Stella in Stilettos (10 page)

“I love sushi” echoed from all the women, except Maggie. The men booed. Maggie put her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag.

Corrine threw up her hands in exasperation. “You wouldn’t know good food if it hit you in the mouth.”

Stella jiggled with noiseless mirth when Corrine said “Asses” under her breath.

The next suggestion involved a bus trip to an Indiana Pacers basketball game. An immediate thumbs-down from the women. The men, however, crowed like they’d won. Maggie set everyone straight. “No sushi or stadium hot dogs and beer. Come on, folks. Give me something I can work with.”

Alex nudged Stella with his foot. Their eyes met and Stella fended off a laugh by putting a hand to her mouth.

Maggie continued to go around the room and finally it was Stella’s turn.

“How about going to the Conservatory and Botanical Gardens? I hear it’s beautiful at Christmastime.”

If there was a gong it would’ve been hit twenty times. Stella shrugged. “Or not.”

“Alexxx.” Maggie drew his name out like a thick, slow pour of molasses. Alex’s eyes widened, along with a few others. “Give me what you have,” she said.

Maggie put her hands on her hips at the muffled snickers.

Alex looked up and down the conference table. “What do you think about going somewhere to dance?”

A chain of “oh’s” and “ah’s” ricocheted around the room. A few guys high-fived. Stella responded with a muted groan.

“Sounds like we have a winner,” Maggie said joyfully.

Belinda exercised her vocal chords in her usual loud manner. “I get the first dance, Alex.”

Maggie issued Belinda a squinty-eyed look of criticism. Or was it a territorial look?

Stella slid a peripheral glance at Corrine who was doing the same to her.

“A show of hands please.” Everyone put their hands in the air, including Stella. Not putting a hand up would draw questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. And it was too late to add a stipulation – no slow dancing.

Maggie looked pleased. “Excellent. Alex and I have a meeting on Wednesday. We’ll address the details of the party and send you an email. Dig out your dancing shoes, people.”

* * * *

For the last half hour, he’d been going over two conversations in his head – the one with Jett and the one with Belinda. He’d gone from a semi-great mood to being downright pissy. The two women who rode with him in the elevator picked up on his testy disposition and scooted to one side.

Jett was fast becoming a pain in his ass. Belinda had been one since he arrived in the department. The jury was still out on Maggie. She behaved like she was sweet on him yet not. She kept asking about Marc Thompson.

And then there was Stella. She was an expressive creature who laughed easily, turned pink without much provocation and fascinated him more than she should. When she looked serious, he wanted to find out what was lurking behind those green eyes. Since having coffee with her today, he felt a special tug in her direction. Actually, she’d been doing a slow pull for days. But when they sat side by side in the meeting he’d wanted to touch her. Her perfume messed him. And for some reason, he kept picturing her in those stilettos. The day she wore them she wobbled so much she could’ve easily broken an ankle. He chuckled. Stella was an intelligent, green-eyed, curly-haired…
sexy
…klutz.

The information made him stop in the middle of parking garage. When it came to business, he believed in walking a straight line. Do the right thing and your ass wouldn’t be on the chopping block. That was one reason he was so put off by Belinda; well, that and he hated pushy women. With Stella, he wanted to throw the rule book out the window. He wanted to get to know her outside of the office.

On the way to his parking space, he spotted Jett Morgan and Maggie engaged in conversation by his car. “Dammit.”

Jett waved. “There you are.”

Alex gnashed his teeth together. He was not ready to give Jett an answer to the bomb he’d dropped the other night. “Jett. Maggie.” He pressed his key-fob.

Maggie looped an arm through his. “Jett’s buying supper.”

* * * *

A lengthy yawn filled the phone line.

“Did I wake you?” Stella asked.

Trish yawned deeper. “I did some shopping after work and got really cold going in and out of the stores at Easton. When I got home I made the mistake of climbing into my pajamas and drinking a cup of tea. It relaxed me too much, I fell asleep.

“So the shopping was good?”

“There’s no such thing as bad shopping.”

“Lots of sales?”

Trish snorted into the phone. “You’re not a fan of shopping. So what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“When you lead with questions I know you could care less about, there’s something going on. Save us time and get to the good stuff.”

“What do you think about taking an excursion from Ft. Myers to Key West? Hypothetically.”

Trish hooted with triumph. “I’m in. When do we leave?”

“Relax, Trish. I was just wondering what you thought about it. Maybe we could go sometime.”

“I know you, Stella. You wouldn’t have mentioned it unless you wanted to go. And you called me so I’d talk you into it.”

Maybe that was it. Maybe she wanted Trish to make the decision. “It’s a couple of weeks away, so there’s not enough time to get ready.”

“What’s to get ready? Throw your swimsuit and some shorts in a bag and let’s go.”

“I don’t know these people, Trish.”

“These people? What people?”

Stella cleared her throat. “From the chat room.”

“The chat room?” Trish was quiet for a second as though she was sifting through the information.

“They have an annual Meet and Greet. This year they’re going to Key West.”

“Again, I’m in,” Trish spouted. “When is it?”

“The catamaran is chartered to leave on the twenty-sixth and pick us back up on New Year’s Day.”

“Is Mr. Right going?” There was a peculiar nuance to Trish’s voice.

“He mentioned it. I think his decision hinges on mine.”

“Then it’s a yes,” Trish whooped with delight.

“It’s a maybe. I promised him a decision by Thursday.”

 “Are we still on for dinner and a movie tomorrow night?”

“We are.”

“Great. I’ll meet you at six, and by six-fifteen I’ll have you talked into going. Before you hang up, how’s it going with tall, dark, and handsome?”

