Working It (5 page)

“I can't possibly work like this,” she said.

“That's all I've got.” He motioned to her car. “Not that it hasn't been a fun evening and all, but don't you have a two-hour drive ahead of you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “When are you leaving?”

“Monday,” he said. “First stop is Montecito…a few hours from here, near the Nevada border.”

“Maybe you could…I don't know…
call,
” she said, racking her brain. Two days. There was just no way this would work.

He smiled. Indulgently, she thought. “Sure. I'll try.”

“This isn't going to work,” she muttered as she opened her door and climbed in.

“Don't worry,” he said, shutting the door behind her and waiting for her to roll down the window. “Nobody screws up on your watch, right?”

The curses she threw at him were drowned out by the roar of her engine. He grinned and leaned down.

“I'll call,” he said, just inches away from her face. Then, with a lightning-fast grin, he pulled away.

She watched him as he walked to his own car, getting in, driving away. Fortunately he didn't notice that she leaned back against the leather upholstery of her seat, almost melting into it. She was short of breath. The guy was a walking, breathing, sexual punch in the gut. And she'd felt the hit, all right.

It was a first in her experience. And it was utterly humiliating.

She finally pulled out, heading toward the highway. Now that he wasn't in her physical proximity, she could focus on what was even more disturbing than his powerful sensual appeal. For example, the fact that she now had only two days to do what a miracle worker couldn't pull off in a week. And what sort of screaming idiot goes on a three-week road trip just before a big investor meeting, anyway? She should just walk. Tell Betsy that she'd made a huge error in judgment, plead for her to forget about their little agreement, and go back to waiting for her performance review. Better still, pretending that she'd never even
heard
of Robson Steel, the town of San Angelo, or Mr. Sexy Pants Drew Robson himself.

She took a deep, cleansing breath.

Nobody screws up on your watch, right?

She wasn't walking away. And apparently, Drew Robson wasn't the only screaming idiot in town.

After several choice curses and a few daydreams of
strangling Drew—among other things; she was only human, after all—she finally settled down and shifted into problem-solving mode.

It wasn't impossible. Few things were. What did she really need, anyway? She needed more time to teach a man who was infuriating, smug, and utterly appealing how to sell.

While I'm at it, might as well tackle that whole World Peace thing,
she thought, shifting gears. At least she had two hours on the road. She tended to think better when she was on the road, anyway.

She blinked.

On the road.

She grinned, the car's roaring engine seeming to cheer her thoughts. Three-week road trip. Now
there
was a solution.

 

“I'
M GLAD
you're going through with this, Drew. It'll mean a lot. And I'm sure you'll get more comfortable once you get out on the road.”

Drew tossed his luggage into the trunk of his Chevy Impala with a little more force than necessary. Ken had been talking to him since Drew had walked through the door this morning. Drew was pretty sure he'd get more comfortable as soon as he was behind the wheel of the car and away from Ken's compulsive encouragement.

“You went over the list of clients, right?”

“Yes, Ken,” he dutifully replied as he put his garment bag next to his big Samsonite. He was going to be on the road for three weeks. He felt as if he'd packed for a war.

“Did you bring samples?”

“Brought the product brochures,” Drew replied,
looking at Ken skeptically. “I'm not bringing a two-ton oil cap with me. I don't think my car's rated for that kind of weight.”

“Oh. Of course.” Ken smiled sheepishly. “I'm sorry. I'm nervous. This is so important for Robson Steel.”

“Believe me, I know that,” Drew said. Ken was standing next to the car, flanked by Mrs. Packard, who was too cool a customer to wring her hands. Still, her staccato-sharp voice was shooting questions at him each time Ken stopped to take a breath.

“You've got all of your maps?” It would've sounded more maternal if she'd sounded less angry. “All the addresses?”

“Right in the passenger seat, Mrs. Packard.” She'd neatly printed all of the driving instructions. He was surprised she hadn't installed GPS in his car one afternoon while he wasn't looking.

“I've included a lot of information on the customers, the most I could get my hands on,” Ken said apologetically, looking at Mrs. Packard a little warily. “You should have at least the night before to go over the papers. And you're bringing your laptop, right?”

