Page 33 of Irresistible Temptation
“I don’t have much kindness in my heart, Nina. But every once in a while it shows itself, and it just so happened to be with this merger.”
“I appreciate the authenticity,” said Nina, a smile I could hear through the other end of the phone. She got the interview she wanted, and I got the press I wanted. Win-win.
“I’m due in another meeting, but I appreciate you taking the time.”
“The pleasure was mine, Mr. Brandfield.”
I heard the click on the other line and let out a sigh, knowing that was over. I sunk back in my chair and looked toward Juliet’s office. She seemed to have gotten the furniture in the flow she wanted and was now sitting at her desk, typing diligently on her computer. Her bottom lip was tucked into her top teeth in deep concentration.
Don’t get distracted.
It was what I continued telling myself the rest of the morning as I pushed on with various calls and paperwork. It was onlythe second day of taking over a new company, but it may as well have been a lifetime with how much had happened since yesterday morning.
By lunchtime, my head was spinning, and Juliet was trying her best to keep it screwed on from where she sat in her office. We both deserved a break. I picked up my phone and dialed her extension.
She picked up, but didn’t say anything, just looked at me expectantly from across the hall.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Starved,” she replied.
“How do you feel about Italian?”
“Fettuccine alfredo, please.”
I smiled. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and I appreciated that. I hung up before dialing the nearby small Italian joint that was highly underrated. I ordered us fettuccine alfredo, spaghetti Bolognese, two Caesar salads, and dessert, because… why not?
Thirty minutes later, I sent Juliet to go pick it up just around the corner. When she returned carrying a large paper bag, she stepped hesitantly into my office, just as she had the first time. She set the bag on an empty spot of my desk and began goingthrough it. She dug out her box of pasta and a smaller box with her salad, handing me my pasta in a large black box, along with a smaller box with the salad. As she was about to leave, I stopped her.
“Why don’t you stay?” I asked.
She raised an unsure brow.
“Get to know each other more.”
Her brow raised even further, suggesting we had gotten to know each other pretty well last night.
“Professionally,” I added.
She nodded, and guided herself into the chair behind her. We began eating, silence between us aside from the slurp of noodles and crunch of romaine lettuce.
“So, what did you do before this?” I asked, swallowing down a bite of salad with the Diet Coke she had brought back.
“I was at another non-profit. Much smaller than this one,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
“Accounting?”
“Mhmm.”
“Is that what you went to school for?”
“Originally, no. I thought I was going to go into forensic science.” She laughed at the memory, as if it were preposterous.
“Like the kind they talk abouts in crime podcasts?” I asked in surprise, trying to imagine it.
“Exactly. Turns out, I’m rather squeamish…” She shook her head.
I chuckled. “So, accounting it was.”
