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Except that one night.
That one fizzled-out fire of a night.
Her twenty-first birthday and she’d intended to lose her virginity to him until he figured out what she was doing and backed away as if she were contagious or radioactive or both.
“Not at all. I’m perfectly fine.” The backs of her hands stung from scrapes and she’d snagged her jacket, but no way would she admit that.
“You’ve got…leaves.” Chase reached over and tugged mesquite twigs from her curls.
“Thanks.” She stepped back, needing distance from the man and to retrieve the tatters of her dignity.
“You’re all dressed up.” He shaped his hands in a body curve, not sexual at all, but his golden-mocha eyes held her tight. He had a way of really looking, as if he knew her well and was damned glad about it. Chase was a charmer, for sure.
He looked good in trendy jeans and a black microfiber shirt that molded itself to his chest. He clearly squeezed gym time into his jet-setting party schedule. Mary Beth kept Sylvie updated on his exploits through Fletcher.
“I’ve got a meeting.” She looked at her watch. Uh-oh. She had to get upstairs.
“I’ll get that.” He nodded up at the fluttering toilet paper she’d been unable to grab. “You can head in. Dad’s already there.”
“He is? Damn. Thanks.” She spun on her heels and ran. She was halfway down the mall before she realized Chase had never answered her question: Why was he here?
FROM THE TOP OF THE LADDER, Chase watched Sylvie take off, blond curls bouncing, backside firm in that tight skirt. Hardly any jiggle to it. Mmm, mmm, mmm.
Distracted, he nearly took a tumble himself. Focus, bro.
He grabbed the fluttering toilet paper and lowered himself to the ground.
The stockings had been a surprise. He’d have pegged Sylvie as a bare-legs girl—practical, simple and easy.
She did need help, Fletcher was right about that. Why the hell was she out here doing yard work in a suit?
She seemed worried and looked exhausted, probably from juggling two demanding jobs.
According to Fletcher, she was eager to join her boyfriend in Seattle, so Chase taking over the GM job would be a relief to her. Funny, but Sylvie didn’t strike him as someone who would arrange her life around a guy, but people changed, he guessed.
She was still a wound-up coil of energy, for sure, with a spark in her green eyes and a plan cooking every second. She still had that steady serenity about her that he’d loved. She made him want to slow down and just pay attention.
Even flustered, falling into a tree, flashing the world her underthings, she’d remained her solid self. Ah, Sylvie. He had to smile. She always made him smile.
He needed it, too. Chase’s focus in Phoenix was getting his new project off the ground, but his father and brother were in a tug-of-war over the fate of the mall, and Fletcher had asked Chase to bring his dealmaker eye to the situation.
If his family needed him, Chase was there, regardless of the personal land mines he’d have to dodge.
Bailing Sylvie out was a nice bonus.
Chase handed the ladder off to a worker and tossed the paper in the trash on his way into the mall.
He stepped inside and was hit with sick dread, reminded instantly of the months he’d run the mall once his mother became too weak to make the drive. He’d been barely there, a ghost, going through the motions, his attention on his failing mother. The mall was her joy.
It was named after her because she was the light of their father’s life—all their lives, really. Starr had smoothed Marshall’s rough edges and oiled the friction between the two brothers, building a decent family out of the four of them. After she died, they’d fallen apart, bumped heads, scraped words, grieving in their separate ways.
If emotions ruled, they couldn’t sell this place fast enough to suit Chase. But he did business based on facts, not feelings. So Chase would gather the data, drill down to the bottom line, then lay out the case for either keeping the mall or selling it based on what he found.
Which likely wouldn’t resolve the issue. Fletcher was as stubborn as their father, whom they called the General. Marshall would never sell away his wife’s dream while Fletcher was convinced that selling was the only way to go.
Chase took the stairs to the mall offices, where his father stood in the doorway to the meeting, munching on a pastry, a china cup puny in his big hand.
“You’re holding up the show, son,” he boomed, his voice as big as his presence. Marshall McCann took up a lot of space. He motioned Chase inside.
Sylvie looked startled to see him. “You’re sitting in? Oh. Okay.” She bit her lower lip, a move Chase felt below the belt. Sylvie had the most kissable mouth he’d ever tasted, before or since that ill-advised night.
“Grab him a chair, would you, hon?” his father said to Sylvie. “And some of this good coffee, too.”
“That’s not her job,” Chase said, shooting Sylvie an apologetic look. “I can get my own coffee.” He helped himself to a scone while he was at it and pulled up a chair.
Sylvie stood there looking stunned. What the hell?
“You all right?” he asked her, munching on the pastry. God, it was delicious. Tangy and moist. Sunni Ganesh knew how to roll dough, for sure.
“The team’s on the field, let’s put the play in motion,” his father said, rolling his hands like a referee.