“Yeah, I've got the laptop.” He put the laptop case next to the garment bag. Thank God he had a huge trunk. At this rate, he'd probably be putting Ken in the trunk and strapping Mrs. Packard to the roof. “I've got the background, I've got the maps, I've got the product descriptions. My cell phone battery is charged, I've got my spare and the charger with me. I've got about forty pairs of clean boxers with my name written on them. Anything else?”

Ken grinned. “You only brought forty pairs?”

“You'll want bottled water for the trip,” Mrs. Pack
ard said. “It's a long drive. It's easy to get dehydrated.”

Drew rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Kids going away to college didn't get grilled like this.

Mrs. Packard looked up at the sky. “Weather's not looking good,” she said. “You'll be careful driving.”

It wasn't a question. He nodded anyway, fighting the instinct to say, “Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, I guess you're as prepped as you're going to get,” Ken said, shaking Drew's hand. “You've been working like a demon all weekend. I think you're going to rack up some serious sales.”

“From your mouth to God's ear,” Drew said, only half kidding. He'd boned up on all the details, yes. But he'd also worked to keep his mind off of Jade. The way she'd talked to him, both confident and still sweet. How she'd said that he wouldn't screw up. That was something that haunted his dreams…her putting her hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes.

Of course, in his dreams she'd done more than just comfort him.

He closed his eyes. He had three weeks on the road to get her out of his system. Then he'd be so cross-eyed from his trip, he'd have two days to focus on getting investors to save his company. He'd be too wrung out to worry about a sexy temptress distracting him from what was important.

He was just about to slam the trunk shut when the sound of a car speeding into the parking lot distracted the three of them.

“What is
that?
” Ken said, startled, as a cherry-red, old-model Mustang all but screeched to a halt by Drew's car.

Drew knew the car. And he knew the driver.

Jade got out of the car in a swirl of dust. She was wearing comfortable-looking khakis, a black tank top and sneakers. “Great! I'm not too late.”

It was the first time since Drew had met Mrs. Packard that he'd ever seen the older woman floored. Ken wasn't even dignified about it—his mouth was literally open.

“Too late for what?” Drew felt compelled to ask.

Her smile was bright—and he knew that glint in her eye by this point. That was determination. “For the road trip, of course,” she said, opening her trunk. He watched her pull out two suitcases and a laptop case.

“Oh, no,” he said. Foolish, but he stood in front of his trunk with his arms out, ignoring her frown. “You're not coming with me.”

She looked over at Ken and Mrs. Packard, her face set. “Would you please excuse us?”

Ken goggled, then tugged at Mrs. Packard, who glared at Jade and distinctly murmured, “Well, I never.”

Jade shrugged. “And you never will if you keep wearing that support hose,” she murmured back.

If looks could kill, Drew thought, then Mrs. Packard was doing the visual equivalent of pistol-whipping his new sales coach.

Jade turned back to Drew. “You've got investors to persuade, remember?”

“And a sales trip,” he added. “There's no point in renovating the plant if I've got no orders to fill.”

“So we multitask,” she said, putting her suitcases down by his feet. “I go with you. I see how you do on sales presentations. I coach you from there. I coach you on the road, during dinners. If you need it, I make hypnotic suggestion tapes for when you sleep.”

“What, you're not going to just chant over me?” She couldn't be serious. She couldn't possibly be serious.

She winked at him. “Only if it's necessary.”

His mind reeled. “I can't…I mean…”

“You'll probably hate me. But I'm not going to let you screw up on my watch.” She nudged him out of the way. Surprised, he let her, watching as she put her suitcases companionably next to his, shutting his trunk herself. “Now. You driving first, or am I?”

“You're not driving,” he said, still feeling numb. This wasn't happening. This couldn't possibly be happening.

She grinned. “All right.”

And before he could stop her, she'd shut her own trunk, set her alarm, and climbed into his passenger seat.

He stared at her, then over at Ken and Mrs. Packard. Mrs. Packard had turned a brilliant shade of red. Ken looked torn between amusement and abject horror.

“She's not going with me,” he said to them, then walked over to her, opening the car door. “You're not going with me.”

She looked at him over the dark green tint of her sunglasses, that grin of hers sexy and impudent. “Sure I am.”

“No, you're not.” He gauged just how quickly she'd be able to get a hold of things if he decided to yank her from the car. “What do you think you're doing? I've got a sales trip, for Christ's sake. I don't have the time or the energy for this!”

