Kat Cantrell – Playing Mr. Right (страница 2)

Therefore, a five-hundred-thousand-dollar watch now sat in his jewelry box, unworn. Talk about a waste. But he’d left it there in hopes of garnering some of that mythical respect. Instead, he’d met brick wall after brick wall in the form of Marjorie, who had rallied the troops to hate him as much as she did. And then she’d quit, leaving Xavier holding the bag. Literally.

Yesterday, he’d worked in the food pantry, stocking shopping bags the hungry people LBC served could grab and go. The families took prepacked boxes. Once a day, LBC served a meal, but Xavier stayed out of the kitchen. Jennifer Sanders, the meal services manager, had that well under control and also agreed with the popular opinion that Val walked on water, so anything Xavier did paled in comparison.

Like he did every morning, Xavier retreated to his office. Val’s office, really, but Xavier had redecorated. He’d ordered the walls painted and new furniture installed because if this was going to be his domain, it shouldn’t remind him every second that Val had been here first—and done it better.

Xavier pushed around the enormous amount of paperwork that a charity generated until his brother popped through the door. Thank God. Xavier had started to wonder if Val would actually show up for their planned meeting about the missing services manager. After Marjorie stormed out, the majority of the day-to-day operations management fell to Xavier and that left precious little time to plan fundraisers that he desperately needed to organize.

Val had offered to help with the interview process, which had been a lifeline Xavier had gladly snagged, without telling his brother how much he needed that help. If the terms of his father’s will had taught him anything, it was not to trust a soul, not even family.

“Sorry I’m late.” Val strolled into his former office and made a face at the walls, flipping his too-long hair out of his eyes. “If you were going to paint, at least you could have picked a color other than puke green.”

“It’s sage. Which is soothing.”

It was nothing of the sort and did not resemble the color swatch the decorator had showed him in the slightest. But Xavier had to live with it, apparently, because LBC didn’t have a lot of extra money for frivolous things like painting. When he’d tried to use his own money, Marjorie had flipped out and cited a hundred and forty-seven reasons that was a bad idea. Mostly what he’d gotten out of her diatribe was that LBC had a negative audit in their rearview and thus had multiple microscopes pointed at their books.

Meaning Xavier needed to watch his step.

“Who do we have on tap today?” Val asked pleasantly as he sprawled in one of the chairs ringing the director’s desk that Xavier sat behind.

No one was fooled by the desk. Xavier didn’t direct much of anything. He would have claimed to be a smart man prior to this inheritance test, but LBC had slowly stripped away his confidence. At his normal job, he ran a billion-dollar company that was one of the most highly respected jewelry operations in the world. LeBlanc was synonymous with diamonds. He could point to triumph after triumph in his old world. This new one? Still Val’s baby even though Xavier’s brother was currently helming LeBlanc Jewelers with flair.

Xavier stopped his internal whining and picked up the single résumé on his desk. “After you ruled out the others, this is the only one. The candidate has experience similar to Marjorie’s but with a women’s shelter. So probably she’s a no-go. I want someone with food-pantry experience.”

“Well, that’s your call.” Val’s tone held a tinge of disapproval, as if wanting someone with experience was the height of craziness. “Do you mind if I look at it?”

He handed the résumé to Val, who glanced over it, his lips pursed.

“This Laurel Dixon is the only new résumé you’ve got?” Val asked.

“From people who are remotely qualified, yeah. So far. I posted the job to the usual sites but we’ve had very little response.”

Val pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not good. I wonder if our little inheritance experiment has made the rounds. I would have expected more applicants, but if you’ve scared off all the candidates, I’m going to be in a world of hurt when I step back into my position here.”

That stung, but Xavier didn’t let it show. He never did. He’d learned to school his emotions at Edward LeBlanc’s knee from an early age. CEOs didn’t wear their hearts on their sleeves or they lost the respect of their workers. That lesson had served him well—until his father had upended everything in one fell swoop.

“This is not my fault,” Xavier responded evenly, though Val’s point wasn’t lost on him. Marjorie. Again. He wouldn’t put it past her to have poisoned the well of potential applicants, but there was no way to fix that now. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame Dad.”

Val’s expression didn’t change as he waved the résumé. “We should interview this candidate. What other choice do you have? No one says you have to keep her if she doesn’t work out.”

“Fine.”

Xavier picked up the phone and left a message at the number listed on the résumé. He didn’t have time to argue the point or let his feelings get in a twist because Val was throwing his weight around. This was all temporary, and as Val had so eloquently pointed out, he’d be back in the saddle again soon, anyway. Little that Xavier did would make a difference in the long run.

Since they didn’t have much regarding Marjorie’s replacement to meet about, after all, Val apparently thought that was a license to ask a few barbed questions about how things were going operationally at LBC. They were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door.

Adelaide, the admin who had been a disciple of Marjorie’s, poked her head into the office with a sweet smile for Val. If he hadn’t seen it himself, Xavier wouldn’t have believed she knew how to smile.

“There’s a Laurel Dixon here to see you,” she said. “About the position.”

Xavier had called her less than thirty minutes ago and he’d said nothing about coming by. Only that he’d like to schedule an interview.

“No notice,” he said quietly to Val. “That’s a little bold, don’t you think?”

It tripped his sixth sense and not in a good way. Downtown Chicago was not known for having great traffic patterns, so either she lived really close by or had already been on her way here.

Val raised his brows in challenge. “I’m already impressed. That’s the kind of go-getting I like.”

Of course he’d say that and manage to make it sound like Xavier was in the wrong at the same time. “I’d rather send her away and schedule a real interview. After I’ve had time to go over her qualifications.”

“She’s here.” Val shrugged. “What’s there to go over? If you’re unsure, I’ll do the talking.”

“I can talk,” Xavier fairly growled. “I just don’t like surprises.”

Or anyone stepping on his toes, which was what he got for stupidly mentioning to his brother that Marjorie’s exodus had caught him sideways. Val had taken full advantage of that show of weakness, too, storming in here like a victorious hero and earning adoring glances from his staff.

Val just grinned and flipped hair out of his face in true slacker fashion. “I’m aware. Don’t sweat it. I came by to handle this problem. Let me handle it.”

When hell froze over. “We’ll both interview her. Adelaide, show her in.”

Val didn’t even bother to move to another chair like a normal person would. You positioned yourself behind the desk as a show of authority. Val probably didn’t even know how to spell authority. That’s why his staff loved him, because he treated them all like equals. Except everyone was not equal. Someone had to be in charge, make the hard decisions.

And that person was Xavier, for better or worse. Val could step aside. This was still Xavier’s office for three more months.

Laurel Dixon walked into the room and Xavier forgot about Val, LBC...his own name. Everything else in the world went dim. Except for her.

The woman following Adelaide looked nothing like Marjorie, that was for sure. She looked nothing like any woman Xavier had ever met. Long, lush sable-colored hair hung down her back, but that only held his attention for a split second. Her face was arresting, with piercing silvery-gray eyes that locked onto his and wouldn’t let go.

Something otherworldly passed between them and it was so fanciful a feeling that Xavier shook it off instantly. He didn’t do otherworldly, whatever the hell that even meant. Never had he used such a term in his life to describe anything. But nothing else fit, and that made the whole encounter suspect. Besides, it was ridiculous to have any sort of reaction to a woman outside of desire, and even that was rarely strong enough for Xavier to note. Most, if not all, of his encounters with females could be described as mildly pleasurable, at best.

This woman had trouble written all over her if she could elicit such a response by merely walking into a room.

Coupled with the fact that she’d shown up without an appointment—Laurel Dixon raised his hackles about ten degrees past uncomfortable.