The Candidate (7 page)

Chapter 6

Ginny had just stepped out of the shower, revved-up and ready for a busy end to the week touting for new business when her phone rang.

‘Ginny, it’s Robert Kendrick. I hope this is not too early?’

Ginny struggled with her towel. ‘Not at all. How can I help?’

‘I was very impressed with what you had to say yesterday. I think you have a good handle on what we’re after, and how to go about getting it. I’d like you to get started right away.’

Friggin’ hell! She’d just landed the biggest account Shine had seen yet. ‘Robert. I’m flattered. Thank you. I’ll speak to AdMaster later this morning, get them to reserve some space for next weekend and the following …’

‘No, Ginny, that’s the thing. We need to go this weekend. Okay to get that sorted?’

She swallowed hard. Didn’t the man understand things like space and copy deadlines? ‘I’ll see what I can do, Robert, but the space really had to have been booked yesterday …’

‘That’s why I rang first-up. Give you plenty of time to charm them.’

He wouldn’t have made that comment if I was a bloke, she thought. What did he think she could do? Flutter her eyelashes and get the entire print line-up changed for one lousy ad?

‘I’ve also emailed through a few UK firms you can add to your search list.’ Ginny’s phone vibrated, announcing the arrival of the incoming email. ‘And we’d appreciate a progress report a week from Monday. Our deadlines are tight, and we got agreement on one of our proposals late yesterday, so I really need this person ASAP …’

Ginny tuned out. It was nothing she hadn’t heard before. The minute the client awarded the work they expected results within days. She felt her stress levels start to rise. Could she do this? The other firm that had pitched — Miles’, she thought with an uneasy turn of her stomach — would have a team of consultants, researchers and administrators ready to yell a collective ‘How high?’ as soon as a man like Robert Kendrick asked them to start jumping. What had she been thinking?

She took a deep breath. Toughen up, she told herself. This is what you wanted, and what the business needs. She concentrated on what Robert was saying.

‘I have to say, Ginny, Jackson favoured someone more established. However, I believe that a business such as yours — younger, hungrier — will work harder for the results we’re after. Don’t let me down, will you?’

And with that cheering endorsement, he was gone.

Ginny dressed with lightning speed. Heading down for the first of what she knew would be several coffees that day, she hit Ange’s speed dial, and swore under her breath when she got voicemail.

‘Ange, can you make it in this morning? I just heard from Robert Kendrick. I got it, we got it. I need you! Please call. Or just turn up.’

Grabbing her latte with a hurried ‘Good morning’ to Bruno/Marco, she dashed back to the office and started up her computer. It was too early to call AdMaster, but she kept an eagle eye on the clock so she wouldn’t get caught up and forget about it altogether.

She thought about what Ange could help her with, and prayed that her faithful assistant didn’t have other plans for the day. The business development scheduled for the morning would have to go out the window, but she should contact the client with the possible vacancy. It was bad business not to follow up a warm lead. She fired off a friendly email, and made a diary note to call later that afternoon if she hadn’t heard back. She thought of the CVs she had gone through the night before. She’d planned to start interviewing candidates the following week but now she had to get a shortlist together ASAP. That meant interviewing today and tomorrow.

Ginny was startled to notice the time. Grabbing her phone, she spent a nerve-racking ten minutes pleading, cajoling and gently threatening her account manager at AdMaster to guarantee that the ad for RK Investments and Strategy would run that weekend.

Sighing with relief and making a note to send a thank-you email on Monday — once she’d seen the ad resplendent in Saturday’s paper — she turned her attention to the search list. She was itching to get started.

When Ange turned up just after nine, Ginny nearly kissed her. She handed her a long list of tasks before carrying on with her own considerable to-do list.

It was too early to call the Australian leads for the RK role, so she turned to the list of contacts Robert had emailed through. It was pitifully small and as she researched them online her skepticism grew. She could see why he’d wanted them on the search list, but they didn’t look like firms filled with disgruntled employees wanting to bolt down to sunny New Zealand. Perhaps Robert had a case of the ‘prospective employer’s new clothes’? Just because he thought his proposition was the best thing to hit the market didn’t mean everyone would. Nevertheless, she did what she could and resigned herself to spending most of that night on the phone to the UK. Sighing, Ginny turned to her Aussie leads and picked up the phone.

