скачать книгу бесплатно
So what’s new?
Since when had his life been anything but a never-ending list of problems—starting with his parents’ death when he’d been nineteen, assuming responsibility for raising his eleven-year-old brother, taking on a pile of debts run up by a father hell-bent on making his harebrained schemes work and, lately, trying to raise his floundering business out of a financial quagmire?
Just another day at the office, he thought, before sinking into his leather chair and scrutinising the latest batch of reports on his desk.
Despite the business acumen of his staff, the profit margins he’d predicted for the company had continued to fall at an alarming rate, leaving him in a quandary. He’d tried team-building exercises, personal pep talks and a bonus incentive scheme but nothing had worked and the strange lethargy that plagued most of his employees was starting to have disastrous consequences on the company’s bottom line.
Rubbing his forehead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The image of Fleur Adams popped into his head and he wondered if he was doing the right thing in considering hiring her to save his company. He’d been impressed—hell, he’d been downright flabbergasted—at the services she’d advertised in her brochures, as if she’d read his mind and known exactly what he needed to make this work.
OK, the brochures hadn’t been the only things that had impressed him. Once he’d taken the time to look at the woman whose head collided with his elbow, he’d been pleasantly surprised. A pair of worldly brown eyes had stared at him, almost startling in their clarity for one so young. He’d guessed her age to be early twenties, which was why he’d questioned her ability to deliver everything her brochures said. How could anyone so young be that experienced?
You were.
He grimaced, hoping that the lovely young woman he’d been lucky enough to bump into today hadn’t learned life’s lessons the hard way, as he had. His view of the world was far too jaded for a man of thirty-eight and there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it. Growing up too quickly did that to a person.
Shaking his head, he resumed reading the reports on his desk and hoped that Fleur would call. If not, he’d have to come up with some other brilliant idea to make his company a viable proposition again. And hope to bump into another lady who piqued his interest as much as she had.
Fleur’s heels clicked against the polished parquetry floor as she strode towards the front desk of Innovative Imports, keeping pace with her pounding heart. She’d done at least thirty of these presentations by now and should be feeling more confident. However, she knew that her nervousness had more to do with whom she was pitching to today rather than her own material.
Strangely, the receptionist barely looked up as Fleur approached the desk. ‘Excuse me, I’m Fleur Adams and I’m here to see Darcy Howard.’
The girl glanced up, appearing harassed yet bored at the same time, if that was possible. ‘Take a seat and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.’
Fleur smiled her thanks and received a polite nod in return before the receptionist turned away and punched numbers into a console. So much for first impressions. If this girl was any indication of the calibre of staff that the company employed, she’d have her work cut out for her. If Darcy Howard hired her, that was.
She’d barely sat down before the man in question opened a nearby door and beckoned to her. ‘Come in, Ms Adams. I’ve been expecting you.’
Fleur stood up, grabbed her portfolio and followed him into his office, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl being summoned to the principal’s office. If she thought Darcy Howard had looked intimidating the first time they’d met, it was nothing to the vibes he exuded now. Little wonder the receptionist didn’t have any spark in her; the poor thing was probably too scared to show any signs of life.
‘Please, have a seat.’ He waved towards an over-stuffed leather chair that didn’t look comfortable. ‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’
‘No, thanks. And please, call me Fleur.’ She perched on the edge of the chair; as predicted, it threatened to eject a person from its shiny, over-filled surface rather than encourage sitting back and relaxing. Heck, she’d barely been here five minutes and already knew that this man needed her services to revamp every aspect of his business, from furniture to personnel.
He sat behind a monstrous mahogany desk and rested steepled fingers on his chest, reminding her once again of her old high-school principal. Next she’d be hearing, ‘Miss Adams, have you been smoking behind the shed?’ Or better still, ‘Miss Adams, your dress is far too short. Let that hem down at once!’
‘Is something funny?’
Trying to control the twitching of her lips, which threatened to break into a full-blown grin at any second, she schooled her face into a mask of professionalism. ‘Not at all. Now, where would you like me to start?’
He smiled, a small movement involving an upturning of his lips rather than a genuine happy gesture. ‘I’d like to hear what you can do for my company.’
‘That depends on you.’
‘Oh?’
How he managed to instil so much disapproval into one tiny syllable, she’d never know. However, far from being daunted, she launched into her spiel and hoped he’d buy it.
‘Mr Howard, I need to know your company’s strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats before I can give you an in-depth analysis of what I can offer you. Let’s begin with the stakeholders and key result areas—’
‘Let’s not,’ he interrupted, sitting forward and fixing her with a probing stare.
‘Pardon?’
