Authors: Lexy Timms
“You wanted to see me?” Jamie asked, sticking her head around the door that separated her office from Alex’s. Her body still ached pleasantly from their lovemaking the night before, and seeing Alex sitting at the big marble-topped desk in his perfectly tailored suit, looking so competent and powerful, made her want him all over again, but that wasn’t in the cards for the morning. They did have an actual business that they had to run, no matter how much Jamie wanted to jump her husband.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Alex said, looking up from the spreadsheet he’d been reading. “You can come and sit down; you don’t have to stand in the doorway. It’s not exactly a five-minute discussion.”
Jamie slipped fully into the room and took the chair across from Alex, folding her hands in her lap and trying to look professional instead of like she was thinking about the way that his hands had felt on her body the night before. “What kind of discussion is it, then?”
“I wanted to talk to you about possibilities for a new senior advisor.” He gestured to a small stack of employee files sitting in front of him. “I’ve been looking through these, and there’s really no one here who I think knows the business well enough. Or no one who knows it and would fit into an advisor position. I’m not promoting one of the behind the scenes people again after what happened with Zander. Not that I think they’re all traitors, or I wouldn’t still be employing them, but I don’t think they’re the best choice for senior management.”
Thoughts of sex forgotten for the moment, Jamie nodded. “I think it’s better to have someone who has some experience being the public face of a company,” she agreed. “With the PR nightmare this thing became, we’re going to need to make sure the people on the front lines are able to handle difficult questions.”
“Exactly. The last thing we need is someone blundering their way through an interview that I can’t be there for and giving people another reason to distrust Reid Enterprises.” Alex sighed. “I just can’t risk more bad publicity. We’re barely hanging on to some of our clients as it is.”
“So what were you thinking?” Jamie asked.
“I’m thinking I’m going to get hold of Paul.”
That surprised her. After Paul had left so unexpectedly in the middle of what was practically a crisis, Jamie wouldn't have expected Alex to ever want him back. But he had been a good worker, and finance-savvy, and he hadn't betrayed them the way that Zander had, so those were all points in his favor. And, honestly, Jamie had liked him. He'd been fun to have around, and she'd missed him after he'd left. The more that she thought about it, in fact, the more that he seemed like a good choice to replace Zander.
“I think it's a good idea,” she said. “He knows his way around here, so it's better than hiring someone who’s a complete outsider, and people who were here when he was remember him fondly, I think. He’s missed most of the stuff that hit the fan. That’s actually a benefit. He could integrate back in quickly, and help you finish getting the company properly back up on its feet. And I wouldn't mind seeing him again, actually.”
Alex gave her a look that said maybe she'd made it too personal, and Jamie gave him one back that said he needed to relax.
“I'm not going to let him sweep me off my feet and carry me away, if that's what you're worried about,” she teased. “If you'll remember, nothing like that happened the first time, and I happen to be your wife and the mother of your children. I'm not going anywhere.”
There was a little bit of bite to the words. If Alex was still worried about her running off after all this time, they were going to have to talk about it because he should know better.
“No,” Alex said. He shook his head. “I know that you wouldn't leave me, Jamie. I'm not going to change my mind about hiring Paul just because you think he's a nice person.”
“Good. Because I think he really could help you here, if he wants to come back.”
Alex thought he could, too. That was why he'd suggested him in the first place. He reminded himself that jealousy wasn't going to do anyone any favors, and was completely unfounded anyway. Jamie was his as much as he was hers, and he'd had proof of her loyalty over and over again.
“I'll call him,” he said.
“You do that.” Jamie stood up, leaning across the desk to grant him a quick kiss.
Alex curled one hand around the back of her neck, gently stopping her from pulling away, and made it a little more than quick. His tongue explored her mouth and his other hand settled on her shoulder, while her hands braced her against the marble top of the desk. It couldn't have been the most comfortable position, but she didn't seem to be complaining. At least not until she swatted his shoulder with one hand and he let her go so that she could pull back, both of them catching their breath.
