Confessions of an Alli Cat (7 page)

And once again, I have the feeling that I know him. It’s frustrating.

He wraps things up and mingles for a bit, then makes his way to me. 

“Would you be so kind as to meet me in my office in five minutes or so?”  He smiles.  And my knees feel weak. 

Shit. This can’t be good.  I can’t work with weak knees. 

I nod.  “Of course.  I’ll be there.”

“Good.”  He smiles again and takes his leave.  Taylor steps forward and nudges me. 

“Can I say I told you so yet?”

I glare at her.  “No. You can’t.”

“Okay,” she chirps cheerfully.  “It’s enough to know that it’s true.”

She trots off to chatter with someone else, someone more willing to gush over our new boss with her.  I do what any self-respecting and normal female does before meeting with her sexy-as-hell new boss.  I sprint to the ladies room to freshen my lipstick. 

Four point five minutes later, I am knocking softly on Alex’s office door, my lips perfectly done. 

“Come in,” he calls from behind his desk.  He stands up as I enter and waves his hand toward one of the two plush leather chairs in front of his large desk.  “Please sit.  Make yourself comfortable.”  I choose a seat. 

“Thank you for chatting with me,” Alex says cordially.  I can’t help but notice how he fills out his tailored shirt now that he’s removed his suit jacket.  I can practically see the muscles rippling behind the expensive cotton blend.  This is a man who is no stranger to a gym.

“Of course,” I answer demurely, or my best imitation of what I think demure ought to be.  “I didn’t know exactly what all you would want to discuss, so I’m afraid I’m a little unprepared.  I didn’t bring anything with me.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Alex says, smiling.  “I simply wanted to get your take on this department and how things are currently run.  You head it up, correct?”

I nod.  “Yes.  I’ve worked here for ten years.  I started out as a middle manager and then after I earned my MBA, I started moving up the ranks.”

Alex glances at a file on his desk.  “And now you’re an executive director in control of a very key department in this company.  Marketing is imperative to any company’s growth.  You must feel the stress from time to time.  Do you handle stress well?”

That’s a very strange question, I decide as I stare at him. 

“Yes, I do,” I answer honestly. 

“Good,” he answers.  “Because I see here that you’re recently divorced.  I don’t usually pry into my staff’s private affairs, but I’d like to know if you’ll still be able to handle your professional stress level when it is combined with your personal stress?”

I stare at him and he stares back.  He is calm and quiet and I am sure that he is unflappable.  His dark gaze is unwavering.  He is still beautiful, though, even when he is prying into my personal affairs and asking uncomfortable questions.

“My divorce was nine months ago,” I tell him.  “The bulk of the stress came during the first month.  I’m fine now, I can assure you, just as I’ve been fine for the duration of my divorce.  I’ve worked here for a long time.  I know this company like the back of my hand.  I can handle anything you throw at me and then ask for more.”

My chin has automatically come up.  It is annoying to me that this new guy thinks he can question my ability to do my job.  I can do twice as much as he can with one hand tied behind my back.  Of that, I am sure.  He looks surprised by my determined tone.

“Allison, I meant no offense,” he tells me soothingly.  “I have been through a divorce.  I only ask because I know what a toll it took on me.  Those things are stressful.  I just needed to know if I should let this department continue as it is for the time being or if you would be okay handling some of the changes that I would like to implement immediately.  I wasn’t questioning your abilities, I can assure you.  I’ve heard glowing things about you from everyone here.  You are well respected by your staff and your colleagues alike.”

My dander immediately goes back down and my feathers become smooth again.  If I had them, which of course I don’t. 

“Oh,” I say.  I don’t really know what else
to
say.  “I’m sorry if I sounded defensive.  It’s just that this company has been sort of a ‘Good ol’ boys’ company for a long time.  I had to claw my way to where I’m at.  And I can’t let it be thought that I am weak.  Because I’m not.”

“I have no doubt,” Alex assures me.  “And what do you mean by Good Ol’ Boys?”

I flinch.  “Um.  Okay.  Maybe that was a bad choice of words.  What I meant was that there aren’t a lot of women in executive positions here.  It’s mainly older men who have been here for a very long time.  It’s like a club.  And I had to fight my way in.”

