Her Favorite Rival (6 page)

Right?

Megan sat diagonally opposite, her eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. Audrey pressed her lips together, sure her friend was remembering last night.

At least someone was getting something positive out of the situation. That was nice.

Gary talked about the sales results for the first week of the current catalog, and she made notes to compare some of the figures with her own data. She steadfastly refused to glance sideways at Zach, but she could feel heat stealing into her face anyway, a slow, steadily growing burn.

She concentrated fiercely on her notes, taking down almost every word Gary said, and slowly her embarrassment subsided—that is, until Zach shifted beside her, bumping her shoulder, and the whole rising-tide-of-heat thing started all over again.

By the time the meeting ended she had damp armpits and was desperate for five minutes alone to regain her equilibrium. The moment Gary signaled they could go she was on her feet, gathering her things as though school had been let out for summer.

“Audrey, could I have a word?” Gary called as she all but sprinted for the door.

She pulled up short. “Sure. Of course.”

She joined him at the head of the table, mentally reviewing her to-do list. Maybe he wanted to talk about the new proposal they’d had from one of their lighting suppliers. Or the additions she wanted to make to the rechargeable battery range.

But Gary’s gaze was focused over her shoulder. “You, too, Zach.”

Of course
he wanted to talk to Zach at the same time. Today was clearly her day. Not. She hugged her papers to her chest as Zach joined them.

“I’ve got a meeting in ten so I’ll cut to the chase,” Gary said. “Whitman has asked us to put together a competitor analysis. Strengths, weaknesses, growth areas. You know the drill. I thought maybe you two would like to handle it.”

Okay, now she knew fate really was dicking with her. The last-remaining-seat situation was one thing, but offering her a chance to score some major corporate brownie points while linking that same opportunity to her having to work hand-in-glove with Zach? That was simply cruel.

“Sounds good,” Zach said easily. “But I’m happy to handle it on my own if Audrey’s snowed.”

She blinked, drawn out of her own thoughts by his casually worded attempted coup. She
bet
he’d be happy to handle the analysis on his own. He’d probably love to give Whitman a little shoulder rub and polish his car, too.

“Oh no, I’m up for it,” she said brightly.

Only belatedly did she consider how her words might be construed, given what Zach had overheard her say last night. “I mean, I’m not snowed.” That didn’t sound good, either. Not when she was talking to her immediate boss. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m busy, but I’d like the opportunity.”

“Good. You’ve got two weeks. Whitman wants a presentation after the conference.” Gary gave her a curious look before heading for the door.

She cleared her throat and faced her temporary partner in crime. Determined to be professional about this, no matter what.

“So...how do you want to do this?”

“I guess we should divide up the workload. Write our sections separately, then pool data and conclusions,” Zach said.

She forced herself to look at him directly for the first time all day. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, the color lending extra depth to his eyes. For once he wasn’t laughing at her. A small win.

“Sounds good. Do you want to reconvene after five, draw up a schedule...?”

“Can we make it six? I’ve got a conference call with some of the guys from Perth.”

“Sure, suits me.”

He gestured for her to precede him from the room and they parted in the hallway.

In her office, she gave herself a little pep talk. This report was an opportunity, and she was going to hit it out of the park. End of story.

She applied herself to her task list with a Terminator-like zeal, aware that she would have to carve out the time to research and write her share of the analysis over the coming week. Since no one had miraculously added a couple of extra hours to every day, she was going to have to work harder and smarter to fit everything in.

Accordingly, she was armed with some initial thoughts when she made her way to the meeting room at six. Zach hadn’t arrived yet, so she set herself up at one end of the long table, spreading printouts and past reports in front of her.

Makers had three major rivals—two corporate “big box” type retailers and a group of smaller independents that had banded together. While Makers kept a keen eye on all players, the company hadn’t commissioned a comprehensive competitor analysis for more than four years. A major oversight, in Audrey’s opinion, and she wasn’t surprised Whitman had made it one of his first priorities.

She worked her way through the last report, highlighting figures that would need updating in fluorescent pink.

“Sorry. We had a bad connection and the call went over.” Zach dropped into the chair next to her, sighing heavily. He considered all the printouts she’d laid out. “You’ve been busy.”

“I pulled some old reports. Most of them are irrelevant now, the market has moved on so much. But there’s good background information in some of them we might be able to use.”

“Good plan.”

He leaned across to grab one of the reports and a spicy, mellow scent drifted her way. She recognized it as the aftershave he had stashed in his desk and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t want to notice his aftershave. Even if it was really delicious.

“We need to pull in a lot of data,” she said. “I’ll put out a shout to the state marketing coordinators tomorrow to get them started on some figures.”

She was aware of Zach looking at her, but rather than make eye contact she turned another page and lifted her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“If we’re going to divide this up, how do you want to do it?” she asked.

When he didn’t answer immediately, she lifted her gaze. He was watching her, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Clearly amused by something. As always.

“I could take on Mathesons, and you could do Handy Hardware. Which leaves us with Home Savings—we can split that last one,” she suggested.

“Sounds good. Gary mentioned a consulting firm we can call on for industry data?”

They talked over the details of the project for half an hour, making notes and plans. Every now and then she glanced up and caught him smiling that small, amused smile, but he didn’t offer to share the joke and she wasn’t about to ask. The cup of tea she’d had before joining him was starting to make its presence felt.

“Won’t be a moment,” she said as she stood.

He was busy making a notation in the margin of one of the older reports as she left the room. She rolled her shoulders as she made her way to the ladies’. She really needed to learn to loosen up around him; her shoulders felt like they were set in concrete.

