A Bargain with the Boss (4 page)

“Sleep with me?” he said, finishing her thought.

“Well. Okay. Yes. That's what I meant.” She hadn't planned on being that blunt, but that was it.

“That's disappointing. But it's not the reason I want you in New York. And I promise, there'll be no pressure on that front.” He smoothly closed the space between them and leaned down.

She waited, her senses on alert for the kiss that seemed inevitable.

But he stopped, his lips inches away from hers, his voice a whisper. “I really like your shoes.”

She reflexively glanced to her feet, seeing the jazzy, swirling gold-and-red pattern of her high-heel pumps.

“They'll look good in New York.” He backed off, his voice returning to normal as he took his place in front of the computer screen. “Let's stay at the Neapolitan. Book us on a flight.”

Once again, she fought to regain her emotional equilibrium. She swallowed. “Do you want an airline ticket or should I book a company plane?”

“What would Dixon do?”

“Dixon never flies commercial.”

Tuck grinned. “Then, book us a company plane. If I'm going to take Dixon's place, I might as well enjoy all his perks.”

Amber wanted to ask if he considered her one of Dixon's perks. But the question was as inappropriate as it was dangerous. Her relationship with Dixon was comfortably professional. By contrast, her relationship with Tuck grew more unsettling by the day.

Three

T
uck knew he had no right to be cheerful. Dixon was still missing and Zachary Ingles was unforgivably late arriving at the JWQ Convention Center in midtown Manhattan. Add to that, thirty Tucker Transportation employees were working with the convention center staff to assemble the components of the company's pavilion, with less organization than he would have expected.

Still he couldn't help but smile as he gazed across the chaos of lights, signs, scale models and scaffolding. Amber was at the opposite end of their allotted space, watching a forklift raise the main corporate sign into position. Her brunette hair was in a jaunty ponytail. She wore pink-and-black checkerboard sneakers, a pair of dark blue jeans and a dusky-blue pullover. It was as casual as he'd ever seen her.

“Mr. Tucker?” A woman in a navy blazer with a convention center name tag on the lapel approached him through the jumble. “I'm Nancy Raines, assistant manager with catering and logistics.”

Tuck offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Nancy. Please call me Tuck.”

“Thank you, sir.” She referred to the tablet in her hand. “We have the east-side ballroom booked for Friday night, a customized appetizers and hors d'oeuvres menu with an open bar for six hundred.”

“That sounds right,” said Tuck.

He'd read through the company's final schedule on the plane and he understood the general outline of each event. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amber coming their way.

“We understand that there was a last-minute booking of a jazz trio, Three-Dimensional Moon,” said Nancy. “Are they by any chance an acoustic band?”

“An acoustic band for six hundred people?” Tuck found the question rather absurd. How would anyone ever hear the music above the conversation?

“The reason I ask,” said Nancy, “is we have no arrangement in place for a sound system.”

“There's no sound system?”

That was clearly a mistake. Aside from the music, there were three speeches on the event schedule and a ten-minute corporate video.

Amber arrived. “Can I help with something?”

“This is Nancy. She says there's no sound system for the reception.”

“There should be a sound system,” said Amber. “And three projection screens.”

But Nancy was shaking her head. “There was no tech ordered at all.”

“Someone from the marketing department should have handled that. Have you heard anything from Zachary?” Tuck asked Amber. He needed to get to the bottom of this right away.

“I've texted, emailed and left a voice mail, but he's not returning.”

Tuck withdrew his phone from his pocket. “We'll need the tech setup,” he said to Nancy. “Can you take care of it?”

She made a few taps on her tablet. “I can try. It will have to be rush, and that'll mean a significant surcharge.” She looked to Amber. “Do you have the specs?”

“I'll get them to you,” said Amber, pulling out her own phone. “I'll track someone down.”

Nancy handed her a business card. “You can send them to my email. I'll call a couple of local companies.”

“Thanks,” said Amber.

Tuck pressed the speed dial for Zachary.

Once again, it rang through to his voice mail.

“Maybe his flight was delayed,” Tuck mused.

Amber held up her index finger. “Melanie? It's Amber. We need specs for a sound system for Three-Dimensional Moon. Can you find their web page and contact their manager?” She paused. “In the next ten minutes if you can.”

