Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) (8 page)

With an irritated sigh at himself, he sat down and opened his laptop to go through the morning email before he packed up his things. Nobody would be upstairs yet, anyway, and he’d want to tell Rita personally how much he’d appreciated her time and space.

“Welcome back,” April said, walking past him to her desk.

His pulse kicked up.
 
He sat up taller, sucking in his gut.

Oh, man
. Still had a thing for her, it seemed. He’d thought it would’ve faded by now. Unable to resist, he turned to look at her. She wore all black, which was corporate enough, but the pants were tight and stretchy, like a yoga instructor’s, and her shirt was sleeveless. Her hair seemed about four inches shorter, maybe more, yet somehow covered more of her face. It was as if the hair in the back had rotated to the front.

“Morning,” he said. “Haircut?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Scowling, she plopped down in her chair and hit the power button on her computer. “I look like a stuffed animal.”

He scanned the email in his inbox for a few seconds, deleting as many as possible and sorting the others into their action categories before asking, “Which one?”

“What?” She frowned at him from under her bangs. Her lipstick was red today, red and shiny, and it made her lips look full, ripe, and wet.

The room was too warm. California was too warm. He swallowed. “What kind of animal?”

“Hell if I know. Something too damn fluffy.” She batted at the brown, bouncy curls on her head.

He wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Most women seemed to have straight hair these days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman their age (he’d enthusiastically accepted they shared the same general one) with short, curly hair.

Realizing he’d been staring, he said, “You could wear a hat.”

Her scowl deepened. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Sorry,” he said, turning back to his laptop. He wasn’t trying to seduce her, but he could’ve managed something more tactful. The problem was, he was fighting the urge to say
I like it. It makes me want to touch you
, which would’ve been all wrong for several reasons. “Speaking of your hair, I’ll be getting out of it today.”

“Oh,” she said. “You are?”

Did he imagine the disappointment in her voice? “I figured you’d be glad.”

“Nope. It’s been a great way for me as the new chick to make friends with people.” She grinned. “They all want to know about you.”

“Then why do they look so unhappy to see me?”

“They’re afraid of losing their jobs,” she said.

“Tell them I’m not a hatchet man. That’s not what I do.”

She studied him. “Honestly?”

“The last company I worked for didn’t fire a single person after I made my recommendations.”

“Yeah, but what were those
recommendations
?” She said it as if it were a disease.

He turned back to his laptop. “I didn’t tell them to lay anyone off. Quite the opposite.” Squinting at his screen, he dragged a few emails into his spam folder. “But, as it happens, they didn’t agree with my assessment to cut the boss’s salary and hire more entry-level admin.”

With a laugh, she brushed the hair out of her eyes. “You said that?”

“The organization was as top-heavy as a three-scoop ice cream cone.” He’d come up with that metaphor when he’d written the report. They seemed to have enjoyed it less than he had.

“You don’t think that’s good?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” He rotated in his chair, tugging both lapels of his jacket. “Is it my fancy suit?”

“Maybe.”

“Two hundred bucks,” he said. “Season clearance.”

“That’s still more than I spend on my outfits,” she said.

“But I get to wear this almost every day,” he said. “The average woman’s wardrobe has very poor value if you factor in all the costs. I did a report—” He cut himself off. What was he doing? Bragging about how much he enjoyed writing financial reports? That one hadn’t even been for school. He’d done it for
fun
. Instead of, as a normal guy might do, watching football or having sex with pretty girls.

Like her.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway…” His mind blanked. What had they been talking about? His suit. Ice cream. Women. “I should get back to work.”

“By the way, which department will you be in this week?” she asked. “The assistant designers will ask me at lunch. If I keep feeding them secrets about you, maybe one of them will invite me to her birthday party.”

The deadpan tone in her voice made him smile. “Do you
want
them to invite you?”

“I do love pony rides,” she said with a wink. Then, flushing, she rotated away from him. “You’re not the only one who should get back to work.”

