Harvard Hottie (4 page)

Chapter Four

Sixteen Years Later

“We have a serious situation, Ellie.”

My friend Jenna tends to be a bit of a worrywart so when she comes into my cubicle with a morose expression on her face, I don’t automatically take her seriously. The last time she said “we have a serious situation,” it turned out we were running low on coffee filters. Although in a company full of computer geeks, that actually does qualify as an emergency.

“What’s the problem?” I ask, getting out of “friend” mode and into “concerned supervisor” mode. Technically, I’m Jenna’s supervisor, since my promotion six months ago. But we still basically do the same work as software engineers and I still have my crappy cubicle one row over from hers.

“The company’s being taken over,” Jenna says.

“What?”

At first I think it’s some sort of horrible rumor, but then she lays the company newsletter down in front of me. It’s true, all true. The company has been purchased by a larger company, had been keeping it quiet due to blah blah blah… oh God, this isn’t good. Companies getting bought out don’t mean more jobs. And in this economy, I don’t want to be out of a job. How will I pay for my apartment?

“This is bad, right?” Jenna asks me. Ever since I became her supervisor, she needs my confirmation on everything.

I need to try to be strong though. After all, I’m the supervisor. Despite still working in the same crappy cubicle. “It might not be. Maybe they want to expand?”

Jenna snorts.

As she scurries away to spread the gloom and doom, I take a second to read the newsletter more carefully. It seems that our company was bought out by the multimillion corporation: Boston-based Thayer Industries. The name jogs my mind as being mildly familiar from somewhere but I put the thought out of my head as I continue to read. It says nothing about jobs or cutbacks, but that seems fairly inevitable.

“You read the article, Harvard?”

I look up from the newsletter to the face of Lewis Grunseich, another supervisor in my department. Lewis is the most obese man in the company by about twenty pounds and his suits are always a size too small. Sometimes I can see a bit of belly hair peeking out between the straining buttons and it’s not appealing. Ever since Lewis found out I went to Harvard, he’s taken to calling me that as my nickname. It’s charming. And by that, I mean it’s obnoxious as all hell and I hate it.

“It’s going to be fine,” I say confidently.

Lewis snorts.

“Oh, stop it,” I say. “We make a good profit here. They didn’t buy the company just to fire us all.”

“They’ll break the company apart and sell the pieces for profit,” Lewis says.

“You’re thinking of stolen cars.”

“The same is true of companies!” Lewis insists. “What do you think? This Luke Thayer guy is some kind of saint?”

Luke Thayer? Did he say Luke Thayer?? 

No, it can’t be.

“Hey, Harvard, what’s wrong?” Lewis is saying.

“Nothing,” I say, forcing a smile. I need this conversation to end right now. “I, um, have to make a call.”

Thank God, Lewis takes the hint and ambles back over to his cubicle. I pick up my phone, pretending I’m going to make a call, but as soon as he’s out of sight, I’m on Google. Google: My savior, what did I do without you to spy on people for me?  Okay, Thayer Industries… Thayer Industries…

Yes! Here, Thayer Industries, an old corporation founded by the well-respected Thayer family… current CEO Lucas Thayer… and… photo… come on… yes!

I sit at the edge of my seat waiting for the photo to load, my nose practically touching the screen. The connection isn’t fast enough for me. I watch as an image of the guy who simultaneously made my first semester of college hell and frequented all my post-adolescent fantasies comes onto the screen.

Shit, it’s him.

The image is a little fuzzy, but I’d say he looks pretty much the same. Of course, his blond hair is a little darker and shorter, more professionally clipped rather than the shaggy college student look he used to sport, and he’s wearing a nice suit and tie. His face has filled out a bit, which, I’m sorry to say, makes him look even more handsome than he did before. It’s unfair that men seem to look better when they get a few lines on their faces, while women just look old. Anyway, he looks great. I don’t even see any sign that his hairline is receding. Just like I knew would happen: he’s never suffered a moment of hardship. He went from being the rich heir to the rich businessman without batting an eye.

It would be a lie to say that Luke spent even a minute mourning my rejection of him at that party. The next time I saw him, he was walking across the Yard, holding hands with yet another tall skinny blonde. I averted my eyes and didn’t say hello. Actually, I don’t think Luke and I exchanged two words for the rest of college. I always wondered how drunk he had been at that party and if he even remembered our one kiss. Maybe he remembered it the next morning and was totally disgusted.

And now he’s my boss.

Shit.

***

Not a lot of work gets done today as everyone is pretty much freaking out over the whole Thayer-takeover business. Near the end of the day, I get an email saying that all supervisors will be asked to meet with Mr. Thayer in the morning to discuss strategies for running the company.

