Little Secrets: The Baby Merger
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“Ten minutes, Mr. Tanner! We need you miked and sound checked now.”
“And me, too,” Sally interjected in a shaking voice.
“Are you sure, Ms. Harrison?”
It wasn’t Kirk’s imagination—she paled again. But in true Harrison spirit, she placed her bowl on the desk in front of her and rose to her feet. She straightened her jacket and smoothed her hands over her rounded hips. Yes, there was still a tremor there.
“Absolutely certain. Let’s get this over with,” she said tightly.
“You don’t have to speak. In fact, you don’t have to do anything at all. I can handle the announcement.”
“Really? Do you think that’s a good idea given that people will be expecting to see my father? A man they know and trust—” she paused for emphasis “—and instead they’re getting you?”
There was enough scorn in her voice to curdle milk.
“They can trust me,” he said simply. “And so can you.”
“You’ll excuse me if I find that hard to believe.”
* * *
Sally wished she hadn’t eaten a thing. Right now she felt sick to her stomach. How dare Kirk have hidden his identity from her like that? What kind of a jerk was he? Was this some form of one-upmanship, lording his conquest over her before he’d even started here—making sure she knew exactly who was the top dog? And what if he tried to hold their one-night stand over her?
Sally stiffened her spine and looked him straight in the eyes. “In my father’s absence, I would prefer to make the announcement regarding the merger. You can fill in the details afterward. It’s what Dad would want.”
The sick sensation in her stomach intensified at the thought of being the figurehead for making the company-wide statement. But she could do this. She had to do this, to save face if nothing else. Kirk looked at her for a few seconds then shrugged and reached across the desk to grab a sheaf of papers. He held them out to her.
“Here’s the statement your father prepared yesterday. If you’re sure you can handle it, I have no objection to you making the announcement and then I’ll field any questions from the floor. After the Q and A from the video feed closes, we’ll repeat the same again for the press announcement.”
“Why will you be answering questions? Why not Silas Rogers, the CEO, or any of our other senior management?”
“Sally, your father and I have been working together in the lead-up to this for several months now. No one else can give the answers I can. I’m the one who can carry out the plans your father and I made—that’s why I’ve been appointed interim chairman. The board gave their approval at the meeting that was called this morning.”
This morning. While she’d been at the hospital, out of her mind with worry over her father’s condition. Her mind latched onto one part of what he’d said and yanked her out of her brief reverie.
“Several months?” Sally couldn’t stop the outburst. “But I didn’t hear about it until yesterday!”
“It was your father’s decision to keep everything under wraps for as long as possible. Obviously he’d hoped to do the announcement with me today, present a united front and all that, but since he can’t, we’ll do the next best thing. Are you okay with that?”
Okay with it? No, she wasn’t okay with it—any of it. But her dad had thought of everything, hadn’t he? And none of it, except for a rushed dinner together last night, had included her.
“Sally?”
“Let me read the statement.”
Sally scanned the double-spaced pages, hearing her father’s voice in the back of her mind with every word she read. It wasn’t right. He should be here to do this. This company was his pride and joy, built on his hard work, and he respected each and every one of his employees so very highly. Somehow she had to remember that in what she was about to do. Somehow she had to put aside her phobia and be the kind of person her father should have been able to rely on.
With every thought, she could feel her anxiety levels wind up several notches. Be bold, she told herself. You can do this. She drew in another deep breath then stood up and met Kirk’s gaze.
“Right, let’s go.”
“Are you sure? You’ll be okay?”
Blue-green eyes bored into hers, and she felt as though he could see through her bravado and her best intentions and all the way to the quivering jelly inside. He knew. Somehow, probably through her father, he knew about her glossophobia—the debilitating terror she experienced when faced with public speaking. Shame trickled down her spine, but she refused to back down.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, forcing a calm into her voice that she was far from feeling. “It’s a video link, isn’t it? Just us and a camera, right?”
“Look, Sally, you don’t have to—”
She shook her head. “No, trust me, I really do.”
He might not understand it, but this had become vital to her now. A method of proof that she was worthy. A way to show her father, when he was well enough to hear about it, that she had what it took and could be relied upon to step up.
Kirk gave her a small nod of acceptance. “Fine. Remember I’ll be right beside you.”
She’d been afraid he’d say that. But as they walked out of her dad’s office and down the carpeted corridor toward the main conference room, she felt an unexpected sense of comfort in his nearness. She tried to push the sensation away. She didn’t want to rely on this man. A man she knew intimately and yet not at all. Don’t think about last night! Don’t think about the taste of him, the feel of him, the pleasure he gave you.