“We don’t have time for this,” she said, firmly. “You can have your fun after work. And after you've called Paul and seen about getting someone here to help you so that you can get home earlier at night.” She smiled. “I could think of a few fun things we could do with a little extra time.”
Knowing she was right didn't make it any easier not to reach out and pull her close again, but Alex resigned himself to waiting. His thoughts were clear on his face. “I could think of more than a few,” he said, “but you're right. After work.”
She turned and left and Alex watched her go, his eyes following the sway of her hips until the door shut behind her and he was forced to remember that he actually had a job to do. With a sigh, he sat down at his desk and got out his phone.
Paul answered after two rings. Alex hadn't been sure, actually, that the mobile number he had would still work, and had wondered if he would have to find out where Paul was currently working and find a way to contact him through them, but it seemed that the younger man had at least kept the same phone.
“Paul speaking. How can I help you?”
“Paul. This is Alex Reid.”
There was an instant's pause.
“Mr. Reid!” Paul said. “I'm surprised to be hearing from you.”
“I can imagine.” Alex wondered how much Paul had heard about the scandal and Zander, and whether he'd even be interested in coming back to Reid Enterprises at all after the way things had been for the past few months. Maybe he wouldn't want to attach his name to a business that had been dragged through the mud the way they had been.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Reid?”
“I'm calling,” Alex said, “because I wanted to know if you had any interest in coming back to work for Reid Enterprises.”
That got him another pause, this one longer than the first.
“I heard about what happened with your senior advisor,” Paul said, which answered at least one question. “And saw the headline this morning about his trial starting.”
Alex had seen it, too. More than one. Some of the media had speculated on whether, with all the trouble Reid Enterprises was having, there was something going on behind the scenes that gave other people a reason to drag him and his company through the mud. Others had seen Reid Enterprises as entirely blameless in the matter and had instead turned their speculation on Nicholas, which was where it belonged in Alex's opinion. It wasn't like there were a bunch of random people causing them trouble. All of it, with the exception of Jamie's ex- brother-in-law Stephen, had been caused by Nicholas.
“We're hopeful that justice will prevail in that,” he said.
“Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm hoping for that, too,” Paul answered. “I know you and your company, and I know that I left, but that doesn't mean that I have anything against you or Reid Enterprises. What happened was really inexcusable.”
It was a more mature answer than Paul would have given before. Less flippant, and Alex found himself feeling more sure that he'd made the right choice in deciding to call the younger man and offer him a position. The question was whether Paul would take it or not.
“I'm glad to hear that you think that way, because otherwise I'd have to rescind my offer.” He put a smile into the words.
“Could I ask you what the specifics of that are?”
That was the question Alex had been hoping for. If he was going to reel Paul in, it was going to be with a good position and a better salary. He had to be a better option than anything that Paul had currently or was going to get elsewhere.
“I'm offering you the position of senior advisor, which Zander just vacated, and an extra thirty thousand a year on the salary you were previously paid when you worked management for us. You'll also have excellent benefits, of course, including insurance and paid vacation, options for stock in Reid Enterprises… and a company car.”
There was a moment's silence, and Alex could practically hear the thoughts on the other end of the line as the younger man mulled over the offer. He was sure that it was better than what Paul currently had, no matter where he was working.
“I know that you left because you wanted something different in your personal life,” he said when Paul still hadn't spoken, “and that's not something I can control, but New York isn't exactly a small town. There are options here for everyone, and we'll make sure that you have enough time off, and enough money in your pocket, to enjoy everything that it has to offer. There are thousands of young professionals here, and I'm sure that some of them would be more than happy to be friends with an up and coming senior advisor at a major financial company.”
Paul laughed. “That's the first time I've heard a job pitch that included a suggestion on how to manipulate people into being friends with me.”