“You’ll tell him about the software package I’m developing, right?” Jenna asks me anxiously. She’s like this about men too. Always freaking out until she gets them freaked out too, and they run away.  

“Don’t worry, Jenna,” I say, for what feels like the ten-billionth time today. It seems like it’s always up to me in life to be the one who isn’t freaking out.

“What do you think he’s like?” she asks.

“Who?” I say.

“Luke Thayer,” Jenna says. “What do you think he’s like?  I read that he’s only thirty-four. That’s pretty young to be a CEO.”

“Well, it was a family business,” I point out. “I think I read his father had a heart attack.”

Jenna nods. “I read that he’s doubled the company’s profits while he’s been in charge. You don’t do that by being nice.”

“Jenna, I’m sure he’s…” My tongue sticks on the word “nice.” Luke isn’t nice. He was never nice. He’s probably more of an asshole now than he ever was.

At 5 o’clock, I give up on trying to get any work done and I head home. Even though I work in the financial district of Boston, I can’t afford a decent apartment in the Boston area. I already work in a cubicle, so I refuse to live in one as well. I picked a nice one-bedroom apartment in Brookline, an urban suburb of Boston that’s just a twenty-five-minute Green Line trip away from work. I own a car that I only use a few times a month, on the rare occasions I want to go somewhere outside the city. It’s nice not having to deal with traffic, but on days like today, in the dead of the summer, when the T is packed to the brim and I have to stand for the entire ride next to a perspiring overweight businessman who hasn’t heard of deodorant, I kind of miss driving a car to work.

I try to be extra quiet as I head down the hallway to get to my apartment. My eightysomething neighbor Sadie Katz has taken an extra-special interest in my social life since I moved here. No matter how quiet I am, even if I duck my head down as I walk past her peephole, she always notices when I come home. There must be some invisible tripwire near her door.

Sure enough, the second I pass Sadie’s door, I hear her three locks popping open. I consider making a break for it, but that would be rude. Besides, she’s sweet, if a little annoying.

“Ellie!” she cries out when she sees me, her tiny wrinkled face breaking out in a smile. Her hair is a big white puff surrounding her head.

“Hi, Sadie,” I say, fumbling in my pocket for my keys.

“Any exciting plans for tonight?” Sadie asks.

“Just dinner,” I say, shrugging.

“Dinner with a suitor?” she asks excitedly, clasping her hands together.

Sadie always calls men “suitors” even though I’m pretty sure nobody has referred to dates that way in the last fifty years. She thinks I should have a minimum of six suitors, so I could have a date every night of the week (and one night to wash my hair).

“No, just dinner by myself,” I tell Sadie.

Her face falls. While it’s sweet that Sadie wants me to have a boyfriend (or suitor, whatever), it’s also very irritating. I’m the youngest of three girls, and my parents already have seven grandchildren, so they are relatively unconcerned with my decision to remain single for the duration. It’s a great situation, which I totally blew by moving next door to Sadie.

“I just can’t understand it, Ellie,” Sadie says. “You have such a pretty face. The boys should be banging down your door!” She examines me critically. “It must be your hips.”

“My hips?”

Sadie nods. “They’re too skinny. You don’t have birthing hips. It probably makes men think you won’t be able to have many children.”

I am almost positive that is not the reason I don’t get many dates. But she’s right that I could afford to put on a few pounds—I always thought that in my twenties, I’d get a more curvaceous body, but somehow I’m still all bony. I always wear belts because my butt and my hips aren’t substantial enough to hold up my pants.

“You need to eat more,” Sadie decides. She holds up a finger. “One minute!”

She dashes back into her apartment, and I’m sorely attempted to disappear inside mine, even though I realize that would be really rude. When she returns a minute later, she’s holding a huge Tupperware bowl filled with…

“Pot roast!” Sadie declares, thrusting it into my arms. “You eat this, Ellie dear. And you’ll have all the beaus you can handle.”

I stumble into my apartment with my tub of pot roast. I’m not going to be eating this. It looks like it’ll sit like a rock in my stomach, and anyway, I grabbed a burrito that I ate during the T ride home.

Before I go to veg out in front of the television, I find myself moving in the direction of the bathroom in search of a mirror. I feel this almost desperate need to compare myself to my college self, the girl that Luke had known all those years ago. I need to see how I measure up.