Now she looked serious. “What you don't have the time for is prepping for that investors' meeting,” she said. “This will create time. Trust me.”

Trust her?

Her green eyes were beseeching—and strangely compelling.

“One week,” she said in a low voice. “If you still think I'm not doing anything productive, I'll find my own way back to Los Angeles. But I need a chance, damn it. And at this point, you don't have a lot of options.”

He stared at her for a long minute. Her face, the one that so many people would just write off as pretty, sexy, stunning, held more than just good bone structure and porcelain skin. He could see past it to the steel underneath. She was a sledgehammer wrapped in a mink stole. She was strong, and smart, and he wasn't getting her out of his car with a crowbar.

For whatever reason, he found that more than anything persuaded him.

“One week,” he repeated, then shut the door. “Ken, Mrs. P., I'll call you from the road.”

He left them staring in disbelief at the car as he got in the driver's seat, shut the door and started the engine with a low rev.

“One rule,” he said as Jade buckled up. “No radio commando. I get to choose all the music.”

“No problem,” she said with a laugh in her voice. “You're the client.”

J
ADE AND
D
REW SAT
at a roadside diner, somewhere in the middle of nowhere on the way to Montecito. That was just what the sign over the dingy eatery said, too: Roadside Diner. After surveying her choices, she settled on a burger and fries with a chocolate milkshake. Drew had the same, except for the milkshake. She got the feeling it was a little too frivolous for the man, who was frowning enough to crease his skin.

“You keep making that face, it's going to freeze that way,” she said sweetly, pushing her straw around in the thick ice cream.

“I never should've agreed to this,” he muttered, not looking at her. “We just drove three hours and you didn't stop talking
once.
”

She tilted her head to the side. “I'd talk less if you participated more,” she pointed out.

“I was thinking. I need to think about stuff,” he said, glowering darkly. “Unlike some people, who just blurt out anything that enters their head.”

She batted her eyes, taking a sip of the milkshake. She was getting under his skin. That was a good start.

The waitress, a black-haired woman in her twenties, came over and plunked the plates down in front of them, then turned to walk away.

“Excuse me,” Jade said, trying to stop her, “could we get some ketchup?”

The woman glanced at Jade, shrugged, and shuffled back to the kitchen.

Jade let out a low sigh. Apparently it was an off day—she was having trouble getting through to anyone. Of course, being stuck in a car and trying to pry open a clam like Drew Robson was bound to frazzle anybody. She turned back to her main concern. Drew was tucking into the burger with single-minded fervor. She took a bite. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good enough to explain his focus on it. She knew he was eating in the hopes that she wouldn't get him to talk.

Well, she thought. He's wrong there.

“So. You're trying to rescue the factory from your father's mistakes,” she said casually. “You're overly honest, where he was pond scum. Stop me when I'm wrong.”

He stopped, his jaw clenched on a bite of food. Then he swallowed slowly and shrugged. “I wouldn't say I'm overly honest.”

He wasn't contesting the pond scum comment, which was meant to get a rise out of him. That wasn't good.

“I see. Don't tell me…he was a really good salesman, huh?”

His eyes narrowed. He'd stopped eating, she noticed, and was toying with a French fry. “That's what they tell me. I've never worked with him.”

Something else she'd have to investigate. “Charming?”

Drew shrugged. She took that as a yes.

“Good-looking, too, huh?”

Now his eyes met hers. “What makes you say that?”

“You had to get
something
from him.”

He looked puzzled for a minute. Then slowly, finally, he smiled in return. She felt the effect of it right down to her curling toes. “Is that a compliment?”

“It's an observation,” she replied, feeling her heartbeat skip a little unevenly. “The point is, you're practically phobic about this whole sales process. I'm just trying to figure out why.”

The smile vanished as quickly as it came, and she momentarily felt bereft at its absence. “So you're something of a shrink, now, too.”

Now it was her turn to shrug. “The key to being a good salesperson, or a good public relations person, is being able to understand people.” She paused a beat. “Not to be offensive, but right now you're not that hard to read.”

He was riled enough to answer, which was the point. “It's not that I don't like selling things. I like sales. That's what keeps the company going,” Drew said. “It's just…techniques, pitches, crap like that. I believe in the plant, and that's what I talk about. If they need us, they'll buy something. That simple. I don't convince people to do something they don't want.” His pointed stare implied that she did.