He stood up and started pacing the office, drawing her attention to the designer suit encasing his toned body. For a businessman, he obviously found time to work out. Pity he couldn’t improve his personality to go with the body.
‘I don’t need some generic spiel about what you can offer the company. I’ve already read all that in your brochure and it’s exactly what I’m after.’ He stopped for a moment and sat on the corner of the desk, looking down at her. ‘Tell me about you.’
Surprised at his change of subject, Fleur tried to focus her attention on giving him a brief yet professional outline of her qualifications. However, the harder she tried to focus, the more her attention shifted to the man sitting in front of her with his crotch at eye level.
Wrenching her gaze away, she looked up at him, only to find him looking at her with those all-seeing, all-knowing blue eyes. And if she didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn she glimpsed amusement in their depths.
Clearing her throat, she gave him the abbreviated version of what she assumed he wanted to know. ‘I’m an accountant by profession but found the job too restrictive. I completed a degree in psychology for kicks, anything to break out of the staid accountancy mould. And here I am, trying to combine the two.’
He fixed her with yet another piercing stare. ‘So what was so restrictive?’
‘Everything,’ she answered too quickly, before composing herself. ‘I mean, some people just aren’t cut out for that type of work and I’m one of them.’
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’
‘I like to live outside the box. I’ll try anything once and being an accountant, surrounded by conservative types who try their utmost to stay inside that box, just didn’t do it for me.’ The interview had taken a decidedly personal turn and, rather than being insulted, Fleur was strangely flattered that he wanted to know what made her tick.
‘Anything, huh?’ He leaned towards her and for one, insane moment she thought he might kiss her.
She nodded, wondering if she’d lost her mind and mentally cursing Liv for filling her head with romantic notions from those damn novels she read.
He stood up and extended his hand. ‘Good. In that case, you’re hired.’
Fleur managed a smile as she placed her hand in his, more prepared this time for the little jolt of electricity that shot up her arm. ‘Thanks for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.’
She wasn’t sure if he held her hand a fraction too long before dropping it. ‘How soon can you start?’
‘Whenever you want me.’
‘Tonight?’ And just like that, the air around them seemed to crackle with some indefinable force, leaving Fleur with the distinct urge to test the boundaries with her new boss.
So what if he acted as if he’d just stepped off the ark? Maybe she could help him lighten up a little and have some fun in the process.
But he’s your boss.
The thought dampened her impish side in a second. What was she thinking? She’d just landed a prime job with a large company that could set her own business on its way and what was she planning? To seduce the boss! She needed to get a life. Fast.
‘Tonight is fine. What did you have in mind?’
He turned away from her and returned to the sanctuary of his desk. ‘Why don’t we have dinner and I can fill you in on the company?’ Several papers were picked up and reshuffled, as if he didn’t care about her answer.
Fleur’s heart lurched at the thought of spending an evening with this man, who had the power to unnerve her without trying. ‘Sure. Name the place and time.’
He looked up, an expression of relief softening his hard features. ‘The Potter Lounge. At eight?’
Fleur hoped the surprise didn’t show on her face. He’d just named one of Melbourne’s stuffiest, pretentious restaurants, usually reserved for regular guests or those hell-bent on making an impression.
‘Formal or cocktail wear?’
‘Whatever takes your fancy.’ His gaze wandered down the length of her body, leaving a trail of goose pimples in its wake. ‘Though I’m sure you’d look great in anything.’
Heat flooded her cheeks, though before she could come up with an appropriate retort he stalked across the room and held the door open for her in an obvious sign of dismissal. ‘See you tonight?’
Clutching her portfolio under one arm and swinging her handbag over the other, Fleur strode past him. ‘See you then. And thanks once again for the opportunity, Mr Howard.’
‘It’s Darcy, remember?’
She managed a polite smile and nod before he shut the door.
It’s Darcy, remember?
His deep voice echoed through her mind along with every word he’d uttered in her bizarre interview. After the impression he’d just made on her, how could she forget?
CHAPTER TWO
IT HAD been a long time since Darcy had taken a woman out for dinner. His ever-increasing schedule put paid to any social life he’d once had, not that any woman had held his interest long enough for him to consider pursuing her.
Until now.
He shook his head, mentally chastising himself for allowing his thoughts to head down that track. Fleur Adams was business, not pleasure, a fact he shouldn’t forget if he wanted his company to survive.
So what if he’d already decided to hire her before the interview? He’d needed to know more about the woman who held the future of his business in her hands, besides the basics. In a way, that was what tonight would be also, another ‘get to know you’ session.
