why did you?” he asked.
“Do you have any idea what you’re paying me?”
“A lot, apparently.” He shrugged. “I can afford it.”
She had no doubt about that. The question was, could she? He had her for a month. It hadn’t occurred to her that four weeks in paradise with a man who wasn’t a bastard and looked like a movie star could be a very long time.
“So do you want the good news first? Or the bad?” Justine asked.
It was late afternoon on their first full day of working together, and Cal was stretched out on the corner group with his broken leg propped on a pillow. He glanced up from his laptop, focusing on his new assistant, who was sitting at the desk. Her red hair was parted on the side and pulled back into a messy side bun. She was wearing black, square-framed glasses that made her look smart and sexy, a one-two punch that had his gut tightening, not for the first time.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What was the question?”
“I’ve got good news and bad. Are you a get-the-bad-over-with-first kind of guy? Or a put-it-off-as-long-as-possible sort of person?”
“There’s something to be said for both. So...surprise me.” He’d been surprised by many things since she arrived yesterday. What was one more?
“I just received a preliminary environmental report on the wind farm property in upstate New York, and so far there’s no negative impact on the animals, fish or ecosystem in the area affected by the project.”
“Just a guess, but I’d say that’s the good news.”
“It is.”
“And the bad?”
“The people aren’t as open-minded as the wildlife. They’re circulating a petition to squash the project.” She slipped off her glasses. “The land is flat and the turbines are tall, visible for miles.”
“They have to be tall. The higher they are, the more wind is harnessed.” Even he heard the frustration in his voice.
“Protests are in the beginning stages. There may be some things you can do to sway public opinion and get everyone on board with this. Or at least the majority.” She shrugged. “Can’t please all the people all the time.”
What could I do to please her?
Cal couldn’t believe he’d just thought that. He was uncomfortable and it had nothing to do with his broken leg. Working with Justine was disconcerting. She was smart, efficient and seemed to know what he needed before he did. It had gone really well if you didn’t count the part where he wanted to turn the lie about his active sex life into the truth. With her.
Redheads weren’t even his type, but that didn’t seem to make a difference. Maybe it was her eyes—brown with flecks of gold and green. They were different. Exotic. Mesmerizing and calm at the same time.
Beside him on the coffee table, papers were scattered around along with file folders and his cell phone. A half-empty coffee mug was right in the middle of the chaos, like a circus ringmaster. Her desk, on the other hand, was tidy to the point of making his teeth hurt. And it was time to get his head back in the game. There was a lot to accomplish, and one of her responsibilities was to clean up after him. Normally he wasn’t quite this disorganized, but his mobility was limited with the cast on his leg. Work was why she was here in the first place.
“I’ll talk to public relations about the protests and strategies to win over the people,” he said. “Right now, I need you to pull together some alternative energy research. Statistics on the output of wind turbines at different heights. And reports on solar. There’s a parcel of land I’m looking at in Nevada, and that’s the place to go for sun.”
Instead of going along with the directive, his assistant closed her laptop and calmly met his gaze. “I’m happy to take care of that for you in the morning.”
Did he hear her right? Maybe the hard landing from his skydiving misadventure had broken more than his leg. “I’d like you to start compiling it now.”
“If I hadn’t already put in a full day—”
“We stopped for lunch.”
“Yes, and it was incredibly delicious.” Her look was sympathetic. “But I’m officially off the clock now.”
Cal needed to get up and move. The urge to prowl was strong in him, but the plaster on his leg made it problematic, along with reducing the power of the pace as a means to show he was the boss and in charge. That was pompous, but having only one good leg threw him off his game.
He grabbed the crutches and hauled himself to a standing position, then hobbled over to the desk and rested his hip on the corner, letting it take his weight. This wasn’t as effective as looming, but he could still stare her down.
“The fact is,” he said evenly, “I’m always on the clock. There are pros and cons to being the president of a successful company and that’s one of the downsides.”
“So, you’re saying that by extension your assistant needs to always be available?”
“Exactly. I knew you were smart.” And not just another pretty face. But he kept that part to himself.
“Let me ask you this.” She folded her hands and rested them on the unnaturally tidy desktop as she met his gaze. “Is it a matter of life and death for you to have that information this evening?”
“Hart Energy didn’t get to be number one by not being prepared.”
“That’s not what I asked. It was a yes-or-no question.”
Cal was hoping she hadn’t noticed his evasive answer. Buying time, he studied her and couldn’t detect a single sign that she was unnerved. Not a flicker of an eyelash, twitch of her mouth or jump in her pulse. This reaction was as unusual as the shade of her eyes shifting from brown, to gold, to green.
It was a yes-or-no question, but that was irrelevant since he ran the show. “It should be enough that I want what I want when I want it.”
“First of all, that statement comes very close to temper tantrum territory.” The corners of her mouth curved up.
The movement distracted him, drawing his attention to the delicate sensuality of her lips. It was several moments before he realized that she’d called him on his crap.
With an effort he pulled his thoughts together and kept his voice even when he asked, “And second of all?”
“Hmm?” She blinked.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one distracted. “You said ‘first of all.’ That implies there’s a second thing that you wanted to say.”
“Right.” She nodded. “If the reason you’re asking me to work late comes under the heading of life and death, I’m happy to be flexible and accommodate the situation. Otherwise it’s overtime
