“I love that.” She looked at the cage again, rapidly blinking. “We should get another Plucky.”
He nodded, unable to do much else. These rare moments where she exposed her tender underbelly were enough to punch the wind from his lungs.
A sigh, and she brushed her hands together. “Ready to hear my ideas?”
Chapter Five
A few hours later, Rebecca was amped to start the changes. They’d brought down the birdcage, sections of cubicles, a podium desk, two bookshelves, and very precariously, the glass display cabinet. Her body was protesting the physical activity, causing her neck and shoulders to become more than her typical achy. While Graham had been distracted with cleaning the podium, she’d popped a couple over the counter pain relievers and did a quick stretch. She’d take a hot bath tonight.
The amp in stiffness was worth it. Not only had Graham been good with all of her ideas, but he’d given her high praise every chance he could.
For years, she’d gone to work at the Boston paper, at a tiny corner station, doing little more than taking up space. Half the journalists thought she’d been an assistant and had asked her to fetch coffee if she hadn’t been at her desk. No name for herself. No one who’d considered her story ideas. No one who’d given her a chance.
Thirty minutes in Graham’s office, while applying for a job, any job, and he’d not only listened to her suggestions, but had blindly allowed them. It seemed like he’d simply needed fresh concepts and a set of eyes to get out of his rut. His success in revamping the Gazette would be hers, too.
He glanced around at the furniture they’d brought down from the storeroom. “Where do we start?”
Bless the man, he could take direction.
“Let’s get the reporter sections up first. We’ll know how much room we’ll have to work with once that’s done.”
“You got it.”
Together, they moved stuff out of the way. The plan had been to set up two desks along the glass wall to Graham’s office, one on each side, facing front, and separate them from the rest of the newsroom with the four-foot cubicle sections. A desk for her, and one for Joan and Jefferson to share if they ever came into the office, which wouldn’t be often if they were switching to consignment.
After playing around with design, they opted for a bookshelf along the brick wall per each cubicle flanking Graham’s office door, a desk beside them. That way the reporters had a place to put materials. While she moved Joan and Jefferson’s things from their old desks to their bookshelf, Graham attached their nameplates to the outer corner of their cubicle wall.
“I’ll get a nameplate made up for you tomorrow.”
“I have one, but thank you.” She hauled a computer monitor from Joan’s old desk to the new one. “I’ll bring my things in the morning.”
“Okay. I’ll get you a key, too.” Following her lead, he began connecting the tower cables to complete their setup. “You’ve got a laptop, but we’ll put Jefferson’s computer on your side so you can work from that while here. We’ll move files and programs tomorrow.”
Fine by her. She rolled her head to stretch her neck. Damn, but she hurt.
“You okay?”
She hadn’t realized he’d been watching her. Though her condition wasn’t serious, he should probably know about it as her boss. She wasn’t ready to get into it, though.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
While he was preoccupied setting up, she tried to formulate a plan for their next step, but wound up pausing on him to admire the view. He was good-looking, for sure. He’d shed his suitcoat and tie when they’d begun moving furniture, and had rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Great arms. All sinew and coiled tendons. Veins. Tanned, olive-colored skin. Huge hands. She’d bet her right leg he knew how to use those hands. Since he was hunched under the desk, the dark gray suit pants were stretched taut over his very nice backside. Lean waist. Wide shoulders.
Quit, girl. Now.
Suppressing a sigh, she fanned her face, suddenly hot. And not from her fibromyalgia. Attraction shifted as if by warning in her belly. Not good. He was her new boss and next door neighbor. If there was ever a need for caution, this was it.
She’d not had a very good impression of him after their first couple of encounters, but she was warming up to him. After all, he’d apologized and had not only given her a job, but had been open to suggestions for change. It took a man comfortable in his own skin to do both. He had yet to call the Boss Card or make her feel like a subordinate. He didn’t throw his power around, either.
Didn’t mean she should ogle him like candy.
“What do you think?”
She shook her head to clear it. She hadn’t realized he’d finished hooking up the computer, or that he’d been talking.
“I was lost in thought.” Or naughty daydreams. “Sorry. Could you repeat?”
He flashed a grin, darn him. “I do that, too. Go off in my head. Must be a writer thing.”