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I started to rise when a hand on my shoulder stilled my movement.
“Mr. Martin. If you don’t mind, I would like to start with you, since you are still here. Is that fine with you, Francine?” Start with me about what? Crap. He probably spoke ad nauseum on the topic while I was zoned out. I needed to get a grip and fast.
“Absolutely, Mr. Dahl. If I were to pick one of our best new recruits, he’d make the short list, his out-of-character tardiness notwithstanding.” She made her way out the door, closing it behind her. We were alone. This is what I had been wanting for so long, but now that I was here and there was a baby on the way, the conversations I ran through my head no longer fit. So much for mapping out things.
“Porter, what are you really doing here?” So much for looking professional. Now that I was starting to adjust to the notion that I had found him, I needed to know all the answers. I didn’t even know all the questions yet, but the answers were like the air that I breathed, a necessity for life.
“Did you listen to my speech at all?” He sat across from me, shaking his head slightly. Was he amused by my pathetic listening skills, or was that pride that he stole my brain? At least it wasn’t anger. I couldn’t take anger. Not now. Not when we had who knew how long together before he needed to leave and go who knew where.
“I tried,” I confessed.
“So that’s a no?” Oh yeah, he was amused. There were worse things.
“That’s an I was in shock to see you.” Shocked, excited, terrified, amazed, grateful. The words to describe my feelings were as varied as they were plentiful.
“Did you think you could work here and not run into me?”
“I thought…you owned your own business…I didn’t know you worked at Dahl Tech.” Had he lied to me? It was a one-night stand, so deceit was probably the norm, but I thought we had a real connection, and the idea he might’ve been deceptive to get into my pants had an uneasy feeling settling into my gut.
“I think we need to start at the beginning.” He stood, walked around the table, and offered me his hand in a formal manner. “I’m Montgomery Dahl, and you are?”
“Herbert Michael Martin,” I squeaked out as he took my hand, squeezing it instead of pumping it in a handshake.
“And you go by Michael because…?” His thumb swiped across the back of my hand sending messages to the rest of my body. Crap on a cracker. He was my boss. He was my freaking boss. Sure, he had offered me a job that night, but hormones were flailing, and he was mostly joking, or so I thought, or at least rationalized at the time. But now, now I was working for him. And from the looks of it, he was as out of the loop about it as I was.
“Herbert. My name is Herbert, and you have to ask?” I teased, glad he still held my hand as he sat beside me. “Is Porter your middle name, too?”
“No. Betsy gave me the nickname.”
“You look like a Porter,” I offered. He was hot enough to pull off a Montgomery, but changing it would’ve been my first choice, too, especially as a child. Heck, I still hated Herbert, and, in theory, it was a name you grew into. I still call lie on that one.
“And you look remarkably like the man who ran out on me without a word.” And there was the hint of anger I’d been expecting. Well-deserved anger, at that.
Chapter Fourteen
Porter
What was it about this man that made me lose my cool? I put on my boss face. “Anyway, Mr. Martin, why don’t you come with me, and we can get started?”
The idea to meet with all the new hires had been a spur-of-the-moment inspiration. I needed to capture Michael’s attention, and if I wasn’t singling him out, how could he argue? The downside was that I would have to have one on ones with at least six other new employees, but really, that wasn’t that big of a downside. The reason I didn’t make an effort to get to know most people until they’d been with the company for six months was that we saw the highest turnover in that time span. It was all about the value of the investment.
Getting one conversation with Michael’s undivided attention was completely worth adding the other six.
I didn’t have to turn around to know he was following me. Besides the quiet thump of his shoes, that was the kind of person Michael was, by his own admission. He stuck to the rules; he followed the plan; he rarely stepped outside his expectations. But when he did...
I had to stop thinking about those kinds of things while wearing a suit. Someone might think I was hosting the Russian circus in my pants.
I sent a notification for the valet to bring my car around as Michael and I entered the elevator. We were alone.
“Are we going to your office?” Michael asked.
“No.”
He fidgeted a moment before asking, “Are we going to a conference room?”
“No.” I was enjoying his discomfort. That was unkind of me, wasn’t it? But I’d been off balance and uncomfortable for over two months because of him. He could handle the next ten minutes.
“Do you want to tell me where we’re going?” His voice was breathy with exasperation.
