Must Like Kids. Jackie Braun
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high-powered executive such as Mr. McAvoy probably wouldn’t or couldn’t appreciate that. Julia didn’t stop to wonder if she might be judging him too harshly. After all, she’d been hired to rescue him from the deep hole he’d dug for himself, one that was costing his company and its investors millions of dollars, all because of an inflammatory statement. Slip of the tongue? Perhaps. But she didn’t buy for a minute that he’d intended the comment as a joke.
Professionally and in her personal life, Julia had met a lot of men like Alec. Men who viewed family obligations, children in particular, as an inconvenience, a burden. It was why, in the four years since her husband’s death, she’d only gone on a handful of dates. Men were interested in getting to know her until they learned that she came with a side order of kids. Then Julia found herself off the menu. It was their loss.
It was Alec McAvoy’s loss, too, she thought, glancing at the folder marked with his name.
She propped a hip on the edge of her desk, picked up the file and leafed through it again as she waited with growing impatience for him to arrive. The photograph was the one that had accompanied the story. It showed a handsome man in his mid-thirties clad in an expertly tailored charcoal suit, dark blue shirt and conservative-print silk tie. A handkerchief of the same print and fabric as the tie peeked from his breast pocket.
“I bet you’ve never wiped a runny nose with that,” she mused aloud.
Julia exhaled slowly. She had to convince mothers the country over that this bachelor CEO of a company that catered to children wasn’t antikid. The task wouldn’t be easy, especially if she didn’t put her heart into it. She didn’t have to like him, she reminded herself. But she had to make sure everyone else did. Still, it would help if she liked him. If she found his personality as appealing as his dark eyes and sexy smile. She frowned and glanced at her watch again. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to like about a man who kept her waiting when she’d gone to the trouble of rescheduling another appointment to fit him in.
Fifteen minutes later, her foot was tapping in agitation when a knock sounded at the door. Sandy, her assistant, poked her head into the room, her expression apprehensive. The young woman knew Julia’s feelings about tardiness, having been on the receiving end of a lecture more than once when she’d first started.
“Mr. McAvoy is here. Shall I show him in or do you want me to reschedule his appointment for another day?”
As tempting as it was to go with the latter, Julia had made a commitment to the Best For Baby board, so she said, “I’ll see him now, thanks. I have a few minutes to spare before I have to leave.”
She ordered herself to be welcoming and enthusiastic. If the image makeover she planned to give him failed to turn around public opinion, she didn’t want it to be because of anything she hadn’t done. It would be all his doing, she decided, when Alec strode into her office with an obvious chip weighting his shoulder. He didn’t want to be here. More than that, he resented being forced to come. The grim set of his jaw made that much clear.
She pegged him as the take-charge sort. That type didn’t like being told what to do, regardless of the reason. Still, Julia hoped she wasn’t going to have to waste precious time trying to convince him they were playing on the same team.
In person, he was taller than she’d expected him to be, surpassing the six-foot mark by at least a couple of inches. His shoulders were broader than she’d guessed from the photo, and she could see now that it was the result of actual muscle rather than a tailor’s creative needlework. As she studied him, an inappropriate amount of awareness stirred in her, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. At her sharp intake of breath, the dark brows over his glass-bottle-green eyes rose fractionally.
He appeared caught off guard as well. For the briefest of moments, feminine vanity had her hoping it was for the same reason she’d been taken aback: attraction—both potent and instantaneous. She dismissed the thought. She was being ridiculous, foolish, which wasn’t like her. More likely, he was surprised by her appearance. A lot of people were when they met her. Julia looked harmless rather than high-powered, as if she should be teaching Sunday school or volunteering for the PTO—both of which she did—rather than single-handedly manipulating the media and realigning the public’s mindset. A client once told her that was her advantage. She certainly used it as one.
Sure enough, he said, “You’re Miss Stillwell?”
“Actually, I go by Ms.”
“Ms.” He nodded, and she thought she heard a hint of derision in his tone when he added, “Of course.”
He extended a hand. It was big and warm, and it nearly swallowed up the one that she offered to him in return.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. McAvoy.” She gestured toward a chair. Perhaps sitting he wouldn’t appear quite as imposing.
He shook his head. “This won’t do.”
Uh-oh. “Excuse me?”
She girded for an argument, but it turned out the effort was unwarranted.
“The courtesy titles. Can we drop them? They make me feel like I’m back in boarding school.”
Boarding school. Which meant he’d grown up in privilege and was used to having far more than his basic needs met. She narrowed in on another clue to his personality. “Let me guess. You had a problem with authority in those days.”
“Sometimes.” She caught a glimmer of rebellion in his green eyes. “Rules are made to be broken.”
“Not my rules. And punctuality is one of them,” she told him pointedly.
“I suppose you’re expecting an apology for my being late.”
“Now that you mention it, that wouldn’t be a bad place to start.”
“Sorry.” His mouth curved into a smile.
Julia ignored the effect it had on her pulse and instead folded her arms. “Is that the best you can do? No wonder your board of directors hired me.”
That had his smile flattening into a tight line.
“I can be persuasive when I want to be.” His gaze shifted south briefly, leaving her to feel exposed even though she knew her neckline to be modest. Then he offered a smile that would have been right at home in the bedroom during foreplay.
Julia wanted to be insulted or outraged or, at the very least, irritated. What she felt was aroused...awakened. That feeling did make her irritated—with both of them.
“Let’s get another one of my rules clear. I have nothing against flattery. In fact, I find that it comes in handy in my line of work. But I am immune to it. You’re not here as my date. You’re here as my client. Save the smoldering looks for your girlfriend.”
His brows rose again. “That was direct.”
“I don’t believe in beating around the bush or playing games. What would be the point? Games are for children.”
“Yes, and apparently I need help where they are concerned, at least in terms of my public image.” His lips returned to a grim line.
“You don’t want to be here,” she remarked.
“No, I don’t, but I wasn’t given a choice.”
She wasn’t the only one who believed in being direct, apparently.
“You made a mess, Mr....Alec.”
“A big one,” he agreed. “But I prefer to clean up after myself.”
“A man who likes to clean up after himself.” She pursed her lips in mock consideration. “As pleasing as I find that attribute in a member of the opposite sex, I’ve been hired to do a job, namely to save yours and pull your company’s stock out of the basement. So, we can be adversaries or you can help me help you.”
He was quiet a moment. Finally, after exhaling deeply, he