AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mmm-hmm.” Sunday’s murmured response conveyed disbelief.
And with good reason. Macy would never admit it to her girlfriends—she barely acknowledged the truth to herself—but she’d taken one look at Ross Nelson and lost her head like it had been lopped off by the razor-sharp blade of a guillotine. She didn’t have a granny to help refine her own instincts, but after three failed relationships, one which also cost her a job, Macy Crosswhite knew she had terrible taste in men. Didn’t matter how nice Ross Nelson was—hooking up with her guaranteed disastrous results.
2
“What the fu—dge?”
Ross Nelson bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Macy launched out of her chair as if riding the head of a rocket and paced Beauregard Blanchet’s office in agitated circles.
“You hired a temp to replace Erika. Why?” She smacked her hands on the edge of their boss’s glass-and-chrome desk and leaned in aggressively.
“Calm yourself,ma chérie, and put on your listening ears.” Despite his name and French affectation, Beau was a second-generation Irishman from Boston. Sixty if he was a day, his mannerisms, wardrobe, and flamboyant lifestyle were modeled after his personal hero, Liberace.
It only took one meeting for Ross to see through the rhinestone veneer to Beau’s business brilliance in organizing and marketing meetings, events, and corporate affairs, acumen that brought in seven figures a year and made BonTemps one of the most successful event management companies in a city infamous for over the top, cutting edge entertainment. Fresh out of grad school with a master’s in psychology, Ross still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life, but he liked people and had a knack for putting together successful events. That probably had something to do with the fact that he was well-connected, thanks to the hundreds of Nelson family aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews who lived and worked within a fifty-mile radius of NYC.
“You never fill senior positions from outside.” She threw up her hands. “‘Promote from within.’ That’s been your policy since I started, and one of the reasons I’ve stuck around waiting for an opportunity to advance.”
“Merde!Ne sois pas ridicule.” Beau flicked non-existent fluff off the shoulder of his lilac velvet jacket, subtly leveraging his dominance. “Your selective hearing is at work again. What I said is I’ve brought in a temp to oversee the projects Erika finalized. They require execution, nothing more. Dallas Kenner worked in the events department at the Guggenheim for thirty years before he retired. I had to promise him two weeks at my cottage on Fire Island so he’d agree to help out. There’s no way I’m moving anyone into Erika’s position until I have her resignation letter in hand, and we get through the holidays.Es-tu fou? You’re crazy if you think I’m making a major change like that when the next three months are already chaotic.”
“But—” Macy planted her hands on those round, plush hips he adored, giving him an instant hard-on.
Yes, Ross wasfou—crazed, mad, insane—for a woman who refused to admit the attraction was mutual. She did a stellar job pretending, but he was on to her. He’d registered the way her breathing sped up when he stood a little too close, and the way her pupils dilated when she caught him caressing her curves with an appreciative gaze, and the careful way she avoided touching him when he handed her an object because the one time their fingers accidently brushed, a vivid red flush crept up from the neckline of her blouse to the roots of her silky brown hair.
Macy Crosswhite wanted him, but she was locked down tighter than the display cases at Tiffany’s.
Good thing he was a patient man because the opportunity to convince her they were perfect for each other had just landed in his lap. He tapped a finger on the file folder across his knees that matched the duplicate in front of Macy.
“Why not let me pick up Erika’s events? Let me prove I can handle the pressure.” She dropped back into the leather chair across from Beau as if all the wind had pumped out of her. “I’ve never let you down. Not once in four years.”
“You aretrès merveilleux,” Beau said in a placating tone. “However, there are qualities beyond dedication and efficiency required to serve as a senior event manager.”
Her eyes narrowed, shooting amethyst sparks. “Such as?”
“You, uh, have a small issue with—” Beau’s gaze shifted left.
“Collaboration?” Ross suggested.
“I’m a team player,” she objected, hands clenched around the arms of her chair.
“No, you aren’t, Macy.” Ross smiled kindly, hoping it softened the candor of his denial.
“Well put.” Beau cocked a finger at the folders. “I have two well-qualified candidates and one vacancy. This challenge will help me decide who is worthy of the promotion.”
“You expect us to compete against each other?” She ignored the folder, crossing her arms and plumping her breasts so they almost overflowed the neckline of the tight black sweater she wore.
“Tu es difficile!” Beau’s aggrieved sigh stretched the buttonholes on the crisp white shirt covering his barrel chest.
Ross flipped the file open and scanned the document a second time.
Macy huffed impatiently.
“Let me see if I understand.” Ross teased her with another grin. “We have one week tocollaborateon a Halloween party. Criteria to determine success includes total cost, number of attendees, and originality. We’re also required to summarize the other’s performance, evaluating cooperation and teamwork.”
“Ridiculous.” Macy muttered under her breath, but Beau’s furrowed brows left no doubt he heard her.
“Your choice,ma chérie.Accept the assignment or resign yourself to remaining a junior event manager.”
“Come on,” Ross urged. “It will be fun. You’re a whiz at this stuff. Don’t you ever get tired of another tea party, another fundraiser, another banquet, another award ceremony? We can get creative with this.”