She started on Australia’s eastern seaboard, heading west as the morning moved into afternoon. By two she had to call it quits as Ange had scheduled interviews for the afternoon.

Looking at her notes, Ginny frowned. There had been some interest, sure, but not as much as she would have liked. She blew out a breath. There could be any number of reasons, but she suspected the fact she wasn’t able to mention the name of the firm she was recruiting for was significant. The type of person she was seeking wanted to do their own research and make their own decisions, certainly if it involved moving countries. It wasn’t unusual for a company to be cagey early in a search process, but it was impossible to tell how the market would react to the secrecy until the first few calls had been made.

And so far, Ginny thought, the market wasn’t too impressed.

She checked her watch. With a few minutes before her first interview, she fired off a text to Mads to let her know she’d got the RK account. Some of the excitement and sense of pride returned. Jumping online, she made a post on her company website, her LinkedIn page, and then emailed her brother and others in her network asking for contacts who might be interested in the role.

She’d done a lot today, got a lot of plates spinning. After tonight, she’d have a good handle on the UK leads. The ad would run this weekend, and her networks — real and online — would start to throw names her way. Sooner or later, she’d get some nibbles. All she had to do was put in the work, sit back, and wait.

Later that evening, drained after the adrenalin of the day and the intensity of the interviews, Ginny dragged herself upstairs. She would allow herself twenty minutes on the couch and a short run before getting started on the calls to the UK. Closing her eyes as her beloved couch engulfed her, she winced when her phone rang.

‘Ginny Hayes,’ she answered without opening her eyes.

‘Ginny, hi — it’s Sam. Sam Weaton.’

It took a second or two, the cogs moving a little slower at this time of day. Then her eyes snapped open, and she swung around and planted her feet on the floor. It was the client she’d emailed this morning — with whom she’d forgotten to follow up.

‘Sam. Hi, how are you?’

Her email had been well-timed. As the accountant of a manufacturing outfit, Sam needed to recruit someone to give him a hand. But with Head Office tightening budgets, he was hoping for someone on a temporary contract.

‘Oh.’ Ginny rubbed her forehead. She hated this question. Some people were temp recruiters, some were perm. Some strange hybrids did both. She was not one. ‘I’m just not set up to payroll someone. I could do you a pro-rata flat fee and if they go perm at the end of the contract, we can tidy it up?’

There was silence at the end of the line.

‘It will be far cheaper doing it that way,’ she went on, warming to her subject — nothing like talking numbers to a numbers man. ‘You could go to a temp agency, but they’ll fleece you. I’ve got a few names in mind; let me have a closer look tomorrow and shoot you some CVs by the end of the day. Think about it over the weekend and, if you like the idea, I can start interviewing straightaway next week.’ Sure she could. Once she’d successfully cloned herself.

‘Yeah, okay, Ginny. That would be great, see what you come up with. Appreciate it.’

‘No problem, Sam, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

Ginny lay back for a couple more minutes, eyes closed again. Then, sighing, she went and changed into jeans. There goes the run, she thought. Back downstairs, she started searching her database for accountants who would consider a six-month contract as Sam Weaton’s offsider.

The following morning she was at her desk by seven, eyes gritty after a meagre sleep. She’d been on the phone to the UK until after midnight, and it had been absolutely bloody pointless. No one had actually laughed when she asked their level of interest in a role with a firm less than two years old which she couldn’t name, nor discuss their clients, nor mention the principals, but she was sure they’d come close.

She hadn’t gone into the exercise with a lot of confidence, but it was still horribly disappointing to have spent half the night on the phone and have nothing to show for it.

She contemplated her next job. The database search last night after Sam’s call had thrown up a few possibilities, most notably a frustrated and bored young accountant she’d interviewed earlier in the year called Nigel who was struggling to break free of the shackles the big accountancy firms put around their rising stars.

Nigel Evans, she thought, tapping his CV. Easy money or headache? Time would tell. She flicked his details through to Sam, along with a couple of others, and saw the job as done.

