woman was in her sixties and had worked there for more than forty years. Totally loyal to the big boss, she’d watched out for his interests like a pit bull.
A light was on inside the end office and Krista could see the outline of a person moving about in there through the frosted glass of the adjoining door.
She stopped in the act of placing copies of her reports at each manager’s seat and stared at the masculine figure who seemed to alternate between pacing and staring out the windows at the scenery.
Was Carrington…Lance, she corrected…nervous about the meeting?
Hmm, she couldn’t picture that. He was hard-edged and confident. Besides, he held all the winning cards in this venture, whatever it was to him.
While she was still staring at the indistinct figure through the glass, the door swung inward. He filled the opening like the hero in a movie close-up, backlit by the windows behind him and appearing bigger than life.
“Good morning,” he said, coming into the conference room and closing the door.
The odd impressions—that of him being nervous or being a super screen hero—fled. He was once more just a man, handsome and dynamic, yes, but not overpowering.
Well, not totally overpowering.
“Good morning.” She finished her task, then hesitated, not sure where she should sit.
“Here’s where you sit,” Lance said, as if reading her mind. He pulled out the chair at one end of the table.
That was Mason’s place, when he deigned to be present, but she didn’t say anything. She supposed, like his father, he was now out of the company.
Lance pulled the chair back for her as she approached. Closer to him, she became aware of him in a whole new way.
In fact, her senses seemed keenly in tune today. First of all, he smelled really, really good. Visually, he looked cosmopolitan in a suit of medium gray with a thin navy blue stripe, a navy shirt and a silk tie of silvery gray. Looking at him almost made her dizzy. It was the oddest sensation.
Frowning at the reaction, she quickly placed her folders on the table and went to the coffee urn. He followed right behind her.
Ignoring the pastries on a silver server, she filled a china cup and returned to her seat.
The new boss also rejected the rich Danish rolls and muffins. Taking his cup, he sat at the opposite end of the table. “Nice day,” he said.
“Yes. The sunshine is…nice.” At that brilliant start, she almost groaned aloud.
Glancing down the shining length of the conference table, she detected a gleam in his eyes. A smile swept over his face, changing him from the serious tycoon to a coconspirator in an intrigue still to be played out.
His eyes no longer seemed wintry to her as they had yesterday. Instead they were cordial.
Inviting.
Intimate.
The warmth in those depths reached inside her, making her aware of things she hadn’t considered in a long time…a sense of security, the way she’d felt as a teenager growing up in Uncle Jeff’s home. And something more…
She shook her head to rid herself of the new sensation. While James had listened when she explained the financial situation, he had been impatient with her ideas for change. Maybe this new CEO would think her suggestions brilliant and let her try some of them.
The absurdity of that idea hit her. A corporate raider, who’d probably leveraged the buyout so that the company was now also in debt up to its neck, letting her have her way?
She forced her gaze to the documents she’d prepared while her heart pounded out a salsa beat in her ears. The arrival of the eight managers helped still the sudden, unexplained tumult.
From their quick glances at Lance, then her, she knew they’d already heard about the new man in the boss’s office and knew something unusual was up. Following ritual, they filled their coffee cups and took their seats. They, too, ignored the treats that were usually a big hit and gone before the meeting was over.
“Good morning,” she said with a calm smile, standing and taking charge as Lance shot her a glance down the table that told her to do so.
Right. She was to introduce him. Which made her feel rather like some kind of Judas to the old order of things.
“By now, each of you are aware of changes in the company, so I won’t keep you in suspense.”
She introduced Lance as the head of CCS and announced the sale of Heymyer to the other company. Varying degrees of shock and alarm flashed into the men’s faces and were gone. They could have been statues, they sat so still.
Starting on Lance’s right, she introduced the six general managers, who had charge of specific production areas, and the two marketing managers, who reported to the vice president, which had been Mason up until yesterday.
Krista glanced at the two empty chairs. James’s secretary normally sat on his left side and took notes at the meetings. Had Lance told her she wasn’t needed today? And was Mason still the VP? She could see similar questions in the men’s eyes.
Changes. Sometimes they were for the good. If Lance meant what he’d said about not closing the place, then all would be well. Maybe.
“I’ll turn the meeting over to our new CEO,” she finished and sat down.
All eyes turned to the other end of the table.
“Acting CEO,” he said, still seated, his manner casual. “Heymyer will be a subsidiary of CCS, the same as Applied Controls.”
Krista recalled the original computer control company had been spun off CCS as its own corporate entity, its shares retained by the parent company, and renamed.
“As with our other companies, Heymyer will have its own CEO. First of all, no changes are imminent. Rumors will abound, but each of you should assure your employees that there are no plans to close the plant. The work schedule will continue as usual. I know the change of ownership will be unsettling to a degree, but I don’t expect production to drop during the transition,” he told them.
His manner was as reassuring as his statements, which were delivered in a confident, decisive tone. Whatever had caused him to pace his office earlier like a restless tiger was well hidden. Or put out of his mind altogether.
She tended to do that—concentrate so fiercely on one thing that everything else disappeared—much to the annoyance of some men she’d dated. Her one serious relationship had ended in failure. Truth was, she wasn’t sure what men wanted, but she wanted someone who really meant forever when he spoke of love.
Her glance went to the new owner. Not someone like him, she quickly asserted, as if he’d been put forward as an example. By nature, a raider was a hit-and-run specialist.
“For the foreseeable future,” Lance was saying, “there will be lots of meetings between this team and the CCS board and executive staff while we work out the integration of goals and procedures.”
And