She sighed. His sounding so earnest was part of the problem. “I'm not saying you should…excuse me,” she said, then paused, stopping the young waitress as she shuffled past the table. “Ketchup?”

The woman shrugged yet again, then headed back toward the kitchen.

If she forgets this time, I'm going to…

To her surprise, Drew stopped the woman, as well, waiting for her to look up from her order pad and directly into his eyes. “I'm sorry. Could you get mustard as well as ketchup? I'd really appreciate it.”

His voice was like warm honey. The waitress's eyes widened. So did Jade's. The request was in a low, undemanding tone, but his smile was wide and friendly, and his look was engaging.

“R-right away.” Now she wasn't shuffling anymore. The waitress practically sprinted to the kitchen.

Drew turned back to Jade. “Sorry. What?”

Jade blinked at him. “Do that again.”

“Do what again?”

“What you just did with the waitress.”

“You want me to ask
you
for mustard and ketchup?” His voice was amused. “Okay. Got any mustard and ketchup on you?”

The waitress showed up before Jade could answer, putting the condiments down with a loud thunk. “Here you are,” she said, never even looking at Jade.

Drew rewarded her with a smile, similar to the one he'd sent Jade earlier. The waitress was obviously similarly affected, Jade noticed. The fact shouldn't have irritated her, but unreasonably, it did.

“Thanks,” he murmured, and the woman straightened.

“You need anything else,” she said with a wink, “you let me know.”

Jade could just guess what need the waitress wanted to help out with—and it wasn't on the menu.

He turned back to Jade, not noticing the hungry gaze of the waitress. “Guess I don't need any ketchup from you, after all,” he said, opening the bottle and pouring a small pool of the stuff by his French fries. “Was there a point to me asking that, by the way?”

Jade waited until the waitress reluctantly retreated to the kitchen, then turned to him. “I'm not talking about asking for ketchup. I'm talking that charm you just
broke out with. You know. What you did to the waitress.”

Now he looked honestly bewildered. “I didn't do anything.”

“Oh,
please.
That Paul Newman stare, your voice going all low and Barry White-esque…” She lowered her own voice. “‘Could you get mustard as well as ketchup? I'd
really
appreciate it.' If that's not charm, I'll eat my luggage.”

“That was just being nice,” he said irritably, dredging a fry in ketchup.

“Ha. If I could be ‘nice' like that, I'd own half of California and a good chunk of Texas,” she said, stirring her shake. “
That's
sales. I couldn't get the woman to give me the time of day, and now she's ready to jump through flaming hoops to get you dessert. What does that tell you?”

He grinned, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “That you annoy more people than just me?”

She growled at him.

“Possibly it's because I'm cuter than you are.”

“Keep burying yourself,” she said between clenched teeth. This wasn't helping him. He was just resisting the issue at hand. “Okay. Are you nice to your customers, then? Friendly, stuff like that?”

He stopped snickering and sobered. “Of course I am. I mean, it's a bit different…”

She pounced. “Why?”

“I don't want her to buy tons of steel products from me,” he said, rolling his eyes as if the question itself was ridiculous. “I didn't want anything from her but ketchup.”

“Which I'm sure she'd be disappointed to hear,”
Jade said offhandedly, then said, “but the fact is, you did want something from her.”

“So, I'm just supposed to say ‘I want an order from you, I'd really appreciate it' and that's it? They'll buy from me?” He rolled his eyes. “Well. I'm certainly getting my hundred thousand dollars' worth of coaching out of this. You're basically saying I should do what I've been doing.”

Jade gave in to the impulse and tugged at her hair, letting out a high-pitched squeak of frustration. “What I'm saying is, if you put sales points in that tone of voice, you'll be able to sell anything to anyone. You tell them how what you're doing will help them, you tell them why you're the best man for the job and follow it all up with that…that—” she made a motion with her hand “—that damned sexy honesty of yours, and you'll slam-dunk it. I'm not asking you to lie. I'm not even asking you to pressure. I'm just saying for you to be a little different in how you say things…and to stop acting like I'm either the enemy or somebody completely useless!”

She realized she was attracting the attention of the only other patron of the diner, as well as the waitress and the cook. She quieted down, muttering into her milkshake, “That's all I'm saying.”