She had the morning blocked out for RK Investments and Strategy search work, with more interviews that afternoon. With two ads in this weekend, and three open roles still needing work, next week would be busy. I really need another consultant, Ginny thought desperately, disgusted that she had arrived at her tipping point so quickly and so outrageously unprepared. She was tempted to lay her face on the desk and close her eyes. Ginny gave herself a shake. Get on with it.

Chapter 7

It was dark, cold. The wind blew, fast and angry, in through the doors of the helicopter as it descended. He looked across at Nick, smiled and gave him the thumbs-up. Rappelling down, they hit the ground smoothly and ran low.

A few hours in and dawn was casting a pearly light all around them. They moved along the floor of a narrow valley, shale and scree giving way to stony ground underfoot. The valley walls were steep, but not unclimbable. It was not an impossible place to hide. They kept their weapons ready as they walked. Looking, evaluating, on the alert.

Not too much longer, he thought, looking ahead and seeing how the land opened out up ahead. They’d be out of there soon enough.

And then all hell broke loose.

The gunfire came from above, that was clear, and there was little cover. He hit the deck, and the other guys followed suit. Surprises weren’t unusual in this work, but there was an edge here he didn’t like. Even so, they’d make a plan, sort it out, get on with the job. That’s what they did.

There was a small outcrop just ahead of where they were. He signalled the others, covered them as they went for it. Saw Nick get up and run. A bullet cracked and he saw his mate fall.

‘Nick!’ He shouted. ‘Nick! Answer me!’

Felt himself gather, rise, move. Not like this, he thought. Not in some cocked-up ambush on what was a pretty standard job.

He ran toward his mate, felt something brush his ear. He dodged, hit the ground. Not like this, he prayed. Not yet.

Got up again and ran flat out. Nick was just there. Blood, oh Christ, look at the blood. Something slammed into his side, part red-hot needle, part battering ram. He twisted, stumbled, despite himself. Lost his footing on the stones, sensed something give, his knee screaming. He pushed up, kept going.

‘Nick!’ he shouted again.

Nearly there, just about at him. Yelling his head off to be heard above the gunfire, for the other guys, for assistance — now! One of theirs was down. A couple more paces: hang on, mate.

Just hang on.

Mac woke with a start. Had he shouted aloud? He looked around. Everyone else on the Air New Zealand flight seemed relaxed. Apparently his nightmare hadn’t broached his subconscious and disturbed any bystanders. This time. He stretched his legs and winced as his right knee complained. He rubbed it absently and looked out at the shining blue of the Tasman Sea.

Melbourne had been fun, made more so by the few days catching up with a friend from uni. Glenn was a playboy from the old days, and leaving his twenties hadn’t eased his commitment to the ladies. Losing himself in the haze of his friend’s dissolute lifestyle had been amusing and a welcome reprieve. As a bonus, he was an outstanding physio when not on the turps, and he’d ministered to Mac’s knee a couple of times, asking no questions, which Mac appreciated.

But even that, and the bevy of beautiful women Glenn trailed under Mac’s nose for the best part of a week, hadn’t been enough to keep him there. He needed to get home.

And then, suddenly, he saw it. He loved the way the West Coast suddenly appeared. Surging up, rugged and wild. He’d been away a lot, and had flown in and out a lot. But this homecoming knocked the wind out of him. The city rushed in and he saw the Sky Tower and the Hauraki Gulf as the plane circled and dipped.

Jen and his dad stood at the arrivals gate, looking wary and unsure. Mac smiled and gave them a wave. Please be normal, he silently begged, please don’t make a big deal out of this.

His father stepped up and embraced him. ‘Good to see you, son. Welcome home.’ He clapped him on the back.

‘Thanks, Dad. Jen.’ Mac reached over to give his stepmother a kiss.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you home, shall we?’

Chapter 8

It had been a killer weekend. Ginny had spent most of Saturday on her accounts, which she hated, and then Sunday trying desperately to uncover where else she could look for sodding candidates for sodding RK Investments and Strategy. Four days in and already she felt as if she had exhausted all avenues.

She’d had a brief reprieve on Sunday afternoon when she turned her back on it for a few hours and had lunch with friends. Afterwards she treated herself to a long, hard run before a long, hot shower.

Now, with the week stretching ahead, Ginny felt ready to launch back in.