I may have been young and nubile in college, but I was so awkward back then that I probably look better now. Objectively, at least. I get my hair professionally straightened and highlighted, wear contacts instead of glasses, and I no longer buy the majority of my clothes at
Walmart (I’ve upgraded to Target). I’m slender, if a little bit bony, and I don’t have any unsightly wrinkles. I’m somewhat attractive now.

But inside, I’m still the same girl I was when I was eighteen. I’m still a huge nerd. I still get nervous when I have to meet new people. I still prefer staying home to going out and socializing.

Sadie isn’t the only one around who wonders why I’m still single. I wonder, too. I’ve had a few boyfriends over the years, but I’ve probably been alone for a greater percentage of the time than I’ve been in any kind of relationship. I don’t date much either. The biggest reason for that is, in my experience, men don’t want to date smart women.

It’s a sad truth. Even men who claim they want to date a smart women don’t really want that. I’d do much better getting dates if I were a stewardess instead of a computer programmer. And even though I lost the glasses, I know I still give off that nerdy girl vibe. I just can’t turn it off, much as I’ve tried.

The other problem, of course, is that I get bored easily in relationships. Much as I hated Luke for arguing with me every day in expos class, I’ve never been as thoroughly intellectually stimulated in a relationship as I was in that class. It was both aggravating and thrilling. And once I get intellectually bored with a guy, everything gets boring. Even the sex.

Flannery O’Connor was right—a good man really is hard to find.

Of course, it would be great if I could show off some big diamond ring to Luke, but at least I can look reasonably good. I have one really stunning suit in my closet that I got from Chanel. It fits like a glove and brings out the curves that I don’t really have. I bought it at the mall six months ago and wanted to wear it for the perfect occasion, but nothing was ever good enough. But I think seeing your hotshot new boss that you rejected back in college should count.

I’m determined that when Luke sees me tomorrow, I may be a loser, but at least I won’t be a frumpy old hag. Especially since it’s obvious he’s just as gorgeous as he was sixteen years ago.

Chapter Five

My meeting with Luke is scheduled for ten o’clock the next morning. I can’t get any work done before the meeting, partially because I’m too nervous and partially because Jenna keeps coming over every five minutes to ask if I had the meeting yet. I also go pee about ten times because that’s what I do when I’m nervous and each time I check my make-up. I don’t usually wear make-up, so I’m worried I put on too much. No matter what, I can never seem to get the hang of putting on make-up. I always end up stabbing myself in the eye with the mascara pen.

“Are you wearing make-up, Ellie?” Jenna asks me during one of her trips to my cubicle.

I touch my face self-consciously. “Why? Does it look bad?”

“No, you look great,” she says. Then she adds thoughtfully, “You know, Luke Thayer is single. It might help us all out if you, you know…”

“Uh…” is all I can come up with.

Obviously, I’m not interested in Luke. I wasn’t interested in him when I was young and stupid, so I’m certainly not interested now that I’m old and jade…
er, wise. I have no interest in being another one of the conquests of some handsome playboy. And considering we’re in the midst of a company buyout, I really need to completely focus on my career right now.

At 9:55, I head upstairs. Luke is apparently temporarily using one of the offices on the floor above us. Presumably, he won’t need an office anymore after he finishes stripping and dismantling our company, then selling the pieces for profit.

My stomach is all butterflies as I exit the elevator and traverse the hallway to Luke’s office. I see him from afar, although I’m not entirely sure it’s him until I’m a few yards away. Yesterday I looked at myself in the mirror and thought about how different I looked from my former self. But it turns out Luke Thayer’s got me beat by a million miles.

Luke’s in a wheelchair.

No, he’s not just in a wheelchair. He’s crippled. He’s very obviously crippled. I know that isn’t the PC word, but it’s the one that immediately comes to mind as I watch Luke talking to some other guy in the hallway, presumably some lackey. Gone is that fantastic body that I saw on the night of Primal Scream—instead of the washboard stomach, he’s got a gut, and he’s hunched up a bit in his wheelchair. He’s not in the chair because of a broken leg, that’s for sure. There’s something seriously wrong with him.

For a second, I consider making a run for it. I sense an extremely uncomfortable situation coming on. But at that moment, Luke lays his eyes on me and I see no glimmer of recognition.

“Eleanor Jenson?” he asks. His voice has changed too. It’s harder, colder. The voice of a ruthless businessman. Someone who’s going to fire us all.

I nod. My own voice has vanished.

“I’m Lucas Thayer,” he says, as if there was any chance I didn’t know who he was. “Please come into my office, Ms. Jenson.”

I watch as he pushes his palms against the wheels of his chair and enters his office. When he turns his chair and slides seamlessly behind the desk, it occurs to me that he’s been in this wheelchair for a while. He’s comfortable in it. This is who he is now.