Tuck checked his text messages, and then he moved to his email interface.

“I've got a new message from Zachary.” He tapped the header.

He read for a minute and felt his jaw go lax.

“What?” Amber asked.

“It's a letter of resignation.”

“No way.” She moved to where she could see his small screen.

“It says he turned in his keys to security and asked them to change his password.”

Tuck had no idea what to make of the message. Zachary had been with the company for a decade, rising through the ranks to his current, very well-paid position.

“Why would he do that?”

Excellent question.

Tuck's phone rang. He saw that it was Lucas Steele.

Tuck took the call, speaking without preamble. “Do you know what's going on?”

“Zachary walked,” said Lucas.

“I just got his email. Do you know why?”

“Harvey went with him,” said Lucas.

“Harvey, too? What on earth
happened
?” Tuck couldn't keep the astonishment from his voice. Two long-term directors had quit at the same time?

Amber's eyes widened while she listened to his side of the conversation.

“Peak Overland made them an offer,” said Lucas.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

The situation came clear in Tuck's mind. “Without Dixon, we look vulnerable.”

“Yes, we look vulnerable. Nobody knows anything concrete, so there are theories all over the place. I'm hearing everything from he's been thrown in jail in a foreign country to he was killed skydiving.”

“He's in New Orleans,” said Tuck. “Or maybe Miami.”

There was a silence.

“You don't know where he is.” Lucas's voice was flat.

“He's on vacation. He needs some time alone.”

“The divorce?” asked Lucas.

“That's my best guess.”

“Okay,” said Lucas, his tone growing crisp again. “You need me to come out there?”

“Yes. But I also need you in Chicago. And I need you in Antwerp.”

What Tuck really needed was Dixon and there was absolutely no time to waste. His next call would be to Jackson.

Lucas gave a chopped chuckle. “Where do you want me?”

“Can you hold the fort in Chicago?”

“I can.”

“Talk to security. Change the locks, change the system passwords. Make sure they can't do any damage.”

“Will do.”

“Is there an heir apparent to either Zachary or Harvey?”

“Nobody comes instantly to mind. But I'll think about it. And I'll ask around.”

“Thanks. Talk to you in a few hours.”

Tuck's lack of knowledge and experience with the family company suddenly felt like an anvil. He needed his brother more urgently than ever before.

“I'd choose Hope Quigley,” said Amber.

“Who?”

“She's a manager in the marketing department. She's been on the social media file for a couple of years, but she's incredibly organized.”

“You want me to promote a blogger to marketing director?”

Amber frowned. “It's a lot more than just blogging.”

“That's a huge jump in responsibility.”

Her hand went to her hip. “And you'd know this, how?”

Tuck did not want to have to make this decision on his own. “I'm calling Jackson. No more messing around. We're turning over every possible rock to find Dixon.”

Something shifted in Amber's expression. “You don't need Dixon back.”

What an absurd statement. “I absolutely need Dixon back.”

“You can promote Hope. And there are others who can step in.”

“The company needs a strong president. Look around you. We've got two days to pull this thing together. The reception is already in trouble, and there are thirty private meetings set up with the
marketing director
.”

“You take the meetings.”

“Yeah, right.” As if he was going to speak knowledgably about Baltic Exchange indices and intermodal freight transport.

“Take Hope with you. Give her a new title. She's got two days before the meetings. She can come up to speed on the specific client accounts.”

“I've never ever met the woman.”

“Then, take Lucas with you.”

“Lucas has to keep our current freight moving across the ocean.”

“You're right.” Amber pursed her red lips, folding her hands primly in front of her. “It's all hopeless. We should just give up and go home.”

He didn't have a comeback for her obvious sarcasm. He knew what she was doing, and he didn't appreciate it.

“Are you this insubordinate with Dixon?” How had she kept from being fired?

Tuck dialed Jackson.

“I don't need to be insubordinate with Dixon. He knows what he's doing.”

“Well, I...” But there was no retort for that. Tuck didn't know what he was doing. And that was the problem.

Jackson answered his phone. “Hi, Tuck.”

“You need to pull out the stops,” said Tuck. “Do whatever it takes.”

“But—” Amber began.

Tuck silenced her with a glare. “I just lost my marketing director and my finance director.”

“Did you fire them?” asked Jackson.