Following an early breakfast meeting, Ginny hurried back to the office. She had an interview at nine with Nigel, her hopeful for the six-month accounting contract. She’d spoken to him on Friday after he’d had a particularly bad week — at that stage he was saying he’d happily throw in the towel for a few shifts at McDonald’s. Ginny was optimistic he was ripe for leaving the security of a permanent job he hated for a contract he might enjoy.

She rushed into the office and sighed in relief seeing Ange at reception.

‘Oh, thank you for coming in. Again. So much for part-time!’

‘No problem, boss.’

‘Any calls? Ad response?’ A few emails had come in over the weekend and that morning, but there was no flood.

‘No, not really. A few for the Forsyth role,’ Ange said, referring to another vacancy advertised over the weekend. ‘I emailed the PD, and I’ve started a spreadsheet with names and numbers of those I sent it to.’

‘Thanks, Ange,’ Ginny sighed. ‘Any sign of Nigel?’

‘Hell, yes.’ Ange’s tone dropped, and a knowing grin spread across her face. ‘The man is a honey.’ She raised her hand and shook it, as if to be rid of something. ‘In fact, I would go as far as to say smokin’. Dressed a bit casual for an interview, but still … very, very hot. He’s in Room Two.’

Ginny frowned in bemusement. Nigel was always impeccably presented — in fact, she thought him a bit of a dandy. Although he wasn’t offensive to look at, she wouldn’t describe him as ‘smokin’’. But then, she thought, seeing Ange’s grin, it did take all types.

‘Riiight,’ Ginny grabbed his CV off her desk and knocking twice, entered the interview room.

‘Nigel, hi …’ She started.

The man with his back to her was looking out the window. Tall, broad across the back, in jeans and a T-shirt. Black hair, a bit messy.

She stopped, as if against a glass wall. ‘What are you doing here? You’re not Nigel.’

‘No — not last time I checked,’ Mac turned to her and smiled.

Ginny frowned. ‘Jen didn’t …’

‘I asked her not to. Wanted it to be a surprise. Surprised?’ He hesitated. ‘Give us a hug?’

She hesitated, too, then walked into his arms. ‘Of course.’

She looks the same, was the first thought he had. Just like always. Just Ginny. Hair back in that long tail, frowning, then that big, bold smile for him. Her eyes, looking straight at him, deep and brown as ever although … there was something there — a wariness?

‘It’s so good to see you.’ He turned his head and kissed her cheek.

‘You too, Mac.’ She pulled back, hands still on his arms, assessing him.

He looked a bit drawn. More strung out than she remembered. But then, hell. No one was twenty-six anymore; they all looked more strung out these days.

‘Can I steal you away for a coffee? A catch-up?’

Irritation flashed through her, surprising her. Who did he think he was? Turning up out of the blue and expecting her to drop everything. She frowned. ‘I’m sorry, Mac, but I just can’t. This is set to be a day from hell, the start of a week, a month of it. I just can’t, mate. Not now.’

‘Yeah. Shit, of course. What was I thinking? Sorry.’ He looked up as Ange put her head in the door.

‘Ginny,’ confusion and curiosity warred for top spot on Ange’s face. ‘Another guy has just turned up claiming to be Nigel Evans. But he …’ she gestured accusingly at Mac, ‘said he was Nigel Evans.’

Mac grinned. ‘No, no, no — you assumed I was this Nigel bloke and I went along with it.’ He turned to Ginny and said, half-jokingly, ‘She’s some gatekeeper, that one. No way was I going to get in to see you if I just rocked up off the street.’

Ginny paused, suddenly not so sure herself. ‘Ange, meet Mac. Mac, this is Ange. Mac is an old friend, Ange is my assistant. Tell Nigel I’ll be with him in a minute, will you?’

Ange shot Mac another look as she left.

‘I really need to keep moving.’ Ginny looked up at him. ‘Are you around for long? I mean … can we catch up later or …’

‘Yeah, of course, Ginn. Whenever.’ He smiled again. ‘I’m around most of the summer — for a few months at least.’

‘Really? All summer? Here in Auckland?’

‘Yep. Just going to hang out, you know? Reacquaint myself with the place. Maybe do a bit of work at Dad’s firm, just casual. Catch up with some old friends.’ He caught and held her eye.