He stared for a moment at her back, encased in that black tank top. “I’ll be in the Men’s department this week,” he said.

She nodded but didn’t turn around. The software, which he’d learned was where they inputted their colors for the artwork they needed for different lines, appeared on her screen. “I haven’t met the Men’s designer yet,” she said. “Darrin. I think I saw him last week at the coffee truck, though. He didn’t look as scary as the stories about him.”

“Scary?” he asked.

“Is that why you’re doing his department while he’s in New York?” she asked. “To avoid him?”

His stomach fell. “Darrin is in New York today?”

“All week.”

He shifted gears. “Then I’ll go to Women’s. It’s higher profile, and—”

“The Women’s designers are in New York, too. That’s why the vibe is so relaxed around here today.”

“Right after Thanksgiving?”

“I know. I think they’re just expensing their family vacations, but Jennifer and Darrin always get away with murder.” She spun around and pointed at him. “Don’t quote me on that. I’m new. They’re wonderful. Creative geniuses. Quote me on
that
.”

He pulled up his calendar on his phone, cursing himself for being so caught up in family—his dead wife’s family—drama, he’d neglected some basic planning legwork. “When will they be back, do you know?”

“Next Monday.”

“Damn it,” he muttered.

“You could invade the trim office,” she said. “Without zippers, there would be no Fite TrakrJak. That’s the big silhouette this year, I found out. I’m working on the screen print for that sucker right now.” She pointed at her screen. “Really going out on a limb, too.
Fite
in big letters. I’m a genius.”

Me, too
, he thought.
A goddamn genius
. “Guess I’ll sit here another week, then.” His voice was grim, but his body warmed at the thought.

Chapter 7

W
HILE
SHE
WORKED
ON
THE
third Fite logo color revision of her morning, April felt Zack sitting behind her at his desk, tapping away at his laptop.

She glanced over her shoulder. Was it possible the consultant had the hots for her? Or was she doing some terrible freelancer thing that was going to end up in his report? Something was going on inside that handsome head of his, she wasn’t sure what.

She transformed the three-inch letter F on her screen to neon green. It would be easier to ignore the tempting idea of repressed sexuality coming at her across the beige commercial carpeting if her work were more interesting. Next week, Rita had promised, she’d start training her on FreePeat, the textile design software, but for now April was stuck with reworking block letters in solid colors.

Zack sneezed.

“Bless you,” April said, making the T a lovely shade of blinding yellow.

He sneezed again. “Sorry,” he said, sniffling.

She turned. “I hate flying. I always catch something.”

“No,” he said, looking up and meeting her gaze. “It’s just allergies. This building’s a little dusty.”

Rita popped her head around the wall. “Oh, please tell them that. Please? I’ve been begging to get an air filter in here.” Rita’s nerves around the consultant had calmed down as soon as he’d assured her, right before the holiday weekend, that the art department’s accomplishments were impressive given its limited resources.

“To whom do you direct your begging?” he asked.

“Harry Charron,” Rita said. “The facilities manager.”

When Zack opened his small leather notebook in his palm and made a note, Rita flashed April a thumbs-up.

“Say, Zack,” Rita said, smiling. “It’s quiet around here today. What do you say we all go out to lunch together? Since you’re done with us as targ—I mean, subjects—it might be nice for you to, you know, just relax.”

“Lunch?” he asked. The look he gave April made her flush.
 

This was crazy. She was imagining things. He ran that probing look over everything, even the department water dispenser. “I’m sorry,” April said, “but I have to get back to Oakland. I’m only here in the mornings this week.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Rita said. “I certainly wouldn’t want to steal the bosses’ babysitter.”

After an awkward pause, Rita flinched and covered her mouth with her hand. Until now, they’d managed to avoid any references to April’s family connection. Johnson was such a common name, and April so new, with a low profile, it hadn’t come up.

“Babysitter?” Zack asked.

“I’m—shit,” April explained.

Rita took an interest in the carpeting, as if searching for dust mites.

