Unsettled (7 page)

My thoughts wandered back to Mr. Portly. The way he eyed me in our short exchange made me yearn for a large, sparkly piece of eye candy on my left ring finger to deter ineligible suitors, but entering into a relationship was not even on my radar. Nobody ever purchased damaged goods, anyway.

I fished my ear buds and iPhone out of the tote bag that my sister Danielle gave me last December on my trip home for Christmas. I jammed my ear buds into place and let Six60 lull me into serenity with their soulful ballad
Forever
. A few minutes later, I heard the conductor’s voice crackle through the loud speaker: “Farragut North Station, approaching,” over my low music.

I gathered my purse and made my way to the train car doors passing Goldilocks and her brood on the way. I knew it was wrong to judge her, especially when I was hardly the master of my universe. I was driving a fourteen-year-old car, shopping at thrift stores, and getting hit on by a man who must’ve been in his mid-forties on public transportation at an ungodly hour. If my current situation were any indication of my future, I’d likely be joining the starry-eyed puppets I internally mocked daily very soon.

I stepped onto the yellow bumps on the train stage, knowing my eight-hour day with Trent was on the horizon. Too bad it was only Monday.

SINCE I ARRIVED AT
work early I was able to complete my arduous tasks earlier than usual. After an hour of pounding on my keyboard, my desk phone rang. I grabbed the receiver out of the cradle, checking the caller ID. I smiled when I recognized the phone number as Danielle’s. Talking to her was always a welcome relief from the monotony of my day job.

“Copple Marketing, Brooklyn speaking. How may I help you?” I said, choking back a low giggle. I always used the same salutation for every call so nosey co-workers like Anna would not be able to identify if I was on a personal call immediately.

“Hey! What are you doing? Ugh… I hate my boss…he’s an incompetent tool,” she said into the phone, exhaling deeply after her tirade. I visualized Danielle leaning back in her desk chair, phone receiver propped to her ear, and picking her nails with her letter opener in pure leisurely fashion.

“Well that’s nothing new. You’ve despised him since he got that promotion over you based purely on seniority,” I retorted teasingly.

Danielle was a Senior VP in the finance industry. She’d done very well for herself through my eyes. She offered to help me get a job at her firm but I found the financing industry to be rather drab. Sitting behind a desk reviewing endless spreadsheets didn’t captivate my attention. That was probably why I despised my no-thrills position at Copple.

“Yeah I was fired up when that happened…that was pure BS. All he does all day is chat on the phone to the architect who is building his house in Oregon. I’d love to make two hundred thousand a year to do that,” she huffed, disdained. “Whatever…enough about him, I was calling to let you know that Gilt is having a sale on Sam Edelman shoes today. You should check it out.”

“Oh really?” I asked excitedly. I loved purchasing Sam Edelman shoes; they were ridiculously comfortable and super chic. I could only afford them when the cost had been deeply slashed though.

“What’s the Web address again?” I whispered into the receiver.

“www.gilt.com,” she responded. “Hurry…the sale is ending soon!”

“Okay…hold on a sec…” I said, typing and juggling my receiver. I stealthily logged onto the website, ensuring none of my coworkers were directly behind me. It was great that Trent insisted on a privacy screen for my computer monitor to protect proprietary information—not that my shoe fetish was proprietary information…

Danielle and I reviewed the only three pairs of shoes that weren’t sold out and came in a boat size ten.

“Check out the Zara pump, those are so you,” I murmured to Danielle.

“Those are cute!” she cried.

As I scrolled through other sale windows on the site, a constant crackling repeated down the phone line.

“It seems like we’re getting a lot of static.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Danielle replied.

“You don’t? I keep hearing a rustling noise.”

“Oh…that’s just me trying to locate my ATM card in my dirty purse…I seriously need to downgrade my bag size.”

“You are too much!” I chuckled into the receiver. “I think I need to turn you into Shopaholics Anonymous.”

“Yeah, I’ll go when you do,” she rebutted.

“What? I don’t have a shopping problem! I’ve been trying to convert you to thrift stores for years!” I cried out, turning to make sure nobody heard me.

“No you don’t, but you could afford to loosen the purse strings a little bit. Shop at a nationwide clothes retailer now and again,” she remarked. Danielle had great fashion sense, but unlike her, I didn’t like purchasing unnecessary items. My mom always said that the difference between Danielle and I was that I could hold on to every penny, whereas Danielle couldn’t. She routinely spent her allowance on clothes and was then broke until the next month.

“Oh come on. I don’t buy my entire wardrobe at thrift stores, and I do splurge on occasion. I just purchased a mattress for your information. That was a huge splurge.”

“Really…a mattress…that’s your big move?” she teased.

“That mattress was fifteen hundred dollars! I’d call that quite a splurge!” I responded defensively.

“If you say so,” she replied, resigned to my adamancy.

After looking at the auction prices, as usual, I decided against purchasing any shoes since ninety-dollars on a set of pumps wasn’t in my monthly budget. I made a mental note to check online again in a month to see if the price dropped.

Danielle and I compared notes on a few other styles and after a couple more minutes of oohing and awing, we ended our call.

At nine o’clock an Outlook calendar reminder popped up on my screen. There was a concept meeting with LSC Capital Construction at ten that morning. A bit baffled, I checked the company calendar to verify that the information displayed on my screen was in fact correct. To my chagrin an additional meeting had been added to the morning docket in the main conference room.

