Acquiring Mr. Right

Or maybe the change was momentous only to her, she mused sardonically.

Memories of other changes in her life flooded into her mind. When she was nine, her mom and stepfather had divorced. On a snowy night that same winter he’d died in a car crash. Six months later her mom had gotten in the way of a stray bullet when one angry neighbor shot another and had also died. As a runaway from foster care, her tenth year had been a period of uncertainty, always looking over her shoulder, never knowing what was going to happen next and feeling that life was as tenuous as a cobweb.

While she couldn’t exactly define the reasons, she felt somewhat like that now—unsure and anxious about the future.

She was no longer that child, she grimly reminded herself as she pulled into the parking lot at the plant. No one could push her around. And no corporate raider was going to intimidate her.

Nodding her head decisively, she parked in her usual place under the shade of the oak tree in the far back corner of the large lot and strode to the office.

Upstairs, VIP Row was unusually quiet.

When Krista entered the CFO office suite, her secretary was hanging up her jacket. “Good morning, Tiff.”

Krista had inherited the secretary from the last CFO. After a rocky start, Tiffany Adams—late forties, divorced, one grown son—had transferred her loyalty to the new boss and now they worked together as a close-knit team.

Tiff nodded toward the end office. “Something’s going on,” she said in a low, ominous manner.

“I know.” Krista checked the wall clock. She had twenty minutes before the staff meeting. “I’m going to introduce the new owner to the managers this morning.”

“New owner!” the other woman said in a shocked whisper.

“Shh,” Krista warned, nodding toward the open door. “I’ll tell you all about it after the meeting.” She went into her office.

Frowning, she realized she’d forgotten to lock her desk after the shock of meeting Lance Carrington yesterday. She gathered the financial reports, the cash flow estimates and projected earnings before exiting through the private door that connected the conference room to her office.

The elegant meeting space with its carved walnut table and twelve executive chairs separated her suite from that of the chief executive’s. Coffee, she noted, was brewing in the silver urn on the credenza.

She wondered if Thea, the CEO’s secretary, was in yet and if James had warned her of the pending changes. The woman was in her sixties and had worked there for more than forty years. Totally loyal to the big boss, she’d watched out for his interests like a pit bull.

A light was on inside the end office and Krista could see the outline of a person moving about in there through the frosted glass of the adjoining door.

She stopped in the act of placing copies of her reports at each manager’s seat and stared at the masculine figure who seemed to alternate between pacing and staring out the windows at the scenery.

Was Carrington…Lance, she corrected…nervous about the meeting?

Hmm, she couldn’t picture that. He was hard-edged and confident. Besides, he held all the winning cards in this venture, whatever it was to him.

While she was still staring at the indistinct figure through the glass, the door swung inward. He filled the opening like the hero in a movie close-up, backlit by the windows behind him and appearing bigger than life.

“Good morning,” he said, coming into the conference room and closing the door.

The odd impressions—that of him being nervous or being a super screen hero—fled. He was once more just a man, handsome and dynamic, yes, but not overpowering.

Well, not totally overpowering.

“Good morning.” She finished her task, then hesitated, not sure where she should sit.

“Here’s where you sit,” Lance said, as if reading her mind. He pulled out the chair at one end of the table.

That was Mason’s place, when he deigned to be present, but she didn’t say anything. She supposed, like his father, he was now out of the company.

Lance pulled the chair back for her as she approached. Closer to him, she became aware of him in a whole new way.

In fact, her senses seemed keenly in tune today. First of all, he smelled really, really good. Visually, he looked cosmopolitan in a suit of medium gray with a thin navy blue stripe, a navy shirt and a silk tie of silvery gray. Looking at him almost made her dizzy. It was the oddest sensation.

Frowning at the reaction, she quickly placed her folders on the table and went to the coffee urn. He followed right behind her.

Ignoring the pastries on a silver server, she filled a china cup and returned to her seat.

The new boss also rejected the rich Danish rolls and muffins. Taking his cup, he sat at the opposite end of the table. “Nice day,” he said.

“Yes. The sunshine is…nice.” At that brilliant start, she almost groaned aloud.

Glancing down the shining length of the conference table, she detected a gleam in his eyes. A smile swept over his face, changing him from the serious tycoon to a coconspirator in an intrigue still to be played out.

His eyes no longer seemed wintry to her as they had yesterday. Instead they were cordial.

Inviting.

Intimate.

The warmth in those depths reached inside her, making her aware of things she hadn’t considered in a long time…a sense of security, the way she’d felt as a teenager growing up in Uncle Jeff’s home. And something more…

She shook her head to rid herself of the new sensation. While James had listened when she explained the financial situation, he had been impatient with her ideas for change. Maybe this new CEO would think her suggestions brilliant and let her try some of them.

The absurdity of that idea hit her. A corporate raider, who’d probably leveraged the buyout so that the company was now also in debt up to its neck, letting her have her way?