“Who knows? I gave him a cup of coffee and suddenly we’re friends.” She let a pessimistic thought take over. It would’ve been impolite of him to take the coffee and then ignore her. So his friendlier-than-normal behavior was probably his way of showing gratitude.

“Tell me everything. Now.”

“So bossy.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Stella laughed and fell into a tedious accounting of her day, which left Trish cracking up. “What’s so funny?”

“You have all the characters for a soap opera: Alex the hunk, Belinda the barracuda, and Maggie your less-than-trustworthy boss. From my vantage point, I see a whole lot of trouble brewing.”

“Ya think?”

Stella hummed her way into the office. The second she woke up she made the decision to go to Key West and emailed Mr. Right with the news. The pressure was off. Now she could kick back and wait for December twenty-sixth.

Corrine stood with her arms crossed scowling in the direction of Maggie’s office.

Stella sidled next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“From the moment she came in, she’s been heavy-footing it all over the place and dropping the f-bomb. There was a loud thud too, like she threw something.”

Stella winced. When Maggie was ticked she was as subtle as a Clydesdale in a closet. She looked over her shoulder at the office door. It wasn’t too late to make a trip to the cafeteria where she could deal with a pot of coffee instead of a Clydesdale. “Maybe she finally pushed Melvin to the floor. She’s been threatening to do it for months. I better check it out.”

Corrine shook her head. “You’re a glutton for punishment, woman.”

“I know. Terrible affliction.” Stella squared her shoulders. “Wish me luck.”

“If you’re not out in fifteen minutes, I’m calling 9-1-1.”

Stella rapped lightly on the glass of Maggie’s door. Maggie’s head snapped up from a stack of manila folders she was going through. She jerked her head to motion Stella in.

“Good morning, Maggie,” Stella said as though she had no clue her boss was being a Clydesdale. Melvin was still in one piece. But there was a black mark on the beige wall behind Maggie’s chair that wasn’t there yesterday.

“What’s so good about it?” Maggie asked tightly.

The sun’s shining. The drive into work had been smooth. And I’m going to Key West in a couple of weeks. That’s what was so good about it.
“Melvin being a brat today?”

Maggie dropped some papers into the paper shredder. “No idea. I haven’t been on the computer.” She winced loudly. “But he probably is.”

“What’s wrong, Maggie?”

Beady blue eyes jabbed Stella. “Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?” Maggie tried to stuff another handful of papers into the shredder and it jammed. She said the f-word and gave the shredder a swift kick.

Stella’s eyes widened and Maggie sneered. Whatever had her boss in a snit was big. “If you’re behind on paperwork because of all those meetings I can lend a hand.”

“Did I ask you to lend a hand? No. I didn’t.”

Maggie was prone to meltdowns. Stella knew it, accepted it and didn’t think any less of her boss. Then again, Maggie usually got over whatever was bugging her quickly and the rest of the day normally turned out okay. Today felt different. The Arctic ice surrounding Maggie seemed too thick to melt; which meant, eight hours of tiptoeing around or zipping the other way to stay out of her way.

Stella stood to leave. “I’m a good listener if you want to talk.”

Maggie responded without words. She clenched her hands and swiveled her chair to face the window.

* * * *

Stella chomped a chow mein noodle from her salad and called Trish.

“I’m so glad you called, I needed a friendly voice.” Trish sounded frazzled.

“You’re having one of those days too?”

Trish called her boss a few choice names and then commenced a full rant. “The armadillo called from Maui to see how things are going and he wanted to know if I had that stack of stuff done. Is he freaking kidding me? I haven’t made a dent in it. I flat out told him I might have it done by February. Then the long-tailed rat had the nerve to ask what the hold-up was.”

“The wily bastard knows you, Trish.”

“Huh?”

“All he has to do is piss you off and you rip through stuff like a woman possessed. When he gets back from Maui everything will be on his desk tied in a nice little bow.”

“Bite me.” Trish started laughing. “Oh God! You’re right. The armadillo knows how to manipulate me. Grr. I think I’m going to kick back for the rest of the day. I’ll show him.” She snickered again. “Any armadillos pissing you off today?”

“No armadillos, but there’s a Clydesdale clopping around the office, wreaking havoc. Actually, Clydesdale’s are awesome. Maggie’s more of a rabid badger.”

“When isn’t she?”

“True that.” Maggie was moody. Generally, not fist-clenching moody, but temperamental. “She’s cussing and throwing things, shoving papers into the paper shredder and then kicking it. I may need stitches where she tried to bite my head off.”

The phone line filled with laughter. “Want to change places for the day? I’m in the mood to duke it out with someone. It might as well be Maggie Watkins. I think I can take her.”

A vision of Trish going at Maggie was hilarious. Trish didn’t have enough meat on her bones to actually take Maggie, but when she got to the point where she’d had enough, she could snap anyone in half. Although today, Maggie had a lot more attitude on her side and would probably tip Trish head-first into the paper shredder. “Nah. Best to give her some space to work out whatever’s bothering her. She said something weird the other day in the elevator; something about husband trouble, kid trouble and mentioned her boss. Plus, she’s been to a lot of meetings lately. I think she’s stressed to the breaking point.”

Trish didn’t mince words. “Or…she’s just a bitch. She’s not your friend, Stella. You make her life easier, so she doesn’t mess with you.”

“She messed with me today.”

“Like I said, she’s a bitch who would run over you without looking back.”

“That’s harsh, Trish.”

“Sometimes the truth ain’t pretty. Speaking of pretty, is the hunk behaving like a rabid badger too? Or is this madness Maggie’s alone?”

“No idea how he’s behaving. He’s not here. Corrine said he called in this morning to take a vacation day.”