Her incredulity tripled. ‘Your dad’s firm? But, Mac, you hated that place!’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, well. He has a lot on and is a bit understaffed. I won’t be doing anything too glamorous; just glorified clerking, really.’ He shrugged. ‘But it means a lot to him, you know? It’s the least I can do and I thought it might be fun to try my hand at it again. See if I like it a bit more second time around.’

She looked at him closely. Something was definitely off here. ‘Mac. What’s up? You okay?’

Just like Ginny, he thought. Cutting to the chase like that, but then he’d been the one to nudge that particular door open. He reached inside, yanked it shut.

‘Of course.’ Big grin. ‘Look, I’ll leave you to it. When do you finish up? Can I buy you a bite to eat later?’

‘Um, sure. That would be great. Seven okay?’

He nodded.

‘There’s a buzzer and an intercom on the door downstairs. Give it a buzz and I’ll come down.’

‘Okay. See you then.’ He made to leave.

‘Mac? You will turn up this time?’

He faced her again. She was frowning, and the wariness was back. ‘Of course I will, Ginny.’

She waited as he disappeared down the stairs. Then, giving herself a small shake, she walked in to where Nigel was waiting.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Sorry about the wait. Let’s see if we can bring a bit of cheer to your career, shall we?’ And, taking a seat, she got down to business.

Busy morning, Ginny sighed to herself, several hours later. The interview with Nigel had gone well, and she’d set up a meeting for him with Sam later in the week. He was so desperate to get out of his current job that the prospect of a six-month contract didn’t faze him at all.

‘I can always go travelling, Ginny,’ he assured her when she raised the possibility of unemployment afterwards.

She looked at her emails and sighed. Most were responses to the other role she’d advertised over the weekend. And not near enough for RK Investments and Strategy. It was pretty bloody clear there weren’t enough plates spinning; she needed more applicants.

‘Ange, what’s your availability like over the next few weeks?’

Her assistant popped her head around the door. ‘Pretty good — why?’

‘I was wondering if I could just hand the Forsyth role to you.’ Seeing Ange’s horrified expression Ginny went on quickly. ‘Just until I start interviewing. I need to be able to push the whole thing off my desk — answering questions, returning calls and emails, acknowledging and processing applications, you know — all of that early-stage stuff.’

‘Um, I guess so. I can only do mornings, though; is that going to work?’

‘Perfect. I really appreciate this and, who knows, you might enjoy it.’

‘Doubt it.’ Ange pointed at Ginny’s computer. ‘Want me to get started now?’

‘I thought you could only do mornings.’

‘Starting tomorrow. Go and get me some lunch though, will you?’

‘Excellent swap. What do you fancy?’

‘Sushi.’ Ange was already opening emails. ‘And, Ginny?’

‘Mmmmm?’

‘What’s with the hottie?’

‘Hottie?’

‘Don’t try and be clever. That lovely specimen of manhood who rocked up this morning.’

‘Nigel?’

‘I said, don’t be clever. Or you can do your own bloody ad response.’

Ginny laughed. ‘Mac? I told you, just a friend. We went to uni together.’ She sat on the edge of her desk and looked at Ange. ‘Is he hot?’

Ange’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. ‘Of course, he’s bloody hot. Don’t tell me you don’t think he is.’

‘He’s a mate, you know? I don’t really see him that way.’

Ange shook her head. ‘You poor thing. I pity you, I really do. Go get my food.’

Ginny picked up her bag and headed down the stairs. As she stepped into the hot sun, she recalled what Ange had said and frowned. Was Mac hot? She thought back to earlier that morning and tried to distance herself, to step away from the years of friendship they’d shared. If she met him on the street or saw him at a bar, would she think he was worth a bit more attention?

