Page 4 of One Hot Moment

"How large is this building?" Spencer asks as we wander past various reception areas and open doorways to conference rooms. "Does the company own the whole thing?"

"No. The building is eight stories tall. Didn't you notice that when you drove into the underground parking area?"

"Someone else drove the car. I sat in the backseat, which had tinted windows. I couldn't see much."

"Oh, you poor thing. That's no way to treat an executive, especially a new one who just moved to America." I hook my arm around his bicep, and I can't help noticing how firm and strong his arm feels. "What can I do to make you feel at home here?"

"Give me an entire bottle of tranquilizers." He smirks. "That was a joke. I'll be right as rain soon enough, once I get better acquainted with my new surroundings."

"I know you will." I pull us to a halt, then point toward an open doorway that's labeled with the words Risk Analysis Team. "Here we go. You'll feel like your old self again once you meet your crew."

"Thank you, Tabitha." He straightens his jacket and smooths his hands through his hair. "Into the breach, eh?"

"Absolutely. I'll go in with you to do the introductions."

He eyes me sideways. "You're the mother hen of the company, aren't you? Everyone listens to you, I imagine."

"I'm the mother hen of your crew, not the entire company."

"Of course."

Spencer lifts his chin and marches into the large room, halting about ten feet from the threshold. "Hello, everyone!"

He smiles as all his employees turn to look at him, swiveling their chairs.

I come up beside him. "Good morning, gang. Let me introduce our new Chief Financial Risk Analyst here at Bramson Feigenbaum Investments, Spencer Halfenaked."

Though I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, expecting him to flinch at my use of his surname, he remains calm and resolute. Everyone seems a touch confused.

Spencer hooks his thumbs inside his waistband. "Don't worry, ladies and gents, I will expect you to just call me Spencer." He winks. "And I assure you that I never go half-naked at work. It's starkers or nothing."

The second the new boss grins, everyone starts laughing.

One hand rises.

Spencer nods to that person. "Did you have a question?"

"Yes. I'm Lydia McDonnell, and it's great to meet you, Spencer. But I'm wondering what 'starkers' means."

"Didn't you ever watch British TV, Lydia?" a young man in the corner shouts. "I thought everybody knew 'starkers' meant bare-chested and bare-assed."

I glance at Spencer, then point toward the man who spoke. "That's Brian Tonkin, our youngest team member. You'll get used to his frat-house humor."

"Oh, I know all about that sort of comedy," Spencer says. "I have a brother and a sister who love to harass me, not to mention shedloads of mates who have strange taste in jokes."

Another hand pops up from the peanut gallery. "Oh! Mr. Half---I mean, Spencer. Are you really British?"

The big boss chuckles. "Yes, pet, I am. Born and raised in Tottenham, a working-class neighborhood in London."

"My family is working class too. I'm Kelly Jones, by the way. I've only been here for a few months."

Spencer strides over to the girl's desk, clasps her hand, and kisses it. "What a pleasure it is to meet you, Kelly."

The girl giggles.

I can't deny I was a little skeptical of how Spencer would respond when he met his underlings. But he has stepped into the leadership role with grace and ease. Hard to believe this is the same man who was twirling his chair around and who worried about whether he could handle his new position.

A gray-haired woman rises from her desk at the front of the maze of cubicles and approaches the new guy. She thrusts a hand out to him. "Welcome to the team, Spencer. I'm Gladys Markowitz, your second in command when it comes to risk analysis. Tabitha here is the boss of me and everyone else in this room---except for you."