She needn’t have worried. Last night was the last thing on her mind as they entered the conference room and she was immediately confronted by the single lens of a camera pointing straight toward her. And beyond it was a bank of television screens on the large wall of the conference room—each screen filled with faces of the staff assembled at each of their offices. All of them staring straight at her.
Four
Kirk felt the shift in Sally’s bearing the second they entered the conference room. He cast her a glance. She looked like she was on the verge of turning tail and running back down the corridor. She’d already come to a complete halt beside him, her eyes riveted on the live screens on the other side of the room, and he could see tiny beads of perspiration forming at her hairline and on her upper lip. And, dammit, she was trembling from head to foot.
“Sally?” he asked gently.
She swallowed and flicked her eyes in his direction. “I can do this,” she said with all the grimness of a French aristocrat on her way to the guillotine.
Sally walked woodenly toward the podium set up in front of the camera. The sheaf of papers he’d given her earlier was clutched in one fist, and she made an effort to smooth them out as she placed them on the platform in front of her.
He had to give it to her. She wasn’t backing down, even though she was obviously terrified. He wished she’d just give in and hand the papers back over to him. Making her go through this was akin to punching a puppy, and the idea made him sick to the stomach. Probably about as sick as she was feeling right now.
The camera operator gestured to Kirk to take the other seat and Kirk hastened to Sally’s side. As he settled beside her, he could feel tension coming off her in waves. She’d grown even paler than when they’d arrived.
“Sally?” he asked again.
“Five minutes until we go live!” someone said from across the room. “Someone get mikes on them, please.”
Kirk reached across and curved his hand around one of hers. “Let me do this. I’ve had time to prepare. You haven’t.”
He held his breath, waiting for her reply, but they were distracted by two sound technicians fitting them each with a lapel mike and doing a quick sound check.
“One minute, people.”
Kirk squeezed her hand. “Sally, it’s your call. No one expects this of you. Least of all your father—and especially given the circumstances.”
“Don’t you see,” she whispered without looking at him. “That’s exactly why I need to do it.”
“Ten, nine, eight...”
“You only have to be here, Sally. That’s more than enough given what you’ve been through.”
“Live in three...” The technician silently counted down the last two numbers with his fingers.
Kirk waited for Sally to speak, but silence filled the air. Sally was looking past the winking red eye of the camera to the screens across the room, to the people of Harrison IT. Then, infinitesimally, she moved and slid the papers over to him. Taking it as his cue, Kirk pasted a smile on his face and introduced himself before he launched into the welcome Orson had prepared for his staff, together with a brief explanation that a medical event had precluded Orson from participating in the announcement.
Sally stood rigidly beside him throughout the explanation of the merger and the question-and-answer session that followed. The moment he signed off and the red light on the camera extinguished, Sally ripped off her microphone and headed for the door. He eventually caught up with her down the hallway.
“Leave me alone!” she cried as he reached for her hand and tugged her around to face him.
Kirk was horrified to see tears streaking her face.
“Sally, it’s all right. You did great.”
“Great? You call sitting there like a barrel of dead fish great? I couldn’t even introduce you, which, in all honesty, was the very least I should have done given you are a total stranger to most of those people.”
Distraction was what she needed right now.
“Dead fish? For the record, you look nothing like a barrel of anything, let alone dead fish.”
She shook her head in frustration, but he was glad to see the tears had mostly stopped.
“Don’t be so literal.”
“I can’t help it.” He shrugged. “When I look at you, the last thing I picture is cold fish of any kind.”
He lowered his voice deliberately and delighted in the flush of color that filled her cheeks, chasing away the lines of strain that had been so evident only seconds before.
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
“Tell me how impossible over dinner after the press conference.”
“No.”
“Sally, we need to talk. About last night. About now.”
He could see she wanted to argue the point with him, but he spied one of their media liaison staff coming down the corridor toward them. He was expected at the press conference right away.
“Please. Just dinner. Nothing else,” he pressed.
He willed her to acquiesce to his suggestion. Not only did he need to talk to her about the broken condom, but he found himself wanting to get to know her better away from the confines of the office. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she gave a sharp nod.
“Not dinner. But, yes, we can talk. I’m heading back to the hospital for a few hours first. I’ll meet you later in my office. You can say what you have to say there.”
It wasn’t quite the acceptance he’d aimed for, but for now it would do. He watched her walk away and head to the elevators.
“Mr. Tanner, they’re waiting for you downstairs in conference room three.”
He reluctantly dragged his attention back to the job at hand. Unfortunately for him, Sally would have to wait.