Height, well — he had that in spades. That inky-black hair, always a bit messy but not too long — it looked good wet, she found herself thinking. He must have come straight from the shower this morning. Eyes — well, friend or not, she had to concede they were pretty damn special. The deep green that shifted, lightened or darkened with his mood. Thick, spiky eyelashes, just a bit longer than the norm for men but not girly. They framed his eyes even more, made them even more startling. A good, strong face. Classic features, nothing over the top, but it all fitted together well. Dimple, she suddenly remembered — left side — when he smiled. Nice mouth, actually, she considered, and nearly bumped into someone

Body — well, again, if she were honest, he was rather well built. Especially compared to most men in their early thirties. No growing paunch and office pallor for Mac. Hard, honed … all of that, but not with bulky, gym-junkie muscle. He had the form of a man who used and relied on his body — a lot. Strong. Without a shadow of a doubt, strong. Her mind flicked to his arms, the way the thick muscle of his forearms led to hands that were big, and a bit scarred. The line of his left arm broken by a complicated-looking watch. The way his upper arms had flexed, tightened around her. That strength again, restrained and controlled when he hugged her, but she could sense it, just below the surface.

She felt something quicken, just a tiny bit, no more than a spasm, but quicken it did, deep inside. She blew out a breath and feeling a bit out of step, tried to huff the image of him away. What was she thinking? It was Mac, for God’s sake. Seeing the sushi bar ahead, she hurried up the street.

Having collected lunch for herself and Ange, Ginny walked back to the office. Eating as she walked, enjoying the sun and the clear blue sky of early summer, she thought she’d pick up another coffee before an afternoon of search work.

Turning into the laneway, she heard someone call her name. With a bite of avocado roll hanging out of her mouth, Ginny turned to see Miles pushing off the wall opposite. Waiting for her? She quickly swallowed her mouthful.

‘Miles.’ She stayed put as he walked over.

‘Taking time for lunch, Ginn?’

‘Sure. Don’t often see you up this end of town.’

‘Oh, you know.’ He put his hands in his pockets and scanned the pedestrians around them. ‘Just thought I’d check out where the competition is these days. Seems you are. The competition, that is.’ He took off his sunglasses, and she saw the displeasure in his eyes, despite the smile. ‘Congratulations on the RK account, Ginny.’

‘What do you want, Miles?’

‘To offer my congratulations, of course.’ He stepped closer. ‘I could buy you a drink, if you like?’

‘No thanks, Miles.’ She turned to leave. Waste of breath, this man. But she stopped quickly as he shot out a hand and grabbed her arm.

‘Don’t rush off, Ginny. That’s a hard brief you’ve snagged for yourself.’ He leant in and she smelt his sour breath. ‘How’s it going?’

Ginny shook off his arm, angry now. ‘Back off, Miles.’

As she walked away, he called out. ‘Do you think you can do it, Ginn? Hard one to pull off when it’s just you. I’d be happy to help. Always enjoyed giving you a leg-up.’

She spun to face him. ‘It’s going great, Miles — thanks for asking. And although I understand why you might be looking for a few scraps from my table, I’d sooner feed a family of rats than offer you so much as a bite.’

He bared his teeth in an attempt to smile. ‘You always were a bit lippy, Ginny.’ He put his sunglasses back on. ‘I’d watch that mouth of yours, if I were you.’ He turned and walked off down the hill.

Ginny shuddered, despite the heat of the day. How could she ever have thought she loved him, worn his ring, planned a life with him? A serious error and serious proof of her bad judgement when it came to men.

She hurried back to her building and gratefully shut the door behind her. As she went up the stairs she contemplated the double whammy of seeing both Mac and Miles in one day. All she needed was friggin’ Santa Claus to rock up and the day would be complete.

Finding Ange on the phone, Ginny placed the sushi box on a pile of CVs, gave her another smile, mouthed another thank you, and went into her office.

She opened up her search list, and was halfway through dialling when her mobile rang. Seeing it was Mads, Ginny hung up the landline to speak to her friend.

‘Hi there — kids asleep?’

‘You know me too well. Yes, they’re both down and I’m battling through the ironing. I swear the damn stuff breeds like rabbits.’

‘I didn’t think anyone actually did ironing anymore.’

‘Ha, ha,’ Mads laughed drily. ‘Just one of the many exhilarating facets of my day. I’m scrubbing the loo next. How is yours going?’

‘The RK role is bombing in front of my eyes.’ Ginny rubbed her forehead, hating to hear the words come out of her mouth but relieved to be able to say it out loud. ‘And I just had a run-in with bloody Miles.’

‘Miles? Again? Isn’t that like, twice in a week?’

‘Yep — random last time, but he came up here to talk to me today. The man is a creep; I can’t believe I slept with him. Ugh.’