Ulterior Motives (13 page)

“That’s quite enough, Chuck,” Shelley interrupted sharply, masking her surprise as well as she could.

“Going around looking like—”

“The lady said that’s quite enough, Charles.” It was Ross’ cool, authoritative voice.

Shelley looked up in surprise to see him standing in a shadowed doorway just down the hall. Relief washed through her. Chuck had been about to make a nasty scene, the general tone of which would have been as disgusting as it was unexpected.

“Shelley, what a pleasant surprise,” Ross said cheerfully, trying to banish the tension among the three of them. “Please come in and have a seat.” He ushered Shelley into his office and glanced at Chuck. “Nearly through gathering your belongings, Charles?”

The meekness of Chuck’s muffled reply relieved Shelley. She was glad Ross could handle him in this mood, since it frightened her a little bit. She had guessed how intensely Chuck hated her, but he had always tried to keep it hidden until now. She suddenly realized how glad she was to know she would never have to deal with him again.

“Have a seat,” Ross invited. “I’m afraid it’s a little cramped in here.”

“Why are you in this tiny room?” she asked. “The director’s office is beautiful, if I remember correctly.”

“I’m not the director,” he reminded her.

“Neither is Chuck, I gather. He said he’s resigned. You gave him the chance to, rather than fire him, didn’t you?”

“It was the best alternative, for both him and the company.”

“And for you?”

He hesitated a moment, and she sensed he felt uncomfortable about having revealed that vulnerability to her. “It was the best choice for me, too,” he admitted.

“So who will sit in that office now?”

“Whoever I decide to hire.” His eyes avoided hers. “I just sort out the mess and put things in order. I never stay.”

“Yes. I’d forgotten.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “So you’re looking for a new director?”

“I may have found someone.”

“So fast?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Anyone I know?” she prodded.

He smiled charmingly and changed the subject. “What brings you here today? Dare I hope you couldn’t stay away from me any longer?”

Shelley rolled her eyes. “Actually, I can’t stay away from your Pashto interpreter any longer.”

“Ahh, the job is coming up soon, is it?”

“Yes, it’s next week, and none of my contacts can find anyone acceptable. If you really can help me with this, Ross, I’d be so grateful I’d... I’d... I’d be very grateful,” she finished lamely.

He grinned, and she knew he was going to toy with her just a little bit for making him wait so long.

“So, you need something only I can provide,” he mused.

“You did offer,” she reminded him.

“I seem to recall saying I’d want something in return.”

“Did you?” she hedged.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I never do anything for free.”

“I gathered that.”

“Yes, you’ve read all about me, haven’t you?”

“What could I possibly offer you, Mr. Tanner, that you don’t already have or can’t get without my help?” she asked.

His eyes raked her slowly, so thoroughly that she wondered whether all her buttons were done up. “A number of things come to mind,” he said, “and I suspect some of them would make your father want to shoot me.”

Shelley shifted self-consciously. She reminded herself that he was a heartless flirt and a sophisticated charmer, but she couldn’t control the sudden flutter of her heart or the warm feeling that started pulsing deep inside her belly.

“I suppose a dirty weekend is out of the question?” he asked.

Shelley laughed. “I like it when you’re gauche.”

He sighed. “Then I suppose I’ll have to settle for lunch. Your timing’s perfect, in fact. I was just getting hungry.”

“Wait a minute,” she said as he reached for his jacket. “Take care of my problem first, and
then
we’ll talk about lunch. Who’s this interpreter you’re going to get for me?”

“He’s an old friend of mine. We go way back.”

“Are you positive he can do the job?” she prodded. “It requires a very sophisticated level—”

“He’s a professor of English literature, Shelley, so I think it’s safe to say he’s up to the job. He’s also a US citizen now. I asked.”

“You asked? When did you ask?”

“A few days ago. I figured you’d need him. I told him to be ready to come to Cincinnati. I’ll have him call you this afternoon to make arrangements.”

“Where is he?”

“Berkeley.”

“California?”

“Yes. Can we go eat now? I’m starving,” Ross said, shrugging into his jacket.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute! He’s coming here from
California?”

“That’s what I just said, Shelley. Come on, stand up. Please don’t tell me you’re in the mood for Chinese again.”

“Who’s paying for it?” she demanded.

“My treat, I insist. Just don’t—”

“No,” she interrupted irritably, “who’s paying for your friend’s flight out here?”

“He is, I imagine. Unless he’s got an exceptionally rich and generous girlfriend these days. How does Italian strike you? Or maybe French?” Ross took her hand and started pulling her down the hallway, past the confusion in the lobby.

“Hey, Mr. Tanner,” said a workman. “Do you want to keep these chairs?”

“Good God, no. They look like they were bought at a garage sale.”

“You want we should throw them out?” the man asked.

“Yes, please do.”

“Ross! Why is he doing this?”

“He can’t throw things out without asking first,” Ross explained patiently.

“You know what I mean! Why is your friend—”

“Oh, him. He owes me a favor.”

“It must have been a pretty big favor.”