“I wasn't suggesting manipulation,” Alex answered, letting his smile be audible in his voice. “Just telling you that you're not likely to be short of hangers-on, some of whom may only be interested in your money, but plenty of whom, I'm sure, will like you for who you are. At the risk of sounding conceited, you remind me quite a bit of myself ten years ago, and I never had any trouble making friends.”
“Or enemies?” Paul suggested.
“Plenty of people were jealous of me,” Alex said. “But don't let concerns about that trouble you. There are always going to be people who will be jealous of you. That just means that you're doing something right.”
“Senior advisor,” Paul mused, “and thirty thousand over my last salary with you?”
“And paid vacation time,” Alex said. “Four weeks a year. As well as a company car and plenty of perks.”
The silence this time had a quality to it that let Alex know he'd won even before Paul sighed. “You're a hard man to turn down, Mr. Reid.”
“You don't get to the top by half-assing things,” Alex answered. “When should I expect you to be ready for work?”
“Give me two weeks,” Paul said. “I've got to hand in my resignation here.”
“Monday, then, three weeks from now. I'll cover your moving expenses.”
“You must really want me back,” Paul said, and he sounded a little wondering.
“What I want, Paul, is someone I can trust not to turn on me. Someone who won't run my company into the ground, deliberately or otherwise. It helps that I actually do happen to like you, but as long as you can competently do your job you're worth every penny that I'm going to spend. And
that
I believe you can do, or I wouldn't have called.”
“I guess I'll take that as a compliment,” Paul laughed.
“It is one,” Alex said. “And I don't give them out easily.”
“No. That I remember quite well.” There was a moment, the sound of a laugh under the younger man's breath that he probably hadn't meant Alex to hear. “All right. I'll see you in three weeks, Mr. Reid.”
“I'm looking forward to it,” Alex said.
The call ended, and he set his phone back down on the desk, leaning back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. That had gone better than he'd feared it might. As he'd told Paul, having someone he could trust to handle his company well was worth every penny that it was going to cost him, and it wasn't as though he was short on capital. And Jamie would be pleased to have one of their old employees back.
He stood, stretching out some of the tension in his back, from sitting so long, and crossed the room to the door that opened on his wife's adjoining office. She was sitting at her desk when he walked through, going through something on the computer, and she looked up at the sound of the door opening, her eyebrows lifting in silent question.
“Paul starts in three weeks,” Alex said.
A smile lit her face, and despite the pulse of jealousy that ran through him Alex couldn't quite help smiling back. Paul wasn’t a threat, he reminded himself, no matter what conclusions his instincts wanted to jump to.
“Three weeks,” Jamie said. “And one more week to refresh his memory, and then I’m expecting you home early at least two nights a week.” She gave him a mock-stern glare. “And I mean it. I have plans for you.”
Any hint of jealousy vanished, replaced by the same anticipation in Jamie’s smile. Alex was pretty sure he was going to be very okay with whatever plans she came up with.
The mechanical clank of digging equipment doing its work grew louder as Mark approached the far end of the golf course, where a backhoe was scooping up earth and dumping it to the side, creating a depression that would house a new water feature for the club. It was only one of a number of new features that were going to be put in before the tournament. Other sections of the course would keep their current set-up, with a bit of an overhaul to make them more streamlined and aesthetically pleasing. He was also having a landscaping company come in to put a garden in up by the clubhouse, as well as improve the current state of the grounds. Construction had just started, and it was a little soon to be sure, but so far everything was going fairly well. There hadn't been any major disasters, and Mark was hopeful that the rest of the project would continue in the same fashion. Surely, after everything that his family had gone through in the last few months, they deserved a break.
As he ducked under the rope that cut off the part of the course currently under construction from the rest, a man in a hardhat turned away from supervising the digging, leaving another to watch the backhoe and its driver, and made his way toward Mark.
“Mr. Reid,” he said when he was within earshot, speaking loud enough to be heard over the heavy machinery. “How are you doing today?”
“Just fine, Roger. Thanks.” Mark looked over at the hole that the workers were currently digging. “How is the new pond coming?”