Good grief. The man had gone from gruff to sexist to clownish in a few short words.
“The team?” Sylvie’s smile went stiff as plaster.
“That’s right,” his father said. “Team Starlight Desert Mall. Sylvie, meet your new head coach. And, Chase, Sylvie’s your able assistant coach. Let’s kick off.”
“Head coach?” Sylvie repeated. “Does that mean…?” She turned to Chase. “You’re the new general manager?”
“That’s the plan,” his father answered for him, beaming.
“Oh.” Sylvie looked like she’d been punched in the gut. “I didn’t realize…” So much for easing her burden the way he’d expected. Judging from her stricken face and the storm clouds in her green eyes, Chase had just gone from hero to villain in ten seconds flat.
CHAPTER TWO
MARSHALL HAD GIVEN CHASE her job. Rocked by the news, Sylvie bumped the table, jarring the computer mouse so the first slide of her presentation flashed on the screen.
It was a photograph of all the store owners grouped in front of the mall wearing sunglasses. Underneath, the caption read, The Future’s So Bright, We Have To Wear Shades.
Meanwhile, Sylvie’s future had just gone black.
Her loyalty, devotion, hard work and brilliance meant nothing. Marshall trusted family over her and that hurt. Bad.
“Sylvie? Are you okay?” Chase asked.
“Sorry. Yes. Let’s, um, get started, shall we?” She would go through her presentation and figure out a solution as she went along. She managed a smile at her audience, Chase and Marshall, who would determine her fate, her heart just aching.
“In tough economic times, shoppers must be selective about where they shop and how much they spend.” She somehow kept her voice steady, her tone upbeat. As she spoke, she clicked through slides of the stores, one at a time, each with its owner in smiles and sunglasses. She’d been so proud of this presentation.
Now she just felt sick.
“Weary of huge malls, with their generic stores and indifferent salespeople, today’s shoppers want a place where cheerful, caring employees guide them to the goods they want at the prices they need. Just like the famous Cheers pub, they want to go where everybody knows their name.” She paused.
“And where is that?” She tried for the grin she’d planned, but her face muscles lagged. “Starlight Desert Mall, of course, where our forty shops are one-of-a-kind, where every salesperson is eager to assist, where prices are fair and customers are treated like royalty.”
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, so she took a sip of water. “And how do we know this? We asked our customers!” She clicked through several charts from a recent survey and summarized the positive findings.
Next came the tough part—the revenue dip.
She flashed to the graph with its visible down-tick. “Though the general economic downturn has resulted in a slight drop for us, we’ve replaced four of the six lost tenants and in a blip of time we’ll hit our financial stride again.”
She paused. “However, to be certain we were on firm ground, last week I met with a top mall renovation consultant and she declared us solidly positioned to survive the downturn. Here are some excerpts of her report.”
Sylvie flashed quotes about the mall’s stability, its unique niche, its staying power.
She glanced at Marshall, who was nodding along, clearly impressed. Chase’s face was neutral. Should that worry her? Maybe he just didn’t care. This was hardly his area of interest. He’d been a piss-poor manager those months he’d been in charge after Starr got sick, hardly there and unresponsive when he was. The rest of the team had soldiered on, leading themselves.
And now he would be her boss. She made a fist of her nonmouse hand to contain her frustration.
“Starlight Desert is what’s known in the industry as a ‘destination mall,’ she continued. “People don’t just go to the mall. They go to Starlight Desert. They know they’ll get a special shopping experience within these colorful walls. That’s why, in these difficult times, while generic malls lose revenue or close their doors, Starlight Desert will not only survive, we will thrive.” She paused for a breath.
“Excellent presentation,” Marshall said, pushing himself heavily to his feet. “Thank you, Sylvie.”
“Oh, I’m not finished yet.” She smiled at him.
“That’s fine. I’ll let you and Chase carry on from here.”
“You’re leaving?” She was stunned.
“I think that’s best.” He looked briefly around the room. “Starr surely did love this place.” He cleared his throat, his smile wistful.
But he couldn’t leave. Not when she’d worked so hard. “Please stay, Marshall. I’m nearly finished.” She held her breath, her heart banging her ribs, waiting for his answer.
“Five minutes,” he said sternly, lowering himself again, his bushy eyebrows dipping into a frown. Marshall did not like to be disagreed with. Eccentric, obstinate and cranky, he gave Fletcher, his second-in-command, hell, according to Mary Beth.
“Thank you.” Sylvie’s pulse raced. Make it good. Make it count. “The Black Friday promotion I’ve planned, ‘A Starlight Desert Christmas,’ will dramatically boost our revenues, but I’ll save that portion for another time—” she clicked quickly through those slides “—and move straight to what’s most crucial now—mall leadership.”
