need to hold the best fundraiser this place has ever had. Mission statements are not my concern.”
She blinked, but his expression didn’t change. He was serious. Okay, wow.
“You’re going to have a very big problem, then. People don’t give money to fundraisers. They give to a cause they believe in. Your job is to make them believe in it. Don’t you think that in a city like Chicago there are a hundred—a thousand—places for people to donate? How do they decide? You help them decide by passionately pitching your mission statement to them.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” In the long pause, they stared at each other without blinking. “You’ve done fundraising before. Did you apply for the wrong position here?”
Yes. Yes, she had.
That was all the opening she needed to segue this potential disaster into something more her speed. “Perhaps, but only because you posted a job opening for the wrong position. Sounds like you need someone in your back pocket to tell you what to do, not the other way around. Were you not aware that you have serious deficiencies in your operating philosophy?”
Xavier leaned back in his chair as his gaze narrowed. “Can I be honest with you, Ms. Dixon?”
Oh, God, yes. Please spill all your secrets, Mr. LeBlanc.
“Only if you call me Laurel.”
His lips lifted into a brief smile that she fully expected meant he was about to argue with her. But he didn’t. “Laurel, then. You need to understand what’s happening here and I’m choosing to trust you, which is not something I do lightly.”
His tone or his smile or her own conscience tripped something inside. Guilt plowed through her stomach out of nowhere. It was one thing to dig deep enough to learn someone’s secrets when they were scamming, but she had no evidence Xavier was even involved in the fraud. What if her investigation caused problems for him?
Ugh, she was getting way ahead of herself. Her sources were credible and if there was something to uncover, Xavier would likely be happy that she’d done so. It was a public service, really. Surely he’d respect that.
“I’ll do my best to be worthy of that trust.”
He nodded once. “Then I have a confession. I am not well versed in how to run a charity. I do need help.”
She very nearly rolled her eyes. This was him being honest? “I already figured that out.”
“I’m doing my best to keep that nugget of truth from the rest of the staff,” he said wryly. “Which is why I try to stay out of their areas of expertise. That’s where you come in.”
“I hear you. You want to hide out here in the office while everyone else does the dirty work.” She stared him down as his eyebrows came together. “Too bad. You signed up to run LBC. Now do it. I’ll help. We’ll be partners.”
She stuck out her hand and waited. She needed him, whether she liked it or not. Whether he liked it or not. And the reverse was also clearly true. They would do this together or not at all. If she had a partner, the less chance she had of screwing up.
Xavier let her sweat it for about thirty seconds and then reluctantly reached out to clasp her hand for a very long beat that neither of them mistook for a simple handshake. There was too much electricity, too much unsaid for that.
The less she let him focus on that, the better.
Partners.
That was a concept Xavier liked a whole lot, given his distinct impression that Laurel Dixon was hiding something. He liked it even better that she’d been the one to suggest working together. The closer he kept her, the easier it would be to keep an eye on her.
He trusted her about as much as he’d trust a convicted car thief with the keys to his Aston Martin.
But he also understood that his lack of trust wasn’t specific to Laurel. If he really wanted to get honest about it, his inability to stop being both suspicious and cautious had probably been at least half of Marjorie’s problem with him. That’s why he’d thought a hands-off approach with the new services manager might work best. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t shake that weird, misty feeling that sprang up inside whenever he was in the same room with Laurel Dixon. He’d hoped to avoid examining that by staying away from her.
Ms. Dixon had blown that plan to smithereens.
Jury was still out on how much wreckage he’d have to step over. Especially given the instant and volatile chemistry between them, which he’d been wholly prepared to pretend didn’t exist until she’d so eloquently refused to let him. So that was a thing. The next three months should be incredibly taxing and exceedingly painful, then.
“Partners. What happens next?” Xavier asked Laurel once he’d dropped her hand, though the severed contact didn’t eliminate the buzzing awareness arcing between them at all.
Not that he’d expected it to. Regardless of what he called the vibe between them, it wasn’t going away. The trick was managing it. Which meant it would be a bad idea to touch her again, and of course, that was all he could think about.
“Follow me.”
She slid from the seat she’d perched in when she first came into his office and glanced over her shoulder, perhaps to ensure he was doing as she commanded. As if he’d miss a second of whatever she had up her sleeve. Not likely.
Xavier trailed her to the receptionist’s desk. Adelaide’s eyes widened behind her bifocals as they approached and taut lines appeared around the woman’s mouth. He nearly growled at her just to see if she’d actually come out of her skin. What good was it to have people afraid of him if he couldn’t have fun with it occasionally?
Before he could try it, Laurel flipped a lock of her long sable-colored hair behind her back. “Today is your lucky day, Addy. You’re in charge from now on. Mr. LeBlanc has given you a promotion.”
“I did not. Oof.” Laurel’s elbow glanced off his ribs, leaving a sharp, smarting circle of shut up below his heart. “I mean...yeah. What Laurel said.”
Adelaide’s wide-eyed gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them as if she couldn’t quite get her bearings. He knew the feeling.
“That’s very generous, Mr. LeBlanc,” she squeaked. “But I don’t understand. A promotion?”
“Exactly.” Laurel beamed so brightly, Xavier could see the rays from his position behind her. “To Services Manager. You’re going to take Marjorie’s place.”
Wait, what? That was going a little far. If Adelaide had been remotely qualified or interested in the position, she would have applied for it the second the job posting had gone up. What, exactly, was Laurel up to?
“Are you sure about this?” he muttered in Laurel’s ear and caught her elbow a hairbreadth from his ribs, holding it tight just in case she was stronger than she looked.
Clearly