“It's coming along well. Everything is looking on schedule so far,” Roger answered, arms crossed over his chest. He had the rough accent of a man from Brooklyn and the look of someone who had spent his whole life working in construction. “We're thinking that this is going to be a pretty simple job back here. Although, of course, it will take some extra time since we're not working during the day.”
“That's something to be expected,” Mark answered.
It was one of the reasons that he'd started construction so early. He had considered simply having the construction run on while the club was open, but golfing was something people did to reduce stress. They didn't want a bunch of noisy, smoking machinery busily digging holes while they tried to perfect their swing. It was just one of the inconveniences that came with his line of work. He could have shut down the club and had all the construction done quickly, but that had seemed too likely to lose him clientele. There was always somewhere else that they could go, plenty of country clubs around New York City, and if they started going somewhere else while the club was under construction they might never come back to Little Lake. So he'd done what he had to in order to work around his clients' time.
“I'm not worried about a few extra weeks. We started the projects in plenty of time.”
“Even if things take a little longer than we expected,” Roger said, “you're going to be fine on that front for sure. Lots of people want things done right this minute, and it ends up costing them. People cut corners to save time and then six months later they're back at it again because they didn't do it the way they were supposed to in the first place. If you want something done well, you have to make sure you have long enough to do it.”
“Isn't that the truth,” Mark laughed. “Although you may not think so kindly of me when I tell you what I came down here to talk about.”
Roger looked at him, waiting.
“I want to put a pool in up by the main building. I think it would really add something to the club. Maybe a hot tub, too? Something with some natural-looking features. You know, rocks. Waterfalls. Classy.”
“That's something we can do for you.” Roger pulled a smartphone out of his back pocket and swiped through his calendar. The sleek electronic piece looked incongruous in his big, callused hands. “Looks like we've got some time here at the end of the project. Or I can hire a few more boys and get it done faster for you. Either way we're obviously looking at a budget increase.” He looked up at Mark.
“Money isn't going to be a problem,” Mark answered.
He'd made enough of a profit since he opened the country club to keep it afloat on its own gains, and with what he'd pulled in from investors the construction was going to be more than covered, even with the prices that Roger's company charged. If he wanted to prove to the people who'd paid for the renovations that he'd used their money well, he had to hire the best, and that came with a price tag… but it was worth it.
“Glad to hear that,” Roger said, though he'd likely known that was exactly what Mark was going to say. “In that case, do you want us to work on the pool with the rest of the stuff, or do it at the end?”
Mark considered. Working on the pool now was going to bring in more construction equipment. They generally left it during the day, even when they weren't working. Up by the main house it was going to be even more visible to the club's patrons. Having it in more than one place at once might prove to be enough of an eyesore that some people decided to go somewhere else while the construction was underway.
“What if we do it at the end?” he suggested. “How long does it take you to put in a pool?”
“Not more than a few days for the heavy digging and all that. If you’re looking for a concrete pool, it’ll be a bit longer to pour the concrete. Once that's done, you won't have to worry about the construction equipment being everywhere so much. We can tidy it up for you during the day, if that's what you're worried about.”
“And what if you were working through the day during the digging phase?”
“Two days. Tops.”
“In that case, what we'll do is close the country club for two days and I'll have you do the bulk of the work on the pool during that time. I don't want to close it for much more than that, but forty-eight hours isn't going to do any damage. I’ll check regarding the concrete. If we have it ready, could it be poured nearly at the same time?”
“Close.” Roger marked the plan in his calendar and tucked the smartphone away again. “Sounds good, boss. Anything else you need?”
Mark shook his head. “That should be it for now. Thank you, Roger.”
“No problem.” Roger smiled. Mark was clearly keeping his workers busy.
Turning away, Mark walked back toward the club, ducking under the rope again and then heading back up toward the clubhouse. The sound of the machinery receded behind him.