* * *
It was late, and most of the staff had already headed home. The media session had run well over time, and afterward he’d been called into an impromptu meeting with the CEO and several others. The board might have agreed to appoint him interim chairman, but the executives still wanted to make it clear that they were the ones in charge. But he’d handled it knowing he had Orson’s full support at his back, and that of the board of directors, too.
Now, he had a far more important task at hand. Kirk loosened his tie and slid it out from beneath his collar as he approached Sally’s office. He bunched the silk strip into his pocket and raised a hand to tap at her door. No response. He reached for the knob, turned it and let himself in.
The instant he saw her, motionless, with her head pillowed on her arms on the top of her desk, he felt a moment of sheer panic, but then reason overcame the reaction and he noted the steady breathing that made her shoulders rise and fall a little. She’d removed her jacket before sitting at her desk, and the sheer fabric of her blouse revealed a creamy lace camisole beneath it.
Desire hit him hard and deep, and his fingers curled into his palms, itching to relieve her of her blouse and to slide his hands over the enticement that was her lingerie. He doubted it was quite as silky soft as her skin, but wouldn’t it be fun to find out?
No, he shouldn’t go there again. Wouldn’t. Whatever it was about Sally Harrison that drew him so strongly, he had to rein it back. Somehow. It would be a challenge when everything about her triggered his basest primal instincts, but—he reminded himself—didn’t he thrive on challenges and defeating obstacles? He forced himself to ignore the sensations that sparked through his body and focused instead on the reality of the woman sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t heard him knock or enter her office.
She had to be exhausted. She’d been through a hell of a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Any regular person would have struggled with the onslaught of emotions, let alone someone forced to be part of a video conference who suffered a phobia like hers. Orson had forewarned him that Sally experienced acute anxiety when it came to public speaking. He’d had no idea how severe it was or the toll it obviously took. Having seen her like that today went a long way toward explaining why she’d remained in a safe middle-management role at HIT rather than scaling the corporate ladder to be at her father’s side.
He’d never before seen such despair on a person’s face at the thought of talking in public and, he realized, he’d never before seen such bravery as she’d exhibited in pushing herself to try. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so emotionally wrung out, she’d have been in a stronger position to attempt to conquer her demons today. But she hadn’t and, from their conversation in the hall, he knew she saw that as a failure.
He made an involuntary sound of sympathy, and she shifted a little on the desk before starting awake and sitting upright in her chair.
“What time is it?” she demanded defensively, her voice thick with exhaustion. “How long have you been waiting?”
There was a faint crease on her cheek where she’d rested her face on the cuff of her sleeve. Oddly, it endeared her to him even more. This was a woman who needed a lot of protecting—he felt it to the soles of his feet. She was the antithesis of the kind of women he usually dated, and yet she’d somehow inveigled her way into a nook inside him that pulled on every impulse.
“Not long,” he answered. “And it’s late. I’m sorry, I got held up. How was your dad?”
“As well as can be expected. He’s still stable and continues to be monitored, and they’re confident he’ll come through the surgery well tomorrow.”
As well as can be expected. It was an awful phrase, he thought, remembering hearing the exact same words from the medical team who had looked after his mother after the first of the strokes that stole her from him.
Sally pushed up from her desk and stood to face Kirk. “But you didn’t come here to talk about him, did you? What did you want to say to me?”
“I was hoping we could discuss it over dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving after today.”
“I thought we were going to talk here,” she hedged.
“Can’t we kill two birds with one stone?”
“Look—” she sighed “—is this really necessary? There’s no need to spend an hour making small talk over a meal before we get to the point. We’re both adults, so surely we can continue to act as such. I’m quite happy to forget last night ever happened.”
Kirk ignored the sting that came with her words. He couldn’t forget last night even if he wanted to—especially not now. “And, as adults, we should be able to enjoy a meal together. Really, I could do with a decent bite to eat, and I’m sure you could, too.”
She looked at him and for a moment he thought she’d refuse, but then she huffed out a breath of impatience.
“Fine. I’ll let my security know I’m leaving with you.”
Ah, that explained the muscle who’d accompanied her to the bar last night. “You have security with you whenever you’re out?”
“One of the examples of Dad’s overprotectiveness. When I was little and HIT was beginning to boom, there was a threat to kidnap me. Ever since he’s insisted on me having a bodyguard. Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”
“It’s hardly overprotective,” Kirk commented as he helped Sally into her suit jacket. “Your father clearly takes your welfare seriously.”
He felt a pang of regret as she buttoned up the front of her jacket, hiding the tempting glimpses of lace visible through her blouse.