Suppressing an inward groan, I began the tedious task of collating Copple Marketing press kits, changing the sign outside of the conference room to read “Welcome LSC Capital Construction,” wiping down the leather chairs and red cherry wood table, and ordering coffee and pastries from Muffins coffee shop. Thankfully, Donnie, the catering manager, had one of his staff deliver the food I ordered. Donnie told me before that he only delivered for me since I gave their storefront a boost in business by ordering refreshments through their small shop.

The one thing I despised more than making Trent’s coffee was playing sous chef and waitress to spoiled account executives. When I applied for my position of marketing assistant online, I failed to recall the description mentioning waiting hand and foot on groups of bloviating idiots who sat around a table coaxing one another to sign boiler plate non-disclosure agreements. I definitely didn’t need to have earned my masters in Communications to serve tea and crumpets. Even though I had an advanced degree, the right opportunity just hadn't presented itself yet.

I finally finished setting up the conference room fifteen minutes before the meeting began and headed back toward my desk.

I was in the middle of Powerpoint presentation edits when my desk phone rang. I picked up the phone, while saving my edits.

“Good morning, Brooklyn—” I began. I was abruptly cut off.

“We need more coffee and water for our meeting,” Trent barked into the phone, then hung up before awaiting my response.

“Asshole,” I murmured under my breath as I placed the receiver back in the cradle.

I made a beeline to the kitchen to brew more sludge and gather more water bottles and fill the backup coffee carafe.

I entered the conference room quietly, trying not to disturb the flowing conversation and hoping to go undetected.

“Well gents, if everyone is present, let’s start, shall we?” I heard Trent say, as I gingerly placed a water bottle in the serving basket.

“We should probably wait a few more minutes. Our CEO is stuck in traffic. I just received a text from him,” a stocky male in a navy suit and black tie replied.

With an indulgent chuckle, Trent responded, “Oh of course, that isn’t a problem at all, Scott. I suppose I am just eager to commence a prosperous business relationship with LSC Capital Construction.”

I focused on organizing coffee cups as I discreetly rolled my eyes at Trent’s brownnosing. I was mindlessly refilling the coffee stirrer dispenser when a man’s voice broke my faux concentration.

“I apologize for my tardiness, gentlemen. The traffic on the interstate was horrendous.” Surprise registered on my face when I lifted my head and saw Logan crossing the area of the conference room to shake Trent, Ed, and Ron’s hands courteously.

“Good morning, sir! It is so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things about your company.”

Of course Trent wasted no time sucking right up to Logan like a leech on a vein.

“Logan Colton. Likewise, Trent.”

I had flipped through articles about
Logan Colton, entrepreneur
in magazines laying around the office, but as Logan crossed the meeting room I realized the young big shot making headlines and the man I ran into on the street the other day were the same person. In my defense I’d never actually seen what he looked like. If the bylines in the articles would have read “smoking hot and sexy as hell CEO” accompanied by a lithe male with sexy, bedroom eyes, there was no way I would have gotten confused.
Trust me.

Logan was donning a black-pleated front, two-button suit and burgundy tie. His tailored suit accentuated his tall frame. The fabric wrapped nicely around his athletic body and well-defined arm muscles. I had to give it to him, the man knew how to dress.

I snapped out of admiring Logan and swiftly returned to organizing the refreshment table, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me.

“Ms. Caldwell, I see we meet again,” Logan said, shooting me a crooked smile from across the room.

“Mr. Colton, nice to see you again as well,” I replied in an overly pleasant tone. Trent immediately tossed a questioning stare in my direction. Thanks to Logan’s salutation, I was sure Trent would barrage me with questions regarding how we knew one another.
Yay—something else to look forward to
, I thought to myself.

“I see you’ve met my assistant,” Trent interjected in his snooty way, letting the last word linger. Trent would never pass an opportunity to reiterate my place within the company. “If you need a fresh cup of coffee, she’s your gal!” I wanted to slap Trent silly, but as usual, I held my urge.

“I’m sure Ms. Caldwell has multiple talents. You’re lucky to have such a bright young woman on your staff,” Logan replied coolly. I think both Trent and I were shocked at his response, me more so, since Logan didn’t know the first thing about me, or my competencies.

“Yes…yes she is…very bright,” Trent replied. I could tell he was attempting to keep the callousness out of his voice. I knew it bothered him that someone actually thought I was capable.

“Thank you Mr. Colton,” I said.

“I insist that you call me Logan…please…we’re no longer strangers,” he said, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I forgot, sorry,” I replied, embarrassed at how I had dastardly accused the CEO of a potentially lucrative Copple client of being a stalker. In my mind, I was silently praying for death to escape the awkward situation, and unfortunately for me Trent had been following my not-so-private conversation with Logan like a tennis ball in a tourney. On cue, Trent interjected into the conversation.

“Well Logan, why don’t we let Brooklyn get back to her work, and we can proceed to hatch out a prosperous deal between our two entities,” he said giddily. I could see the dollar signs in Trent’s eyes. He was so transparent.

“I will be there in a minute Trent” Logan said, blowing off Trent’s invitation. Logan regarded Trent as if he was rudely interrupting our conversation. His muted green eyes donned shutters in Trent’s presence.

“Oh…all right…my apologies,” Trent responded, puzzled.

My subconscious cheered loudly. For the first and only time, I got to witness Trent cower and I wished I had it on video to replay again and again. Hopefully the new memory wouldn’t fade anytime soon.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Logan said, turning back to me.

“Just doing my job,” I said, brushing off his praise.

Trent made another attempt to get the discussions under way and led Logan back to the conference room table, and I headed out of the room to leave the men to their egotistical powwow.

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