***
He found Erica up in their rooms, sitting on the couch with a stack of magazines on the coffee table in front of her and a mug of steaming tea in her hand. Several of the magazines were open in front of her, and as he got closer Mark could see that they were all bridal magazines, full of pictures of smiling women in wedding gowns and cakes layered high and covered in white frosting and flowers.
“Planning?” he asked, stepping up behind her and wrapping his hands over her shoulders, working his thumbs against the back of them to feel her melt against him as the massage eased tension from her muscles.
“Deciding what kind of wedding I want to have,” she answered, tipping her head back to look up at him.
Mark leaned over and stole a quick kiss. “Any ideas yet?”
“Something classic, I think,” she said, head dipping forward again so that he could rub the back of her neck. “Maybe golf-themed. Although we're already on a golf course. I'm not sure how much golf we can stuff into one reception.”
“Probably a lot,” Mark said, grinning down at the crown of her head. “Golf tee name card holders. Tiered golf course cake. Golf-themed drinks at the open bar...”
“Okay,” Erica laughed. “No. I've changed my mind. No golf-themed wedding.”
“What, you don't like my ideas?” Mark made his voice sound just hurt enough that she would know he was teasing her.
Erica twisted around to look at him, dislodging his hands from her shoulders. “I might like them if you were serious about it. But it does seem like an overload of golf to have a golf-themed wedding at a country club with a golf course.”
“Is there really any such thing as an overload of golf?” Mark asked as he came around the side of the couch to sit down on it with Erica.
“There definitely is,” she answered. “And I think you hit it.” She looked down at the magazines again, setting down the mug she'd been holding, onto a coaster. “What if we didn't do a themed wedding at all? Just something based on colors? Gold and green, maybe. Or gold and pink. I like those combinations.”
“I think it's really up to you, babe,” Mark said. “I'm not really a designer. Which, by the way, I thought you mentioned hiring to keep the planning from being too stressful.”
“Oh, I’m going to hire one. I just want to know what I'm looking for first, because who we want to design the wedding will depend on the style we're going for.” Her voice was a little distant, half her attention on the magazine that she was flipping through. “Especially in New York. There are so many options for wedding planners. We could stress ourselves out more looking for one than we would planning the wedding ourselves if we don't narrow down the field.”
“I'll trust your expertise on that,” Mark said.
“You should trust my expertise on everything,” Erica answered, looking away from the magazine to grin at him.
“Is this the start of those 'wife is always right' days?” Mark protested. “If so, I think you're a little premature. You don't get to do that until after the wedding.”
“Actually, I think it's 'the woman is always right,' all the time,” Erica corrected. “Which means I get to start as soon as I want to.”
“I don't think that's fair.” Mark tried to keep a straight face, but a smile kept slipping onto his face. “I should get to be right sometimes.”
“I don't make the rules,” Erica said with a shrug. “I just have to follow them. Which means I'm right, you're wrong. Sorry, babe.”
Mark laughed. “Who does make the rules, then? Because I really have to have a talk with them.”
She tipped her head to the side, eyebrows drawing together and mouth pursing in exaggerated thought. “You know,” she said, “I don't know.”
“Well, then, I don't think I have to listen to the rules,” Mark said. “You can't trust rules that are made by a random 'they'. You never know what kind of ulterior motives—”
Erica cut him off with a kiss, dropping the magazine that she had been flipping through back to the table and swinging herself lithely around so that she was settled on his lap, her long legs on either side of his hips. Mark's arms wrapped around her waist and he drew her in closer, her body pressed all along his own.
“Wow,” he said when she drew back. “What was that for?”
“Because I love you,” Erica said, smiling at him with a shy edge that he rarely saw in her. The smile widened, more confident. “And because I wanted to. And I can.”
“All very valid reasons,” Mark agreed, pulling her in for another kiss.
They shifted until they both lay stretched out along the couch, Erica's fingers reaching for the fastenings of Mark's slacks and Mark's hands sliding under Erica's shirt and over the flat plane of her stomach. The wedding magazines lay where they'd been left, forgotten on the table.