Just this weekendhe’d called megreen. And tried todictate my style by telling me which colors to avoidin an email for the love of all things holy. The man wasn’t capableof letting me do my thing without dipping his fingers into every single thing.
So maybe this wassomething else? Maybe he was picking on me or punishing me for daring to standup to him Friday night. Maybe he was just trying to make my life complicated.
Because he wasdoing that. He was so doing that.
There had been anemail from him in my inbox this morning, but I hadn’t had a chance to read it.Or there was a possibility I hadn’t read it out of spite. Now I wished I hadn’tleft my cell phone at my desk.
Besides, STS wasmost known for their stellar design team. We rocked the local area with ourlogos, graphics and print ads. I was doing my best to help with social mediastrategy, but STS as a whole wasn’t as savvy when it came to competing on thedifferent social outlets and what worked. I was fighting an uphill battle,although if Ezra really wanted those things at least he’d picked the rightperson.
But commercials?Maybe he hadn’t done his research after all.
While we offered a mediapackage, it was nothing to boast about. We charged an exorbitant amount ofmoney, but in my honest opinion, couldn’t deliver the quality and finesse Ezrawould be looking for.
Mr. Tuckercongratulated Ezra on having good taste and then launched into aschmoozy-pitch about how much more we could offer him. Izoned out in favor of staring a hole into the side of Ezra’s head.
He glanced at me,doing a double-take when he caught me staring. With a second turn of his head, thecorner of his mouth kicked up in a half smile and he cut Mr. Tucker off mid-sentenceto say, “I trust you, Molly.”
My heart skipped,or rather, tripped over itself at those precious few words that meant more tome than I wanted them to.He trusted me?Why?I hadn’t done anything worthy of gaining his trust. I hadn’t evenearned the trust of my bosses yet. Or coworkers. Or parents!
I opened my mouthto argue with him when the office door creaked open and Henry Tucker walked inuninvited. If I hadn’t understood that there was nothing in my power to get ridof Ezra, I would have screamed with frustration. Not only was Henry beingincredibly rude and intrusive, he was jeopardizing my standing with a potentialclient. Henry had no idea I had history with Ezra. He had no idea what he waswalking in on.
“Henry,my boy!”Mr. Tuckergrinnedthat cat eatingthe canary smile. “I’m so glad you stopped by. This is Ezra Baptiste, head ofEFB Enterprises. He’s interested in a full workup. With Molly of all people.”
Henry stepped upbehind me, dropping his hand to rest on my shoulder. I felt his body heatthrough my blazer, too warm, too slippery, too wrong. I wanted to cringe and Iwanted to shake him off, but most of all I wanted to die from embarrassmentbecause Ezra’s shrewd, always alert gaze dropped right to where Henry’s hand hadcovered my collarbone.
“Of course he is,”Henry said through a stretching smile. He squeezed my shoulder and I wanted tostop, drop and roll the hell out of here. “She’s our very best.”
Lie.
I wasn’t the verybest. I wasn’t even close to it. His hand stayed perched on my shoulder longerand longer, elongating the awkwardness until the hairs on my neck stood up. Itwas all I could do not to wince. His fingers pressed below my collar bone toofamiliarly and then his thumb, his unwelcomed, uninvited thumb drew a slow pathalong the nape of my neck where it buried itself in my hair. A sickly feelingslithered beneath my skin while my brain tried to convince my instinct thatthis was an accident or that Henry was overly touchy but not threatening. Andthat’s when my body decided to ignore them both by making a complete fool outof myself.
Dropping myshoulder and sliding out of my chair, I practically jumped to standingstartling half the room. Without having a game plan I thrust out my hand toEzra. “I’m looking forward to working with you,” I heard myself say.
Damn it!That was not at all what I meant to do. My flight reactiongot in the way of common sense.
Ezra blinked up atme, clearly not expecting me to walk into this arrangement so easily. Heglanced back at Junior before he stood to his full height, crowding me, toweringover me, eating up every inch of space that his tall frame needed and thensome. His hand wrapped around mine, warm and firm and dry—such a contrast tothe hand I’d just run away from. “As am I,” he said coolly.
Mr. Tucker slammedhis hands on the desk excitedly, no doubt already preparing Ezra’s invoice. Hestarted to say something congratulatory but all I wanted to do was get out ofthis office.
“I can take you toour conference room,” I blurted to Ezra, my hand still wrapped in his. “We cango over details while you acquaint me with your company and give me a bettervision of what you’re hoping to accomplish with STS.” I let out a slow, steadybreath, hoping the beads of sweat along my hairline weren’t obvious.
“That’s a greatidea,” Ezra replied. “Lead the way, Miss Maverick.”
I turned and smiledbravely at Mr. Tucker without meeting his eyes and shot another nod ofconfidence somewhere in the vicinity of Junior’s feet. Then I escaped quicklyto a conference room, Ezra close on my heels.
Pushing the dooropen with one arm, I gestured for Ezra to enter. “Right in here.” I followedafter him just as soon as I’d glanced back to make sure Senior and Juniorhadn’t bothered to follow me.
“I had beenprepared to negotiate,” Ezra began talking. “I should probably apologize…”
Nervous energybuzzed through me, but I blamed it on Ezra’s sudden appearance. Although Icould still feel the phantom brushing of Henry’s thumb over my neck. I shuddered,wishing I could erase the memory altogether as I walked to the wall of windowsin the conference room.
I should saysomething to Henry, I decided. That was too much. Too intimate. And on top ofevery terrible thing, super inappropriate. He was my boss and in general hegave me the creeps.If he gets closeagain, I’ll say something. I’ll ask him to stop. He’ll listen. He’s aprofessional. I’m a professional. It will be fine.
“Molly?”
Ezra stood up andwalked over to me. Belatedly, I realized I had been staring out the window atdowntown Durham, completely lost in thought and he’d been talking since thedoor closed behind us. Actually, now that I thought about it, I thought maybehe’d been apologizing, but I hadn’t heard a single word of it.
“Sorry,” I told him,reverting to my familiar tactic of always being the one that had to make theother person comfortable. “It’s been a weird day.”
