Page 3 of Grumpy Boss's Secret

I'd been pacing there for fifteen minutes already. It didn't matter – I still had another fifteen until I was expected. It did matter a little because the longer I paced, the more walking inside felt like a big deal. I gulped down the last few inches of my lavender latte and tossed the cup into a nearby trashcan.

"The sooner I go in there, the sooner my questions are answered," I murmured. "It's only the first day today. Tomorrow I'll have my hands on the reins."

I walked briskly to the front doors. I could see my reflection on the glass walls of the lower floor. My short brown hair was blowing crazily around in the wind, and the sides of my red raincoat were flapping. I would need to stop in a downstairs bathroom to comb my hair. I wanted to emulate Albert Einstein in many ways, not his hair.

I pulled open the door and stepped inside. I felt as though I’d just walked inside a glass city. The sounds of the street – the whooshing wind, the honking of cars, the beeping of crosswalk lights – were suddenly muted. I was greeted by the crisp, muffled sounds of people talking in polite voices, the elevators dinging, and a jazz melody purring through unseen loudspeakers. The building smelled of lemongrass and new furniture.

After combing my hair down with my fingers, I checked in at the front desk and then located a women's restroom on the ground floor.

"Whoo," I said out loud when I caught sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Good thing I stopped there. Imitating a porcupine was not on my agenda for today. I hadn't been prepared for these winds. Tomorrow I will have to wear a hat.

I combed my hair, tucking it behind my ears. It behaved obediently – except for one stray wisp determined to jut out to the side. I tried to bend its will to mine with some water, but it was too feisty.

I glanced at my watch. Seven minutes. I should get upstairs. I wanted to be early. I stepped back from the mirror, smoothing my hands down my waist and hips and inspecting my outfit. I was wearing red glass stud earrings, but otherwise, I had decided to play it safe in grey. Grey slacks and a grey blazer over a white blouse.

“I look like my apartment,” I grumbled under my breath.

I shook myself. Time to go upstairs. I took the elevator up to the seventy-fifth floor. It was a long wait. The slow flute music playing in the elevator was in ironic contrast to my jangled nerves. It was Ian Huntington, I realized just before the doors opened. For some weird reason, I was beyond nervous about meeting Ian Huntington.

The doors opened, and there he was. I blinked. He stood before the receptionist's desk, wearing a navy blue suit and leaning forward a little as he spoke to the woman behind the desk. Why did he have to be built like a Marine? It made him so much more intimidating. And hot. Really, really hot. Why did he have to be so hot?

He glanced in my direction, looking at me with two piercing blue eyes. He didn't smile, but his eyes were like two beams of light, boring into me in seconds. Sizing me up. Analyzing me. Spurred into motion, I stepped out of the elevator. I strode across the room, keeping my body language confident and relaxed.

“Hi,” I said, holding out my hand to him. “I’m Jozi Freiding, the new publicist.”

“I know,” he said, taking my hand. His grip was firm, and his hands were cold. I felt a weird thrill ripple through me when he touched me. This man could throw me across the room if he wanted to.

“You recognize me?” I asked. He hadn’t hired me. Someone else had hired me. He’d just approved my resume and the notes from my interview, none of which had included a picture of my face.

"No," he said coolly, "I know Jozi Freiding is my new publicist."

I offered a plastic smile. “Oh,” I said. “Well, nice to meet you, Ian.”

"You can call me Mr. Huntington," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. He spoke to me in a flat tone. Did he mean to come off as irritated, almost hostile? Or was he always like this?

"I can show you to your office, Ms. Freiding," said the receptionist behind her desk. I turned to her gratefully. She was a middle-aged woman, wearing a white tweed dress, matching jacket, and big round pink earrings. I liked her immediately.

“Do that, Janet,” Ian said. “I’ll see you at the meeting at 11:00, Ms. Freiding.”

"You can call me Jozi," I said to be antagonistic. The man had already gotten on my nerves.

"Ms Freiding," he said, nodding at me, and continued down the hall.

I bristled with irritation internally, but that didn't stop me from watching him walk down the hallway for a second. He moved like a cat - sensuously. Slowly, but still hyper-alert. Damn.

"You'll get used to him," said Janet in a sweet, sing-song voice. She needed to be younger to be my grandmother, but I felt sure she was somebody's grandmother. She had that persona on lock.

I turned to her, smiling. “I guess I’ll get used to everything soon enough,” I said.

She patted my hand. “I hear you moved here from Vermont. That’s a long way.” She stepped out from behind her desk. “Does it rain there as much as it does here?”

I smiled and kept stepping with her as she walked down the hallway. "I don't think so," I said, "although I haven't been here long enough to know for sure."

“You know what I recommend?” she said.

“What?” I said.

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