy took one and passed it behind her while Adam made his way to the opposite side of the room. Halfway there, he realized Jenna occupied the far corner. He tried not to let his hand brush hers as he handed the stack to her. She looked up at him and flushed, but her gaze slipped away quickly.

Adam turned and retreated to the front of the room. “NVC, Nonviolent Communication, is also known as Compassionate Communication. It’s a way of taking a conversation out of a framework of judgment and blame. Can anyone take a guess what sort of response you generally get when you communicate with someone using judgment and blame?”

The silence stretched out for a few beats, but Adam waited.

“Defensiveness?”

Adam nodded at Susan Schrader, trying not to imagine her admiring the photo of Brett’s junk. “That’s right. Anything else?”

“A punch in the crotch.”

Adam wasn’t sure who said it, but a few titters of laughter cropped up around the room, so he smiled. “That’s right. Also known as a counterattack, either literal or figurative. So instead of prompting that sort of response, we want to learn to speak and hear from the heart to create harmony and understanding. We learn to express feelings and universal needs, as opposed to judgments.”

In the right corner of the room, the CEO yawned. Adam stifled the urge to clock the guy in the head. It was always the ones who needed it the most who tuned out first.

“Jon, would you help me out with a little demonstration?”

The CEO looked up, his brow creasing in an expression Adam had come to recognize as the reluctance of a man who would rather be asked to stick a hot fork in his eye and twist.

“Absolutely,” Jon said. “Always happy to participate in anything that can help facilitate this valuable process.”

Bullshit,
Adam thought, which was precisely the judgmental language he needed the group to avoid.

He slid back onto the table with his feet on a chair, bracing his arms across his knees. “Okay, let’s start off with a personal example, shall we? Tell us about something in your home life that routinely causes friction between you and another member of your household. It can be anything.”

The CEO frowned, clearly trying to decide how much personal information he wished to reveal. Adam half expected him to report that his life was devoid of personal conflict, so he was surprised when Jon spoke again.

“My wife is a neat freak,” he said. “Always straightening pillows and snapping at me if I leave a bowl on the kitchen counter. We’ve been married twenty-seven years, but we keep having the same fight over and over.”

Adam nodded, intrigued by this human side of the man who, just last week, had called members of the nurses’ union “whiny little crybabies.”