Christmas Elopement. Anne Eames
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beam on a construction site. Slow, methodical fingers. She forced her gaze away from his hands. It wasn’t calming her nerves in the least. He raised his head and eyed her, seeming to weigh his words carefully before he spoke.
“Your résumé is impressive and your references think highly of you.”
But? She could feel his hesitation.
“Are you interested in the job?”
She blinked twice, trying not to let her mouth fall open.”Well…yes, I am.” She straightened in her seat.”Is this the time to discuss terms?”
He smiled, then thumbed through his planner for a page of prepared figures, which he tore out and placed on the table. Slowly he turned the page around and slid it closer to her, nodding for her to read.
After one full year—insurance and one week’s vacation. He had to be kidding. She glanced up, hoping to find a teasing smile, but was met by a poker face. She looked back to the paper and skimmed to the last line—compensation.
That did it!
“You can’t be serious?” She shoved the paper back in his direction.
His jaw muscles tightened.”You don’t like the terms?”
“Terms?” She tried to control her temper, but felt it slipping by degrees.”Those aren’t terms.”
“And what would you call them?” His anger flared as easily as hers.
“I’d call them a cash-and-carry discount plan! That’s what I’d call them.”
His anger disappeared, replaced by an amused smirk.”Cash and Carrie.” He paused a moment, considering her words, then laughed a low laugh and shook his head.”We’re bound to be the brunt of a few jokes around the office. Never thought of that before.” Then he met her gaze again.”Okay. I give, Carrie.” He leaned on her name.”What do you think would be fair?”
Carrie relaxed a little, encouraged by his reaction. Anyone with a sense of humor couldn’t be all bad.”First tell me what your policy manual says about insurance and vacation. You can’t very well give me something contrary to the manual.”
Cash closed his planner, leaned back and crossed his arms. His gaze drifted around the room before settling on hers.
“You don’t have a policy manual?” she asked incredulously.
“Have you ever written one?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe that should be your first task. Are you up to the challenge?” He shot her a coy look, and she picked up his pen.
Retrieving the paper, she scribbled new terms next to his, then slid it back to him.”Are you up to these?” He drummed his fingers in silence, and she thought she’d pushed too far.
Finally he folded the paper, stuffed it in the back pocket of his planner and slid from the booth. Carrie sat looking up at him, her stomach in her throat once again.
“Do you have to give notice?”
She exhaled softly.”No.”
“Will eight tomorrow morning work for you?”
She slid from the booth, her feet now inches from his. She put on her best piece-of-cake smile and pretended not to notice his baby blues gazing down at her.”Eight tomorrow it is.”
Early Wednesday morning Gus pulled up at the front door. Carrie yawned, then stretched across the car’s console, planting a kiss on his unshaved cheek.”What would I do without you, Gus McGee?”
He waved his hand as though it were no big deal.”What time should I pick ya up, lass?”
“Uh-uh. You take care of happy hour, and I’ll manage on my own.” She opened her door and stepped out, the wind catching her wild mane. With one hand on the door and the other pushing back a heavily moussed tangle of curls, she gave him one last nervous smile.”Thanks, Gus. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”
“Okay, lass, but if ya find ya need a ride, ya call.”
She shut the door, made a small X over her breast pocket, then waved over her shoulder as she fought a bone-chilling wind the last dozen yards to the entrance.
This weather was just the wake-up call she needed. She’d helped close the pub at 2:00 a.m., then tossed and turned till the alarm sounded at six. Now, as Carrie strode through the front door of Cunningham Construction, butterflies flickered behind her ribcage and a small laugh passed her lips. The last time she walked out that door, she’d been certain she’d never return.
She punched the elevator button and studied the barren atrium with more interest than the first time. It was a massive space that begged for warmth. Maybe everything had been cleared out in anticipation of the holidays. She could picture a tall pine with all the trimmings and large red poinsettias here and there. The door slid open and she stepped in. She smoothed the wrinkles from her navy skirt and straightened the red-white-and-blue scarf that had been tied in a large, loose bow just above the lapels of her red blazer. When she stepped out a moment later, Peggy came around the reception desk and offered her hand.
“Ms. Sargent…welcome! I’m so glad you got the job.” Her handshake was firm and energetic. Carrie smiled back, knowing she’d already made her first friend at Cunningham Construction.
“Thank you, Peggy. I’m glad to be here. But why don’t you call me Carrie? I’m not big on formalities.”
Peggy pumped her hand again, excitedly.”Okay…Carrie. I can’t tell you how happy I am that we’re getting some help around here…especially someone with all your experience.” She finally let go of Carrie’s hand when the phone rang.
Carrie watched the young woman as she answered the phone. There was a smile in her voice, as well as on her face. Cash was lucky to find this one, she decided, just as she saw him round the corner.
“Ms. Sargent! Welcome aboard.” He closed the space between them and extended his hand. She gripped it in hers, remembering the first time he’d taken her hand in both of his. She shook it quickly and let go, an uneasy feeling spreading through her. Poise. Confidence. Where were they when she needed them? Somehow she found her voice.
“Do you mind calling me Carrie?”
“If that’s what you’d like,” he said, and she noticed him giving her a quick once-over. She did look a little like an American flag, but a clean, crisp American flag. Maybe she should go stand in the atrium and brighten things up.
“So…Cash…where do I begin?”
He arched an eyebrow and she knew her mistake instantly. Cash. He hadn’t asked her to call him by his first name. Oh, for Pete’s sake. This was a construction company, not the UN. She continued to smile at him as if she didn’t have a clue his feathers had been ruffled.
Finally he turned around and said,”Follow me.”
His pace was brisk, no-nonsense. She had trouble keeping up. They passed his open door and he turned into the next room, stopping abruptly, with Carrie right on his heels. Somehow she managed to keep from running into him, but when he turned to face her she was close enough to feel his long sigh on her forehead. She stepped back and pretended to take in the room, avoiding those damnable blue eyes.
“This will be your office,” he said, getting right down to brass tacks.
When she finally did look, she saw an eight-foot walnutveneer folding table in the center, surrounded by eight armless brown vinyl chairs. And nothing else. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it, not in a building as grand as this one.
The carpet