“They quit. Rumor has it they got an offer from a rival, and with Dixon out of the picture—”

“People are getting nervous.” Jackson filled in the thought.

“It seems I'm not seen as a strong leader.”

“You've barely gotten started.”

Tuck knew that was no excuse. Maybe he should have barreled past his father's objections years ago. They might have been able to stop him from having any power at Tucker Transportation. But they couldn't have stopped him from learning. This was his fault, and he had to fix it.

“Find him,” he said to Jackson.

“I'm in New Orleans.”

“Do you think he's there?”

“I don't know that he's not. There's no evidence that he left.”

“Is there evidence he arrived?”

“Maybe. It could be nothing. Can I get back to you?”

“Don't take too long.” Tuck's gaze met Amber's.

She gave a slight shake of her head.

He knew she wanted him to leave Dixon alone and do it all himself. But there was too much at stake. He didn't dare try.

* * *

Tuck looked fantastic in a tuxedo. But then Amber had known that all along. She'd been seeing pictures of him in the tabloids for years, mostly at posh events or out on the town with some gorgeous woman. His ability to work a party had never been in question.

The Tucker Transportation reception was ending, and the last few guests trickled out of the ballroom. Amber made her way to the main doors, grateful to have the evening at an end. Her feet were killing her, though that was her own fault. She'd knowingly worn two-hour shoes to a five-hour party.

But she hadn't been able to resist. This was by far the fanciest party she'd ever attended. And she'd never even taken the silver lace peep-toe pumps out of the box. They had a crimson stiletto heel and she'd done her toenails to match. Her feet looked fabulous, setting off her rather simple black dress.

The dress had cap sleeves and a slim silhouette. Its one jazzy feature was the scattering of silver sequins at the midthigh hemline. She'd worn it at least a dozen times, but it was tried and true, appropriate to the occasion.

Tuck appeared beside her, lightly touching her waist. “You promised me a dance.”

“Your dance card seemed full,” she answered him.

“Women kept asking, and I didn't want to be rude.”

Amber kept walking toward the elevator. “You forget the point of hosting such a lavish reception was for you to make business contacts, not to collect phone numbers.”

“You sound jealous.”

She wasn't jealous. She refused to be jealous. She was merely feeling critical of his wasted opportunities.

“That was a business observation, not a personal one.”

“No?” he asked.

“No.”

Though, at the moment, it felt intensely personal. His hand was still resting at her waist. The heat from his body called out to her. And his deep voice seemed to seep through to her bones.

“Dance with me now.”

She steeled herself against the attraction. “The band is packing up.”

The only music was the elevator kind emanating from the small hotel speakers on the ceiling.

“We can go somewhere else.”

“It's late. My feet are killing me. And I don't know why I'm giving you excuses. No. I don't want to go somewhere else and dance with you. I want to go to bed.”

He let a beat go by in silence. Then there was a lilt in his voice. “Okay. Sure. That works for me.”

They came to the elevators. “Tell me you didn't mean that how it sounded.”

He pressed the call button. “That depends. How did it sound?”

“You can't flirt with me, Tuck.”

“Am I doing it wrong?”

“That's not what I—”

“It was a great party, Amber. Against all odds, we got our pavilion up and running in time. The crowds have been super. And the party came off without a hitch. We even had a good sound system. Thank you for that, by the way. Can we not let our guard down and enjoy the achievement for just a few minutes?”

“I work for you.”

She needed to nip his playboy behavior in the bud. It didn't matter that he was a charming flirt. And it didn't matter that he was sharp and funny and killer handsome. This wasn't a date. It was a corporate function, and she wasn't going to let either of them forget it.

“So what?” His question seemed sincere.

“So you can't hit on me.”

“Is that a rule?”

“Yes, it's a rule. It's a law. It's called sexual harassment.”

“I'm not seriously asking you to sleep with me. I mean, I wouldn't say no to an offer, obviously. But I'm not making the suggestion myself. Except, well, you know, in the most oblique and joking way possible.”

Amber was stupefied. She had no idea what to say.

The elevator door opened, but neither of them moved.

“You're my boss,” she tried.

“Dixon is your boss.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you saying I can't even ask you on a date? That's ridiculous. People date their bosses all the time. Some of them marry their bosses, for goodness' sake.”