“He likes to know I’m safe.”
“I protect what’s mine, too,” Kirk replied firmly.
Sally raised her eyebrow. “Isn’t that a little primitive?”
“Perhaps I should rephrase that. Like your father, I take my responsibilities very seriously.”
“Well, considering you’re standing in for my father at the moment, I guess I should find that heartening.”
Kirk smiled. “I will always do my best by the company—for your dad’s sake, if nothing else. You can be assured of that. He has my utmost respect.”
“You say you’ve known him most of your life, and yet I had no idea he even knew you. No idea at all.” For a second she looked upset, but then she pulled herself together. “Let me call Benton and then we can go.”
He could see it really bothered her that her father hadn’t shared anything about the merger until the ink was drying on the paperwork. But was that because she was disturbed her father had made those decisions without consulting her, or because she had something to hide? Kirk couldn’t be absolutely sure either way.
She made the call, and in the next few minutes they were riding the elevator to the basement parking. Kirk led the way to his car—a late-model European SUV.
“You must be relieved for your dad. That he’s stable, I mean.”
“I’ll be relieved when I know he’s getting better again.” She looked away, but he couldn’t mistake the grief that crossed her face. “He was so gray when I left him this afternoon. So vulnerable. I’ve never seen him like that. Not even when Mom died. And he still has a major surgery to get through.”
“Your father has more strength and determination than any man I’ve ever met, and he’ll be receiving excellent care at the hospital. He’ll come through this, Sally.”
The words seemed to be what she needed to hear to pull herself together again. She looked up and gave him a weak smile. For a second he caught a glimpse of the woman he’d danced with last night, but then she was gone again. Kirk waited for Sally to settle in the passenger seat and buckle her seat belt before he closed her door and went around to the other side. She was still pale, but she appeared completely composed and in control. Not quite the woman he’d met last night, but not the woman caught in the grip of the anxiety attack from this afternoon, either.
He pulled out of the parking garage and headed down the road.
“Any preference for dinner?”
“Something fast and hot.”
“Chinese okay, then?”
“Perfect.”
A few blocks down, he pulled into the parking lot for a chain restaurant he knew always had good food.
“Looks like this is us.”
He rushed around to her door and helped her from the car and they were seated immediately.
“A drink?” he asked Sally when the waiter came to bring their menus.
“Just water, thank you.”
Probably a good idea for both of them, he thought, and gave his request for the same to the waiter. “Do you mind if I order for us?”
Sally shook her head, and he turned to the waiter and requested appetizers to be brought out to their table as soon as possible and ordered a couple of main entrées to share, as well.
Her lips pulled into a brief smile. “You really are hungry, aren’t you?”
Sally slipped out of her jacket and put it on the seat beside her. He looked at her across the table, noting again the imprint of her lacy camisole beneath her blouse. “You could say that,” he replied with a wry grin.
Oh, yes, he was hungry for a lot of things, but only one of his desires would be satisfied by this meal tonight. To distract himself, he also shrugged off his jacket and undid the cuffs on his shirt and began to fold them back. He looked up and saw Sally’s gaze riveted on his hands. Even in the dim light of the restaurant, he saw the rose pink stain that crept over her cheeks and her throat. Was she remembering exactly what parts of her body his hands had touched last night? Did she have any idea of how much he wanted to touch her again?
As if she sensed his gaze, she shook her head slightly and stared off into the distance, watching the other diners. Then, with a visible squaring of her shoulders, she returned her attention to him.
“Okay, so what was so important that you couldn’t tell me at work?”
Kirk shifted in his chair. “It’s about last night—” He paused, searching for the right words.
* * *
Sally felt her cheeks flush again. Did they really need to hash this all out? She’d much rather they just moved on.
“We covered this already,” she interrupted. “Yes, it’s awkward that we’re working under the same umbrella after spending last night together. It happened, but it won’t happen again. I’m sure we can be grown-up about it all and put it very firmly in the past. It doesn’t have to affect our working relationship, such as it will be, and I’d prefer we just forget about it entirely.”
She ran out of breath. Kirk eyed her from across the table.
“Are you quite finished?”
“Finished?”
“Your commendable little speech.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I’m done.”
“Great. I’d like to agree with you. However, we have a problem.”
Sally looked at him in confusion. Did he think he couldn’t work with her? She knew he’d mentioned redundancies in his announcement today. Surely he didn’t mean to dismiss her from her job? Could he even do that? Was that what this dinner was about? Cold fingers of fear squeezed her throat shut.
“A problem?” she repeated.
“The condom broke.”
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