So was that why he’d picked the fanciest place to dine in town? They had to eat and he’d sooner indulge his passion for fine food and wine at a recognised establishment than some poor imitation. God, he sounded like a pompous ass at times! He would frighten the poor woman off if he spoke like that.
Funnily enough, he already had the impression that Fleur thought he was an old fuddy-duddy; that was why he’d paid her a compliment, in the hope she would realise that he wasn’t above admiring a beautiful woman when he saw one, though her reaction had intrigued him. Young women these days rarely blushed and he wondered if her feisty words about ‘trying anything once’ were merely a front of false bravado too.
Maybe he could test her out? And maybe you need your head read!
Pulling up in front of the restaurant, he handed the car keys to the valet and almost bounced up the marble steps. Whoever had invented that stupid rule about not mixing business with pleasure? Tonight, he had every intention of pushing the boundaries.
Fleur took a steadying breath, tilted her chin up and walked into the elaborate dining room of the Potter Lounge, trying not to gawk. Muted chandeliers cast a soft glow on the antique furnishings and reflected off the polished silverware, creating a warm and inviting ambiance, while the crystal wineglasses shone in the flickering candlelight.
So much for keeping her imagination grounded. This place was built for romance, not business, and she had no idea why Darcy had suggested it.
Feeling self-conscious and hoping it didn’t show, she allowed the maître d’ to guide her to their table. Not just any table, it happened to be the cosiest one set in the furthest corner of the room and shielded from prying eyes by an exquisite hand-painted Japanese screen.
‘Great,’ she muttered under her breath, knowing that spending an evening dining with her handsome new boss had just taken on a whole new meaning—in her own head.
To make matters worse, Darcy stood up as she neared the table and her heart did that weird, somersault thing it had when they first met at the café. It had nothing to do with his clothes; he’d gone for the conservative look once again with a dark designer suit, white shirt and striped tie. However, the man inside the clothes exuded some powerful brand of pheromones that called to her; she hadn’t experienced such a strong attraction in ages—if she was completely honest, probably never.
He pulled her seat out for her, a quaint, old-fashioned gesture that made her feel ultra-feminine. ‘You look beautiful,’ he murmured close to her ear as she sat down, raising her pulse another notch.
‘Thanks.’ To her annoyance, she felt heat creeping up her neck towards her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She never blushed, especially not when men paid her compliments.
‘So you decided to go with cocktail attire, huh?’
‘When in doubt, stick with the LBD.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘LBD?’
Was he kidding? Surely he couldn’t be that old?
Fleur grinned, a knowing smile that put her back on the front foot again and restored her confidence no end. ‘Little black dress. The essential of every female’s wardrobe.’
‘Ah,’ he said and nodded, as if he knew exactly what she was referring to, though by the confused look on his face, he had no idea.
‘I thought a man like you would be used to dining with a host of women in LBDs,’ she teased, hoping to lighten the mood.
‘No time.’ He gestured to a waiter hovering nearby and placed an order for champagne—of the French kind.
Something about his assumption that she drank expensive champagne or should be impressed by it grated on her nerves before she reminded herself of the purpose of the night. ‘Tell me about your company. I don’t even know what you import,’ she said.
‘Gift ware, mostly.’
‘There’s a huge market for that type of product. Why isn’t the company turning a profit?’
He shook his head. ‘If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t need to hire you.’
Her eyebrows shot heavenward at his bitter tone.
‘What I meant to say was my staff aren’t as productive as they once were. Everyone seems to be infected with this strange kind of lethargy and, despite our trying a few things, nothing has shaken them out of it.’
Fleur remembered the receptionist and her cavalier attitude and knew exactly what he referred to.
‘They used to have fun when they came to work but not any more.’
Suddenly, an image of Darcy’s stodgy office popped into her mind. ‘Do you have fun at work?’
He stared at her as if she’d spoken in some foreign language. ‘What do you mean?’
She sipped at her recently filled flute and savoured the tingle of bubbles sliding down her throat. ‘You know, the F word that people are scared to acknowledge at work. Is your work fun?’
‘Work is work. If I wanted to have fun, I’d employ a bunch of clowns.’
‘Well, maybe that’s what you need to do.’
He rubbed the bridge of his nose while she sipped at her champagne, as if what she’d said pained him. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
She sat up, suddenly businesslike. ‘No, but I’d like to plant some ideas in yours.’
She took a deep breath and hoped her new boss was ready to hear the truth. ‘OK, listen up. First impressions of your company are, quite frankly, that it’s tame, bland and boring. From the reception area to the furniture, I think you need a major overhaul. Urgently.’
Rather than appearing angry, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. ‘So, you think I’m boring?’