“Have a seat, Ms. Jenson,” he says, since I’m still standing in the doorway, gawking at him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I say in a soft voice as I practically faint into the leather chair in front of his desk.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” he says. He folds his hands together and that’s when I notice they don’t look quite right either. There are deep grooves between the tendons on the back of his hands that definitely did not exist in college. “You can call me Mr. Thayer.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thayer,” I mumble. God, he’s still such an asshole. This is going to be miserable.

“I know there’s been a lot of slacking off around here,” Luke continues in that hard voice. “But that’s going to end. Right now. Anyone who doesn’t take their job seriously is going to be looking for work elsewhere. Do you understand, Ms. Jenson?”

“Yes, Mr. Thayer,” I say. I feel sick. Luke used to be a jerk, but he was never this horrible. I get what’s going on here. He’s bitter because he’s in a wheelchair. He wants to ruin everyone else’s lives the way his is ruined. He’s angry because he can’t walk and it seems like he can’t move his hands very well either. He’s just a bitter cripple who probably has to pay women to have sex with him or something.

“Good,” he says. “Because I’m going to need your help cutting the fat. Tell me, are there any female employees that you think are going to be getting pregnant in the near future?  We don’t want any maternity leaves right now.”

I know Gloria, two cubicles down from me, has been trying to get pregnant, but I can’t tell him that. I don’t want her to get fired.

“No, I don’t,” I say quickly.

Luke narrows his eyes at me. “Are you lying to me, Ms. Jenson?”

I swallow. “No, of course not, Mr. Thayer.”

“Next,” he says, “I want you to do a thorough search through the company employees’ medical records.”

“Medical records?” I stare at him. This has gone from evil to illegal.

“That’s right,” he confirms. “I want to weed out any abnormalities, any critical medical conditions.”

I nod, thinking of poor Bob in sales, who had a heart attack last year.

  “But mostly, anything weird,” he says. “I don’t want any freaks working under me. I want them fired. Especially anyone born with extra toes, extra fingers…”

At that moment, I look at Luke’s face and I see a grin slipping through.

Shit, he recognized me.

“Ho ho, very funny,” I say.

“Oh, come on, Ellie,” Luke says, grinning full on now. “That was freaking
hilarious
. The look on your face… I wish I had a camera.”

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” I admit.

“Of course I recognized you,” he says. “How could I forget my first college crush?  Who horribly and painfully rejected me, I should add. And now I’m her boss.” He grins wider at the expression on my face. “Lucky for you, I don’t hold a grudge.”

My shoulders relax as I study Luke’s face for a second. As messed up as he is below the neck, he’s still very attractive from the neck up. Now that I’m looking closer, I notice a small pale scar under his right eye and one down along his jawline. The scars mar the perfection of his features, but also give him this really sexy rugged look. I’m not sure why I’m thinking about this, though.

“So aren’t you going to ask?” he says.

“Huh?” I reply innocently.

“‘Oh my god, Luke, what happened to you?!’ Or something along those lines.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

“What do you mean?” I say delicately.

“Oh geez, Ellie, I guess you didn’t notice… I’m in a wheelchair.” He gives me a mock sober expression. “A lot of people think I just shrunk or something.”

“Okay, okay, I noticed,” I admit. “But you don’t have to tell me anything.”

He shrugs. “It’ll save you the trouble of asking Google. Anyway, I broke my neck. Rock climbing. Damn twenty-three-year-olds, think they’re indestructible.”

If he was twenty-three when this happened, that means he’s been disabled for over a decade. I guess that explains why he’s so comfortable wheeling himself around.

“Anyway,” he says, his voice growing more formal, “this isn’t entirely a social call, although I admit it’s been fun. The truth is that there are going to be cutbacks here. Big ones. But I’d like to make the right decisions, and that’s why I need your help.”

I nod, feeling slightly ill. If he makes me fire somebody, I may have to quit.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask you to fire anyone,” Luke says, demonstrating he still has the ability to read my mind. “But I need your opinions. You’re smart, Ellie. In fact, I heard you went to Harvard.”

I make a face at him. “You got a higher grade in expos than I did.” He got an A to my A-minus. He made a point of telling me.

Luke grins. “I said you were smart. I didn’t say you were smarter than me.”

I finally leave Luke’s office with an agreement to meet tomorrow for a working lunch to talk more about the cutbacks. Every time I close my eyes, I can see the image of Luke sitting in that wheelchair. I’m not quite sure how to feel about it all, but I’m beginning to get the sense that I was really wrong about Luke Thayer all those years ago.