She stopped at the slide that showed her career path, from gift wrapper, to mall maintenance crew, to cashier at the card shop, then hobby shop manager, GM secretary, marketing assistant, and finally operations manager for the past two years, where she handled the budget, maintenance, capital outlay and more.
Marshall seemed restless, and Sylvie heard her voice tighten with tension as she explained how she’d cut expenses, negotiated discounts with vendors, met tenant needs in a timely fashion, been active with the Retail Association and coordinated community events—a heart-healthy foods cook-off, a karate kick-a-thon for cancer, a community theater production and a skateboard competition.
These tasks were Mary Beth’s responsibility, but Sylvie had taken the lead, assisted by Olive, their part-time marketing assistant. Sylvie, like Starr before her, believed Starlight Desert should be as good a neighbor to the community as it was a family to the employees and shop owners.
She clicked to the final slide of her and Sunni outside the bakery, Sunni with a basket of scones on one hip, sunglasses on the tops of both their heads, holding up red umbrellas on which Sylvie had stenciled The Starlight Desert Family: Together we weather any storm.
Her cuticles still sported black spray paint from stenciling an umbrella for each tenant. She’d planned to hand them out on her walk-around announcing her new job.
Then she delivered her bottom line: “I hope you can see that with my skills, experience and commitment, I’m uniquely suited to lead the Starlight Desert family through the economic storm into its bright and sunny future.”
She stopped, her pulse throbbing in her ears, waiting for Marshall’s reaction. He looked bewildered and so did Chase.
Eventually Marshall spoke. “We’re kind of caught off guard here, Sylvie. We hoped you’d stay on as operations manager as long as you remained in Phoenix.”
“As long as I remained? What does that mean?”
“Mary Beth let Fletcher know you were headed for Seattle. There’s someone special there?” He smiled faintly.
Mary Beth told Fletcher about Steve? “Not anymore, no. I mean, we dated, but… Never mind.” No way was she discussing her love life with the McCanns. “The point is I’m not leaving.”
“Well, then, that’s good news for us. You’d be tough to replace, in point of fact.” Marshall seemed to hesitate. He glanced at Chase, then cleared his throat again. “Which is why we’d like to, uh, offer you a bit of a salary increase.”
“That’s nice and all, Marshall, and I know we’d have to hire someone for my old job, but I’d happily train that person.” She smiled, forcing more confidence into her voice than she felt. “With the holiday season approaching, we need strong, knowledgeable leadership. And that would be…me.”
“No can do, Sylvie. I’m sorry. We feel this is best.”
“I have to respectfully disagree. I—”
“Let me tell you a personal story that might help you,” Marshall said. “When I was a young man, I worked as a clerk in a drugstore. I loved the job and before long they offered me a position as shift manager. I jumped at it—it was more money, more responsibility, more prestige. The only problem was—” he paused for effect “—I hated it. I was a terrific cashier, but a miserable manager. I should have stayed with what I loved, with what I was good at. Do you see my point?”
“I’d be great as GM,” she said woodenly, feeling the ground slide beneath her. She was lost. “With all respect to Mary Beth, I’ve already taken on many of her tasks.”
“And we appreciate that. You’re tremendous at what you do, so we want you to keep doing it. And at a higher salary, now, I insist.” He wagged a finger at her. “I’ll let you and Chase decide on the proper amount.”
“It’s not about the money, Marshall,” she said, her mind a riot of arguments and despair. Marshall didn’t believe she was up to the job and that broke her heart. She hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt.
“I’m sure you’ll come to see this arrangement is best for all concerned.” He stood, signaling the end of the discussion.
Not for her. For her it was the worst. Her throat burned and she’d dug half-moons into her palms with her nails.
“Can we count on you to stay with us? I’m sure MegaMalls would snap you up in a Mall-of-America minute.”
“I’m happy here, Marshall. And I’ll do what’s best for the mall.” Her insides seemed to sag like her spirits.
“We wouldn’t expect anything less. Hell, you’ve been practically part of our family.” Marshall leaned forward for another scone. “These things are sinful. Great coffee, too.”
God, he did think of her as the snack girl.
“I’ll leave you two to work out the playbook.” He lumbered out the door without looking back.
If only Starr were alive. Starr would have known what was going on, how hard Sylvie worked, how qualified she was. Starr would have fixed this.
Water wobbled in Sylvie’s eyes, but she would not let one tear drop in front of Chase, who stood and joined her, his expression uneasy and full of pity.
“Look, I’ll be counting on you a lot, Sylvie,” he said, as if that made it better. “If you want we can comanage the place. How’s that? The title’s not a big deal to me.”
Anger flared. “Well, it is to me. It’s a huge deal to me. And as far as comanaging goes, operations is a full-time job. So is the general manager’s if it’s done properly.”
“Calm down, Sylvie. I’m on your side here.” He was trying to mollify her as if she were an angry child who’d lost her Popsicle.
