been turning to leave, wanting to exit on a high, but his words brought her up short.
“The range reviews? What’s he got to do with the range reviews?”
Regularly reviewing and assessing the performance of the products within the various departments under her purview was an integral part of her—and Zach’s—role.
“He’s sitting in on them. Didn’t you hear?”
She blinked rapidly, trying to get her head around his announcement. The range reviews were tomorrow. She’d assumed she’d be presenting to the merchandising manager, Gary, as usual, as well as the panel of store owners who sat on the catalog committee. Since Makers was a cooperative, its 645 member stores liked to have a say in what was stocked and how it was promoted, and the representative store owners on the committee spoke on their behalf. They could be a force to be reckoned with at times, but she was used to dealing with them.
Henry Whitman was a whole other story, though.
“When did you find this out?” Her voice was high with surprise.
“Last week sometime.”
Which meant he’d had days to make his presentation as kick-ass as possible, while she had—she checked her watch—less than twenty-four hours.
Aware of Zach watching her, she forced herself to shrug as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Should make it a bit more interesting than usual.”
“Absolutely.” He grinned, the epitome of cocky arrogance.
She forced her mouth into what she hoped was an equally confident smile and headed for the door, making an effort not to hobble in her too-tight shoes or show by the flicker of an eyelid that she was battling a panicky wash of adrenaline. Showing any weakness in front of this man was the equivalent of a limping gazelle bathing in gravy and handing out paper plates and serviettes to the waiting lions. She wasn’t about to make it easy for him.
In her office, she dialed her boss.
“Gary, what’s this I’m hearing about Henry Whitman sitting in on our range reviews tomorrow?”
“Oh, yeah. I meant to let you know. He wants to get a feel for our systems, see people in action.”
“Right.” She bit the single word out. Gary was a good guy, but sometimes he forgot to pass on things and this was a classic example.
“Relax, Audrey. You’ll do fine.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She tossed the phone onto her desk and called up the range review file. She’d opted to rationalize the portable heating range and had arranged her points neatly in a slide show presentation, complete with product specifications, images and pricing. It was fine, perfectly adequate, but there were no bells or whistles or extras. She knew without a doubt that Zach’s would have all of the above, and more.
“Crap.”
You can do this. You’ve got all night to make this better. Take a deep breath and think.
She stared at her computer screen, but instead of neat bullet points, she saw her bank statement. She’d stretched herself so she could buy the small one-bedroom apartment she called home. She had car payments to meet, too. If she failed to impress tomorrow and the Executioner put her head on the chopping block, it wouldn’t take long before her life unraveled at the seams.
She shook her head in instinctive rejection of the scenario. She had all night. It would be enough.
She would make it enough, if it killed her.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS NEARLY seven by the time Zach switched off his computer and slid the paperwork he was taking home with him into his briefcase.
A single light shone on the other side of the department. Audrey’s office. He hesitated, then changed course. He couldn’t help smiling when he stopped in her doorway. The sleek, put-together woman from this morning was long gone. Her hair had been released from the updo and hung to her shoulders in a rumpled mess. Her jacket had been discarded and her sleeves rolled up. Her shoes were abandoned in the corner, lying on their sides. She glanced at him before her gaze returned to the computer.
“If you’re looking for the quarterly report, I passed it on to Tom already,” she said, referring to a dense, complicated report they circulated among the department to save on paper waste, one of Makers’s feeble attempts at being environmentally aware.
He knew without asking that she was working on her range review; it was what he’d be doing, too, if he’d just learned that his new boss was going to be breathing down his neck during the presentation.
“Unclench, Mathews. Your review is probably word perfect, as always. Go home and get some food and sleep.”
Her gaze lifted to his again, her expression incredulous. “As. If.”
Which was exactly what he’d say, too, if their positions were reversed.
“If you’re overtired, you’ll make mistakes.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Humor me and at least stop for dinner, then.”
She frowned, as well she might. What did he care if she ate or not? She was his rival, not his friend.
“This may come as a shock to you, but I’ve been looking after myself for a few years now. I think I have the hang of it,” she said.
Fine. He wasn’t even sure what impulse had driven him to swing by her office, anyway. Whatever it was, it had been a mistake.
“Suit yourself.” He started to turn away, then hesitated. “If you get to the point where you’re ready to chew your arm off, there’s a stash of protein bars in the bottom left drawer of my desk.”
She blinked, clearly surprised by his offer. He lifted a hand in farewell and headed for the exit, unsettled by his own altruistic impulse. For a long time now, his energies had been focused on only two things—protecting his mother from herself and establishing himself in his career. Everything else—women, friendships, outside interests—had taken a backseat. It was the reason his last girlfriend, Tina, had walked. She’d said he didn’t care enough, and in the eight months since their breakup he’d come to acknowledge that she’d been right. The bottom line was that there were only so many hours in the day, and he had only so much energy. Which was why he’d been sleeping alone since Tina bailed on him.
So why was he looking out for Audrey, worrying about whether she was skipping dinner, for God’s sake?
He threw his briefcase onto the backseat of his Audi sedan and slid behind the wheel, uncomfortably aware that part of his motivation might be that Audrey was about his age, with a damn fine figure and a low, sexy voice that had always intrigued him.
Yeah. Hard as it was to admit, apparently he wasn’t immune to the urgings of testosterone.
Well, his gonads were going to have to find someone else to