“You had to kick down those glass ceilings with your high heels?” Alex grins and I inhale.  Sweet Lord, the man’s smile is breath-taking. 

“In a matter of speaking,” I nod. 

He nods back.  “Good.  I like for my staff to have spunk.  I like the fact that you’ve got it.”

His gaze is appreciative and warm and that warmth transfers to me, flooding my face and my limbs.  I have no idea how this is going to play out… me working for this new sexy boss.  Particularly since he is as charming as he is handsome.  That’s a recipe for utter destruction if I’ve ever seen it. 

“Can you tell me a little about how this department is run?” he asks.  I am distracted by his hands.  I have a thing for sexy male hands.  If a man has long, strong fingers, I’m all in.  And Alex certainly does. I grit my teeth. 

“Of course,” I answer. 

So I spend the next thirty minutes ignoring his sexy hands and explaining how I have three directors, five senior managers and then forty lower level employees in this department who report to me and ultimately report to him.  I explain the processes.  I explain the current strategies that we’re working on.  I explain the company’s current culture, even.  And I do it all while ignoring his gorgeous hands. 

I feel pretty proud of myself as I finish up.

I’ve obviously got amazing fortitude.

When I’m through speaking, I look at my new boss, waiting for a reaction.  Alex sits back and swivels in his chair.  His limbs are all sprawled out and he is very relaxed looking.  And sexy.  Did I mention sexy already? 

He nods, thinking to himself.  He spins and stares out the window.  He temples his fingers, blowing on them.  Finally, he turns back to me. 

“I like it.  I like the current hierarchy.  We’ll keep that in place.   I have a special project that I’d like your input on, but we can discuss that later.” 

He stands up and holds out his hand. 

“Allison, it has been a pleasure meeting you.  I feel confident that you and I are going to work very well together.  We’ll make a great team.”

I smile back and shake his hand, trying to ignore the electric sensations that ripple through my body as I touch him. 

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, too.  I’m excited to see what ideas you have about moving the company forward.”

He walks me to the door and I make my way back to my office. 

As I walk in, I glance at the lavish furnishings, the leather chairs, the spacious area and the surrounding windows.  I’ve worked hard as hell for this corner office.  I’m not going to lose focus now over a new boss who just happens to be sexy and has a beautiful freaking smile. 

I’ve got this. 

I’ve
so
got this.

I continue feeling proud of myself all afternoon, as I stay in career-superwoman-mode instead of thinking about my new boss or even Shade.  I do some sales trajectories, I work on a marketing plan and then I sit down with Taylor and go through my schedule for the following day.  I do all of this without letting my mind wander.

I seriously am freaking Superwoman.

Not Superwoman enough, though, to cook dinner tonight.  I’m too freaking tired for that nonsense.  So on the way home, I stop and grab some take-out.  Sophie will be happy about that, anyway.  It will mean that we won’t need to clean up the kitchen after dinner.

As I burst through the doors with food in one hand, my briefcase in the other and my bottle of water and mail balanced somewhere in between, I call out a hello. 

No answer. 

Okay.  No big deal.  I know she’s home because she left the front door standing wide open when she came in from school and her backpack right inside the doorway.  She probably just can’t hear me because she’s got her ear-buds in again.  I might as well pay to have them surgically implanted in her head.  It would make her life a lot easier, I ‘m sure. 

I kick off my heels, sort through the mail and answer one quick e-mail on my phone before I hear laughter coming from the backyard through the French patio doors.  And a male voice. My head snaps up.  What the hell?  Sophie knows the rules.  No male friends over when I’m not home.  I stomp to the patio, ready to ground her. 

I throw open the doors and storm outside. 

And stop dead in my tracks with my mouth hanging wide open. 

Shade is in the pool with Sophie. 

My daughter is with the gigolo that I had sex with. 

Right now.

In my pool.

I am stunned.  Appalled. Frozen in place.

He’s not touching her.  He’s next to her in the water, motioning with his arms.  He’s obviously wearing swim-trunks.  And he’s obviously beautiful.  And wet.  And next to my freaking daughter.

Sophie looks up and sees me, waving. 

“Hey, mom!” she calls, smiling. 

Shade turns to greet me and his expression freezes. 

