“Don’t even look at them in the eye,” she would order me before a meeting.
As if.
It didn’t matter to me if you were rich—I was going to be my friendly self. I lived my life by Disney World principles: Make everyone feel welcome. If I ever had a family with lots of kids, mine was going to be the house that everyone wanted to hang out at.
I greeted the guests with a smile and a compliment no matter who they were.
“Welcome to Richmond Electric, everyone.” I greeted the guests with a smile when Grayson Richmond escorted them in.
He was speaking to the CEO of Svensson PharmaTech, who was nodding along. So it wasn’t like I was interrupting a big speech. Still, it earned me a dark look from my boss.
“Snacks!” one of the women exclaimed when she saw the pretzel spread.
“Just something to keep everyone’s blood sugar up. We have coffee, green tea lattes, chai tea lattes, and herbal tea for people who aren’t coffee drinkers.”
The tendon in Mr. Richmond’s neck was going to jump out and hit the wall as I poured out the frothy drinks for everyone.
“Thank god someone has some sense in this city,” Garrett Svensson said in a clipped tone, grabbing two of the iced coffees from the tray.
“You can have all of them,” Mace Svensson told him with a frown.
Could I be snarky and tell Garrett Svensson that Grayson Richmond wanted me to throw out his precious coffee?
Yes, yes, I could.
But that would not be professional. So I settled for flashing an extra-bright smile at Mr. Richmond.
McKenna was settling in at the back of the room to take notes while I passed out the meeting packets, notepads, and extra pens. I’d even provided a little map to let people know where the restrooms were or where they could step out to take a call if they really needed to.
Who’s the best assistant in town now?
“Don’t leave me,” McKenna muttered when I was heading to the door. I took a seat beside her.
Mr. Richmond wasn’t looking at me, but I could feel him seething from across the room.
He’s just mad he didn’t think of the pretzels himself.
As someone who majored in communication and wrote her thesis on how to be authoritative without being a meanie, Mr. Richmond was, I hated to admit, a good presenter.
He didn’t stumble around the presentation, nor did he sound too rehearsed. He spoke like he knew the material with the same surety as I could sing the Happy Birthday song.
His tone wasn’t condescending, and he even peppered in a few choice jokes. When the Svensson PharmaTech representatives interrupted to ask a question, he was ableto answer and smoothly incorporate the point into the presentation. Mr. Richmond seemed at ease but still in control.
I was mesmerized, watching the flawless performance, and the flawless man, who was wearing a charcoal wool suit that I recognized as one I’d just taken back to its home in his absurdly spacious master closet.
It wasn’t just the height, the broad shoulders, and the muscular body under that suit—he had what my great-aunt had always called good Irish features. Chiseled face, straight nose, sensual mouth, and then those eyes. It wasn’t fair. Green eyes like that were wasted on a man.
I have red hair; those eyes should be mine.
Green eyes locked on mine.
In the middle of his perfect presentation, Grayson Richmond faltered.
10
GRAYSON
People don’t usually like to make eye contact with me, or if they do, then it’s because they’re trying to do that weird make-friends-and-influence-people bullshit.