Well, it hadn’t been Rita’s idea to hire the owners’ sister, and it was bound to come up sooner rather than later.

April put her hands on her hips, glad she’d worn Fite Fitness today, which should make her seem like a serious employee, a committed corporate worker bee, an ideal member of the team.

“I watch Merry in the afternoons,” April told him. “Didn’t I mention that earlier? That I’m only part-time?”

There. The truth, but kind of sneaky-like.

Zack frowned. “Merry?”

“Merry Johnson.” Heart pounding, April sat in her chair and reached for her herbal tea. She didn’t want him to know she was just a family hire. He wouldn’t look at her the same way again.

Whatever way
that
was…

“My niece,” she said finally. “You know, the baby?”

“Johnson,” he said. His eyes widened as he figured it out. “You’re Liam’s sister.”

She decided against faking too much innocence. He’d probably see right through it. “Yes,” she said, and left it at that.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. April glanced at Rita, who mouthed
sorry
.

April waved it away with a smile and turned to her computer. It was for the best. Hopefully, knowing he was the client’s sister, he might tone down the smoldering a little bit. If that’s what he was doing. Tall and dark was hot, even in a suit.

Imagine what he’d look like in faded jeans and an old T-shirt. Or jeans and no T-shirt. Or no anything…

“That’s why you were here when I met you. You’re family,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you’d broken in.”

“Sorry,” April said, brushing aside the daydream. “You startled me.”

“All this time I thought I was protecting—” He cut himself off, his gaze shifting to Rita. “I don’t understand. Why the conspiracy?”

Rita, nervous again, twisted her fingers through her hair. “It was just a misunderstanding. I never meant to hide—”

“
I
did,” April said. She should’ve told him on her first official day, when she tripped over him in the conference room. Now it had become a bigger deal than it needed to be. “Blame me. I don’t tell anyone unless I have to. It’s hard being in Wonderboy’s shadow. I wanted to work here on my own terms.”

“But everyone else must know,” he said.

“Maybe, but I’m not the one to tell them,” April said.

He put his hand over his notebook on the desk. “Wonderboy?”

“Gold medals, CEO, you know,” April said. “I don’t even know how to use FreePeat yet.”

Rita dove in. “You will by Friday.” She turned to Zack. “She’s really good. Even if I got to hire her myself, I would.”

“You didn’t hire her yourself?” he asked.

April sighed. “Rita, didn’t you have a meeting you had to go to?”

“As soon as Liam told me about her, I was glad,” Rita continued.

“Which was how long before she showed up?” Zack asked, patting the notebook.

“Go ahead,” April said. “Pick it up and write something down. You know you want to.”

Ignoring her, he kept his gaze locked on Rita. “Has he ever done this before? Hired a relative without consulting management?”

“Please don’t ask me,” Rita said. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I really like working here.”

“Except for the sneezing,” April said.

“And forget I ever mentioned that about the air filter,” Rita said. “I’m too sensitive. Just forget I ever said anything.”

The notebook opened in his hands. “Do you feel that telling the truth about how often relatives are hired in this company could jeopardize your job?”

“Put that away,” April said. “How can she answer that? You’re trying to trap her.”

“This wouldn’t be the first complaint of nepotism around here,” he said, scribbling with that little pen of his.

“That’s unfair,” April said. Her heart was pounding. Before Bev had inherited the company from her grandfather, Liam had been the only non-relative in a position of any power. Now he’d married the owner but did everything he could to keep family away from the company. “I made them hire me. If you want to blame anyone, blame me.”

His pen hovered over the page. “Made who?”

She gritted her teeth. “You know.”

“Liam and Bev?”

She nodded.

“How did you make them?”

“None of your business,” April said.

Eyebrows arching, he continued writing. “They couldn’t find anyone else to babysit their kid?”

Anger washed over her. Insults swirled over her tongue, but she bit them off. He was an officious dork—perfect. A few minutes ago, she’d been imagining him naked. Now she was having a fantasy about throwing him off the Bay Bridge covered in Shark Chow. Much better.