He was staring at her, those light blue eyes of his hypnotic. He was intense, there was no question about that. He looked as though he was really thinking about what she said. There was such a drawing power in him. He might think he was cut and dried, completely devoid of charm, but she knew better. When he wasn't thinking about it, he was one of the most compelling men she had ever met.

Then he opened his mouth.

“Damned sexy, huh?”

She growled, then closed her eyes. Counted to ten. Then she looked at the waitress, who was staring at the table like a predator. “Check, please?”

 

H
AD
D
REW BEEN ALONE
, he probably would have ridden with the window down, his arm getting tanned by the late afternoon sun and chapped by the hot Nevada wind. But he had Jade in the car…a blessedly quiet Jade, who hadn't spoken to him since they'd left the dingy little diner off the highway. He had the air-conditioning going, yet he could still feel the heat waves coming off of her. Some of it was irritation, he realized, trying not to grin. Still, some of it was just her, pure and simple.

She's certainly one of the hottest women I've ever met, no question.

He looked over at her. If it were any other woman, he'd have sworn she was pouting, angry at him for not listening to her, trying to prove her point and “punishing” him by ignoring him. That wasn't Jade, as far as he could tell. He could just see the curve of her high cheekbone since she was turned to the window, and her lower lip pouted in fullness, not temper.

She was considering her next move…and he felt sure there would be a next move. She wasn't giving up or giving in to emotion. She was trying to figure out another way around him.

He grinned, turning his full focus back to the stretch of highway in front of him. He had to say that her determination, while annoying, was also kind of arousing. She was a strong woman. He liked strong women.

A few miles down she finally broke the silence. “When do we get to the hotel?”

“I figure around seven or eight tonight,” he answered, shrugging.

He could feel her gaze on him. “Really? I didn't realize it was so far away.”

“It's not,” he replied. “We're stopping at Martinez Motors first.”

He turned to see her gaping at him in horror. “You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not.” He watched as she went pale. “What?”

“You've been driving about six hours, and now you're going to walk straight into a meeting?”

“I've known Alejandro's family for years,” he said. “When I was in college, I worked for Robson during the summer, and I occasionally drove some deliveries to Martinez Motors. I even did a little work with them when I was at a competing plant. They know me.” He smiled, thinking of the large, family owned operation. “This isn't going to be a problem.”

“Exactly how big a customer are they?”

“Medium big,” he hedged, then said a little more emphatically, “their loyalty is the important thing. Trust me. They're some of the most down-to-earth, real people I know.”

Which was why he'd planned the trip with them as the first stop.

“You could have mentioned this at lunch,” she said, her tone tart.

Now he looked straight at her, grinning. “Would that be before or after you remarked on my Barry White sales abilities?”

She didn't even grace that with a reply. To his surprise, she unbuckled her seat belt and squirmed in her seat, reaching into the back.

“Hey, watch it!” He dodged her shapely hip as she fumbled, obviously tugging at something. “I'm driving here, remember?”

She pulled a bag out of the back seat and sat back down, buckling up. She started rummaging through it frantically. “Martinez Motors, you said?”

He looked at her suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Trying desperately to do some research on the first client sales meeting you're holding,” she said. “We don't have another one today, do we? Some other meeting I don't know about?”

“You don't even need to be involved in this,” he said sharply. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “In fact, I don't see how you being a coach has anything to do with you knowing everything about my customers.”

She sighed. “I'm sure you know everything there is to know about the customers, but you're the one who has problems with sales. I need to know as much about the situation as I can. And I'd like to know what your strategy is, how you plan to sell them.”

He sent her a bewildered glance. “I don't need a strategy with Martinez Motors,” he replied.

She paused. “You don't have
any
strategy? No sales points?”

“I told you, they've worked with us for years.”

He turned to see her arch one graceful eyebrow, then she quickly started flipping through the folder in front of her.

It occurred to him that now was probably the best time to get some ground rules laid out. He knew she wanted to show him how to be a better salesman. He figured that just meant she'd be waiting quietly in the
background while he spoke with his customers and contacts, and then she might say some pithy comments afterward. Now, he realized that wasn't very likely. While he doubted she'd just come out and correct him, he also realized that she'd probably stumble in, thinking she knew about steel or about his customers. She'd probably try to show him how it was done.