“It was. I wonder if we can get a table at the Maisonette at this time of day,” he mused, propelling her out the door.

“Ross!” Shelley yanked her arm out of his hand. “I... You... Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m hungry.”

She gritted her teeth in exasperation. “Why are you doing this for me?”
 

He smiled whimsically. “Let’s discuss it over lunch, shall we?”

The Maisonette was the best restaurant in Cincinnati. It was probably also the most expensive, which was why Shelley had never eaten there. Judging by the friendly greeting they got at the door and the way a table was quickly procured for them, Shelley guessed that Ross had already become a regular client there. Her suspicions were confirmed when the headwaiter addressed Ross by name.

The two men chatted in French for a few moments, Ross assuring him that the table was perfectly acceptable, particularly since he hadn’t reserved in advance. Then the waiter turned to Shelley and apologized in English for using a language she couldn’t understand.

“Mais ça ne fait rien. Elle parle français,”
Ross said and looked at Shelley for verification.
“C’est vrai que to le parle, n’est-ce pas?”

“Oui, mais comment est-ce que tu le savais?”
Shelley asked, wondering for the first time whether there was a report about her sitting on Ross’ desk.

“Chuck told me you’d been a language major at college,” Ross explained. “I just assumed you’d speak it.”

Ross exhibited those endearingly old-fashioned manners again when he ordered her food, acting as liaison between herself and the waiter. It was on the tip of her tongue to say it was silly for him to ask her what she wanted and then repeat it to the waiter as if she couldn’t speak for herself, but he did it with such a delicate touch of gallantry that she didn’t have the heart to spoil the scene.

When they were alone again, sipping their fabulous French wine and awaiting their first course, she said, “I’ve always wanted to come here. This hardly seems like I’m making fair payment for the favor you’re doing me.”

“Perhaps I should make you pick up the check,” he suggested evilly.

“Too late. I can’t afford it.” She tilted her head. “But I suppose you can. Henri Montpazier must pay you a lot to go around the world resuscitating his business empire.”

“He does. He pays according to merit rather than according to a fixed scale.”

She sighed, the wine loosening her up a bit. “I wish Babel did. They’re so inflexible about pay scales.”

He studied her thoughtfully as their appetizers were put before them.

Shelley looked down at her
pâté de venaison chaude en sauce poivrade.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” she murmured.

Ross grinned, enjoying her pleasure. “Don’t gobble,” he chided.

“Oh, gosh, this is good. I’ve never tasted anything so good,” she said in ecstasy.

“Can I have a taste?”

“Not on your life.” She shoved his hand away as he moved his fork toward her plate.

“I had no idea you were so greedy.”

“I had no idea food could be like this. What are you eating?” she asked.

“Salmis de faisan en caneton en feuilleté avec sauce aux truffes.”

“Gosh, that sounds good.”

“It’s just chicken potpie, only with pheasant and duck,” he replied.

“Give me a bite.” She reached across the table and took a forkful from him.

“Wait a minute,” he said in amusement. “Why can you eat mine but I can’t eat yours?”

“Because you get to come here all the time, and I never will again.”

“You could come here more often,” he said persuasively.

“With you?” she asked suspiciously.

He smiled. “That’s one possibility.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s the other?”

He leaned back in his chair and looked at her for a moment, a subtle smile playing around his mouth as he watched her devour both their appetizers.

“If you think watching me eat will make me shy, you’re dead wrong,” she told him. “In my family, you learned to dive in or go hungry.”

“You had a big family?”

She nodded and reached for more of his food. “I was the fourth of five girls.”

He raised his brows. “Did you all go to college?”

“Oh, yes. On scholarships and loans, mostly. I’m still paying mine back. My parents were very big on education. They weren’t able to go to college themselves, and they wanted us all to get a good education, good jobs, and financial security.”

“And were their plans realized?”

“Well... one of my sisters wants to be an actress, so she lives like a church mouse, and my oldest sister is an arts journalist in California. But the other two make good money. Aren’t you going to eat any of this?”

“In a minute.”

“There won’t be any left in a minute,” she warned him, taking another bite.

“What about you? Are you satisfied with your salary?” he prodded.

Shelley frowned. “I’m not sure I want to talk about this with you.”

“Actually, Shelley, I already know what you make. And it’s not nearly what you deserve.”

She looked at him in surprise. “How do you know my salary?”

“I have my sources.”
 

She shrugged after a moment. “Well, I suppose it’s hardly top secret. And I
do
deserve more.”

“You can have more, Shelley. I...
We
can offer you double what you make now. Plus an expense account, four weeks paid vacation, and full benefits. And that’s just to start with.”

Shelley put down her fork and stared at Ross in surprise. Her gray eyes grew round. “What?”

“I told you I’m looking for a new director for the language center. I want the most qualified, capable person I can find,” he said. “That’s you, Shelley.”

Astonishment washed through her, dulling her wits and stilling her tongue. She had always thought of Elite as her nemesis at best, and as a thoroughly unprofessional operation at worst. The possibility of working for them had never even entered her mind.