He didn’t know whose daughter he was with.  That much is apparent.  

But that doesn’t change the fact that he is still here. With my daughter.

Did I mention
with my daughter??

Obviously, I do the only thing that any healthy red-blooded female can do. 

I freak out. 

Big time.

Chapter Seven

(Or: I’m going to hell in a hand-basket)

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, practically breaking my neck to get to the water’s edge.  I reach in and haul Sophie out of the pool by her swimsuit straps, ignoring the fact that the chlorinated water is ruining my $250 silk blouse.

Sophie stares at me in shock, as does Shade.

And I have to admit.  My high-pitched screech does sound a bit unbalanced. 

But to be fair, I did just find my gigolo in my pool with my fifteen-year old daughter.

Have I mentioned that already?

“Mom,” Sophie hisses.  “Stop!  You’re embarrassing me!”  This is whisper-yelled into my ear, as though Shade won’t hear it when he is only three feet away. I glare down at her.

“Embarrassing
you?
  You’re in the pool, breaking my rules, with someone much older than you are!”

And someone who is much
younger
than me.  But that little fact didn’t stop me from screwing his brains out, now did it? 

I ignore my inner voice because it is annoyingly correct.

Sophie stares at me silently.  I raise an eyebrow as I feel my pulse beat in my temple. 

“Well??”

“Um.  Should I say something now?” Shade pipes up from behind Sophie. 

He has emerged from the pool and I fight not to look at him.  I’m sure he’s devastatingly sexy in his wet swim-trunks.  I don’t need to see that right now.  I need to stay pissed. And that’s easy to do with Shade’s next shocking words.

“Sophie told me that this was all approved by you.  Her father has already paid in full, so everything is taken care of.”

“Paid in full???   Her father paid you in full??” 

I am screeching now, so loudly that my neighbors probably hear me.  In fact, from the tone of my voice, they’ve probably inferred that I need 9-1-1 called because this is an emergency.  And it is. 

I calm myself just a bit, swallowing hard as I stare into Shade’s deep blue, blue eyes. 

“My ex-husband hired you for my daughter?”

Shade’s cheek twitches a little and it appears that he fights back a grin.  He towels off as he walks closer and I don’t even glance at his practically naked body. 

I really am Superwoman. And I have amazing fucking fortitude.

“Yes, he did,” Shade confirms.  “To be Sophie’s swim coach.  My name is Colby, Ms. Lancaster. I hope being here is alright.”

“Swim coach,” I repeat, feeling numb as realization slowly dawns on me.  I had forgotten all about it. 

“Yes, swim coach,” Sophie snaps, her eyes spitting fire. “What is wrong with you?  What did you think we were doing anyway?”  She is glaring now and in this moment she looks so much like her father.

“I don’t know,” I say quietly.  “It was just a surprise.” I turn to Sophie. “I only just said yes the other day.  How did you get it arranged so fast?  And how did you talk your father into paying for it?”

Sophie looks smug.  “He felt guilty.  So you won’t even have to worry about it. It’s all taken care of.”

I don’t even bother asking how she managed it.  Her father is much more inclined to want to write a check to get his fatherly obligations out of the way, rather than spend time with her.  And I’m sure she knows it. And exploits it.  Because that is what teenagers do.  And in this case, I can’t say I blame her.  If anyone deserves to be exploited, it’s Rick the Dick.

Shade/Colby looks at me and the laughter is gone from his eyes. 

“Is it alright that I’m here?” he asks. 

And I know what he really means. 

Is it alright that my gigolo is here training my fifteen year old daughter in my pool when they are both barely covered in their swimsuits?  Um, I don’t know.  How long do I have to ponder that? If I were a good mother, would it even be a question?  I’d have already kicked him to the curb. Actually, I’d probably not know him in the first place because I wouldn’t have hired him for sexual services.  Right?

Ohmygod.  I’m a horrible mother.  I slept with a gigolo.  And now he’s in my pool.  Child Protective Services are going to come and take me away because I have a gigolo in the pool with my underage daughter.  I’m going to hell in a handbasket.  I’m going to burn forever.  

I’m on the verge of a breakdown. 

And I think that Colby/Shade sees it, because he quickly turns to Sophie.