In Bed with the Boss. Christine Rimmer
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My son, Maxwell. He’s going into first grade this year.”
“You’re not married,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes on the monitor. She’d checked Single on the application.
She hitched up her chin. “That’s right. It’s just Max and me.”
“I’m guessing your ex-husband has the boy some of the time?”
“There is no ex-husband. In fact, Max’s father is not in the picture.”
“You’re…on your own?”
Irritation made her curt. “Yes.” What business was it of his that Max’s dad hadn’t wanted a kid? “Is that important, somehow?”
He sat back from the computer screen and rested his elbows on the arms of his plush leather chair. “I don’t mean to offend you.” His sincere tone and direct gaze banished her annoyance.
“You haven’t.” Or if he had at first, she was over it.
“I only asked about the child’s care because I travel. To the west coast and to Kyoto, currently, to keep an eye on construction and development at our flagship sites. I’m gone for several days a month. Sometimes I’ll go on my own, but more often than not, I’ll need my assistant with me. Will you be able to manage that, with your son to consider?”
Okay, it wouldn’t be easy. But she could make it work. Because she had to. “If I have at least twenty-four hours’ notice, I can make arrangements for my son’s care. And for the next few weeks, it won’t be an issue. Max is down in Mount Vernon—that’s my hometown. In southern Illinois, not all that far from St. Louis. He’s staying with my parents.”
Those dreamboat-blue eyes measured her. Did he find her lacking somehow? Did he have doubts that she could handle a demanding job, with travel, and take care of her son?
Shelly sat tall. Though her palms felt clammy and her pulse raced, she faked calmness and confidence for all she was worth.
A sweet, open, girl-next-door face, a megawatt smile and a sharp mind. Plus, she took no crap from anyone. Even a prospective boss.
Tom had liked Shelly on sight. Not only did she seem exactly right for the job, there was something… direct about her. Something true. Her handshake was firm, her references good ones. Tom had the feeling he’d be able to count on Shelly Winston, that he’d quickly come to trust her.
Strange, to find himself thinking of trusting someone he’d just met. As a rule, he was more cautious. He’d learned early that it never paid to trust anyone until they’d proved they could be depended on.
Whatever. The point was, she seemed competent. Quick on the uptake and qualified.
He was damned relieved to find someone so quickly. If he had to lose efficient, dependable Verna, his assistant since he’d come to TAKA-Hanson, at least it was looking as though he had her replacement lined up.
He scrolled through the paperwork once more. Everything seemed in order. All he had to do was give the final okay and HR would confirm her references. By tomorrow, Verna would be showing her the ropes.
“It says here you can start right away.…”
She beamed him that beautiful smile. “The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Mom. You can tell me. Are you missing me too much?” Max used his most serious voice.
“Yes,” she said, hugging the phone to her shoulder, wishing he was there so she could hug him in person. “I miss you more than words can ever say.”
“You don’t need me to come home or anything, do you?”
“Do you want to come home?”
He hesitated. “Uh. Well…”
She smiled to herself. “I think you mean no.”
“Well. I’m having a whole lot of fun, that’s all. But I’ll come home if you need me.”
“You stay right there. And don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I promise. Tell me about what you’ve been up to with Granny and Grandpa?”
“I caught two frogs down at the creek today.”
“Big ones?”
“Yep.” Her parents had two acres. A small stream ran about a thousand yards behind the house. “Granny let me keep them in a jar. I even punched holes in the top so that they can breathe. But I only get to keep them for a day, she said. I have to let them go so they can eat a lot of flies. I caught some pollywogs, too. One has legs. I want to watch it turn into a frog, but that takes time, Granny says. And Grandpa took me to get ice cream yesterday. I had vanilla. I like vanilla.…”
He babbled away, intent on sharing each small, special detail of his summer at his grandma’s house. Shelly listened and made admiring, interested noises at the right moments, all the while picturing his pointy little chin and his thick, unruly wheat-colored hair. One big cowlick, that hair of his. It stuck up from his head even when she tried to comb it down.
She wondered if he’d lost his glasses again, or broken them. The thought brought another grin. She could afford to grin over broken glasses now. She had a job. They’d be calling to tell her she was hired tomorrow. She just knew they would. Tom had as good as said she was hired, though the formal offer had yet to be made.
Finally, Max ran out of steam. “And that’s all. I’m having fun, like I said. And I’m being good. And I had a little problem with my glasses when I left them in Grandpa’s chair and he sat on them. But it’s okay. Granny taped them up good as new.”
“I’m sure she did.” She made a mental note to call the optometrist and have another pair made. “I love you.”
“Love you, too. I think I better call you again. I think it should be soon. You know, so you won’t have to miss me too much.”
She suggested Saturday and named a time.
“Okay. I’ll call you then. Granny’s here to talk to you now.…”
Norma didn’t bother with hellos. She went straight for, “Well? How did it go?”
“Really good, Mom.”
“You got the job?” Her mother sounded almost as excited as Shelly felt.
“I think so. I should know for sure tomorrow.”
“I just know this is it, honey.”
“Oh, Mom. I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. You’re going to get that job.”
Shelly hardly slept that night. She couldn’t wait for morning and the phone call she felt certain was coming. She was up at six, dressed and ready to take on the world by a quarter of seven.
Too keyed up to eat, she sat at the two-person table in her small kitchen, staring at the phone in front of her, drinking cup after cup of strong, black coffee.
Nine o’clock went by. Ten. Ten-thirty…
At ten after eleven, the damn thing finally rang. Shelly jumped in surprise and then gaped at it, hardly daring to believe, almost afraid to answer for fear it would be some telemarketer or a friend from her old job calling to ask how she’d been doing.
She let it ring twice, just to prove that she could, and then she snatched it up in the middle of the third ring. “Hello?”
“Shelly Winston, please.” It was one of the women from TAKA-Hanson HR.
Shelly spoke with great poise as she accepted the job. With amazing composure, considering the fact that she could now do miraculous things: pay her mortgage, order new glasses for Max, head over to Dominick’s and buy herself a fat filet mignon, and not care in the least that it was seventeen dollars