She saw the mark on her face the moment she entered the bathroom—a big fluorescent pink streak from the middle of her cheek up into her hairline.

“What the—?”

Then she remembered pushing back her hair with the highlighter in her hand. D’oh.

No wonder he’d been smirking at her.

“Thanks for the heads-up, buddy,” she muttered to herself as she scrubbed her face clean. She took care of business, then returned to the meeting room, aware that she was, yet again, at a disadvantage where he was concerned. Just once it would be nice if he was the one who looked like a dick.

She waited for him to say something about her face—finally—when she entered the room, but he simply gave another one of those small almost-smiles and pushed a printout her way.

“There’s some good stuff in here about projected revenues. We can springboard off historical predictions and talk about how the entry of the second big-box retailer into the market has changed the environment.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”

She tried to concentrate on what she was doing, but she couldn’t let go of the fact that he’d sat next to her for more than half an hour, laughing privately at her striped face, amusing himself at her expense.

The more she thought about it, the more steamed she got, and finally she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You could have said something.”

“Sorry?” He looked up from the page he was reading, his expression distracted.

“The highlighter on my face. You could have said something.”

His gaze went to her cheek. “Could I?”

“Yes, you could have.”

“But then we would have gotten into the whole ‘where is it?’ and ‘have I got it all?’ thing. Next thing you know, I’d be spitting on my hanky and wiping your face.” He smiled, inviting her to share the joke.

At last.

“You enjoy laughing at me, don’t you?” The words popped out of their own accord.

He frowned. “Do I?”

“You know you do.”

“Actually, I don’t. Why would I want to laugh at you?”

Because he thought he was better than her. Because it was the way of handsome, entitled, arrogant men to be amused by lesser beings.

But she wasn’t about to say either of those things out loud. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“We don’t have time for this.” She made a big deal out of sorting through the papers in front of her.

“You brought it up, not me.”

“Forget I said anything.”

“You can’t throw an accusation like that out there and then shut down the conversation. Why on earth would you think I was laughing at you?” He looked and sounded genuinely perplexed.

“Because you always smile when you see me, for starters.”

His eyebrows shot up, as though she’d astonished him. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe—crazy idea—I might actually enjoy your company?”

It was her turn to be astonished. “No.”

“Wow. Okay.” He shook his head as though she’d confused the hell out of him.

“You want the next category manager’s role. Don’t pretend you don’t. And you know I’m your toughest competition.”

“So, what, we can’t be friends?”

She didn’t even need to think about it. “No. My career is too important for me to screw it up by allowing other considerations to enter into the equation.”

“That’s uncanny. You sounded exactly like Gordon Gekko in
Wall Street
when you said that.”

“I’m not ashamed of being ambitious. I’m the only person in the world I can rely on, and if I don’t make things happen, they don’t happen. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

Suddenly he looked very serious. “You think I don’t understand that?”

She caught herself before she scoffed out loud. He had to be kidding. He was a walking advertisement for indulgence, from the luxury watch to his silk-and-wool suit to his Italian leather shoes. His pen alone represented a mortgage payment on her tiny place. As the daughter of two hardworking GPs, she’d grown up in a house where money had never really been an issue, but Zach reeked of a whole different level of privilege. The kind where houses were “estates” and children had numerals after their names to differentiate them from their noble forebears.

“There’s a difference between wanting something and needing it. For example, I’m sure you
want
your polo pony, but I
need
to pay my electricity bill.”

He blinked. Then he sat back in his chair. He looked...
stunned
was the only word she could come up with. As though she’d sneaked up and goosed him.

“You think I have a polo pony?”

She had no idea how the other half lived—or, more accurately, the one percent—but her point still stood. No way would he ever be as hungry as she was.

“If you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?” she said.

When he continued to look baffled, she pointed to his shoes. “Hugo Boss.” She glanced at his wrist, where the gleam of his slim, elegant rose-gold watch peeked out beneath the cuff of his jacket. “Patek Philippe.” She indicated his suit. “Armani.”

“Okay. I like nice things. Your point is?”

“That you and I come from very different places in the world.”

He stared at her. Up close, his eyes appeared almost gray instead of dark blue. The gunmetal color of the ocean before a storm.

“Look. Maybe we should just concentrate on getting this project sorted and we can both get on with our lives,” she said.

He still didn’t say anything and she shook her head slightly. She didn’t get why he was looking so gobsmacked. Did he really think people hadn’t noticed he was different?

“I’ll take this stuff home and draw up an outline for my sections. If you do the same, we can meet again tomorrow after work and finalize our brief before diving in. How does that sound?”

His frown was gone now, his expression impenetrable. “Whatever suits.”

“Good. Same time tomorrow?”

“That works for me.”

He stood and scooped up his things.

“Hang on, I think you’ve got my phone...” she said, frowning.

He flipped up the protective cover and checked. “You’re right, sorry,” he said, his tone clipped as they swapped handsets.

She was about to tell him that it was an easy enough mistake since they all had the same company-issued handsets and covers, but before she could say another word he was gone. She stared at the empty doorway. She felt uncomfortable about what had just happened. She should have bitten her tongue and swallowed her impulsive words, for the sake of the project if nothing else. If she hadn’t been feeling so dumb after the highlighter incident, maybe she would have, but she’d hated the thought of him being amused at her expense. Sitting there laughing at her up his sleeve while she’d been doing her best to make this project fly.

She made a growling noise in her throat.

Why did she always wind up second-guessing herself where Zach was concerned? No one else in her world made her feel so self-conscious and uneasy.

She didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t like it. The sooner this project was over, the better.

CHAPTER FOUR

A
PPARENTLY
,
HE
WAS
an elitist snob, born with a silver spoon in his mouth.