She forced her gaze to the documents she’d prepared while her heart pounded out a salsa beat in her ears. The arrival of the eight managers helped still the sudden, unexplained tumult.

From their quick glances at Lance, then her, she knew they’d already heard about the new man in the boss’s office and knew something unusual was up. Following ritual, they filled their coffee cups and took their seats. They, too, ignored the treats that were usually a big hit and gone before the meeting was over.

“Good morning,” she said with a calm smile, standing and taking charge as Lance shot her a glance down the table that told her to do so.

Right. She was to introduce him. Which made her feel rather like some kind of Judas to the old order of things.

“By now, each of you are aware of changes in the company, so I won’t keep you in suspense.”

She introduced Lance as the head of CCS and announced the sale of Heymyer to the other company. Varying degrees of shock and alarm flashed into the men’s faces and were gone. They could have been statues, they sat so still.

Starting on Lance’s right, she introduced the six general managers, who had charge of specific production areas, and the two marketing managers, who reported to the vice president, which had been Mason up until yesterday.

Krista glanced at the two empty chairs. James’s secretary normally sat on his left side and took notes at the meetings. Had Lance told her she wasn’t needed today? And was Mason still the VP? She could see similar questions in the men’s eyes.

Changes. Sometimes they were for the good. If Lance meant what he’d said about not closing the place, then all would be well. Maybe.

“I’ll turn the meeting over to our new CEO,” she finished and sat down.

All eyes turned to the other end of the table.

“Acting CEO,” he said, still seated, his manner casual. “Heymyer will be a subsidiary of CCS, the same as Applied Controls.”

Krista recalled the original computer control company had been spun off CCS as its own corporate entity, its shares retained by the parent company, and renamed.

“As with our other companies, Heymyer will have its own CEO. First of all, no changes are imminent. Rumors will abound, but each of you should assure your employees that there are no plans to close the plant. The work schedule will continue as usual. I know the change of ownership will be unsettling to a degree, but I don’t expect production to drop during the transition,” he told them.

His manner was as reassuring as his statements, which were delivered in a confident, decisive tone. Whatever had caused him to pace his office earlier like a restless tiger was well hidden. Or put out of his mind altogether.

She tended to do that—concentrate so fiercely on one thing that everything else disappeared—much to the annoyance of some men she’d dated. Her one serious relationship had ended in failure. Truth was, she wasn’t sure what men wanted, but she wanted someone who really meant forever when he spoke of love.

Her glance went to the new owner. Not someone like him, she quickly asserted, as if he’d been put forward as an example. By nature, a raider was a hit-and-run specialist.

“For the foreseeable future,” Lance was saying, “there will be lots of meetings between this team and the CCS board and executive staff while we work out the integration of goals and procedures.”

And then, she thought, his staff will know the company inside out and can dispense with us.

She studied the eight managers, all listening with serious expressions on their faces. Six had been there long enough to retire with full pensions. The other two, one in his late forties, the other in his mid-fifties, hadn’t. Where would they go?

For the next three hours, Lance asked for reports from each person at the table. When she explained the cash flow problems resulting from the lost contract, she knew by his questions and the keen intelligence in his eyes that he understood the situation at once. Also that James hadn’t mentioned this latest bit of news.

“They canceled the order the day before the breach-of-contract penalties kicked in?” he asked.

Understanding flashed between them as they exchanged glances. She would share her concerns about that contract when they were alone.

Shortly after eleven, the new boss seemed satisfied with the reports. “I have one other announcement,” he said, his gaze on her.

A startled throb jolted to life inside her.

“Krista, will you come here, please?”

Her first thought was that he was going to fire her, right there in front of everyone. The next was that he wouldn’t do a thing like that. He’d asked her to stay six months, and they’d shook on it. He was too much the smart businessman to renege on a deal or shake up the managers in that way.

She rose and walked to the other end of the table, eight pairs of eyes burning holes in her head the whole way. If the men were half as confused by this request as she was, then they were all in for a surprise.

When she stood beside Lance, he smiled that megawatt smile that changed him to movie star handsome. It was a total contrast to the serious, probing manner exhibited during the long meeting.

She smiled back with a lot more confidence than she felt. She didn’t like the unexpected, and she felt she was in for more aftershocks from him.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. Krista felt the heat burning into her flesh. It spread along her arm, her back, down into the innermost parts of her. Taken aback, she shifted away. The fingers tightened, just a fraction, just enough to hold her.

“While I’ll be the acting CEO at present, Krista will be the Chief Operating Officer in addition to her other duties,” he said. “She’ll handle all day-to-day decisions and you’ll report to her as of now.”

For the second time in two days, she was taken completely off guard.

Lance glanced at Krista after he parked at the Rosevale Grand Inn. When he’d told her he’d arranged lunch for them at the inn so they wouldn’t be interrupted while they talked, she’d agreed readily enough. However, like the elderly secretary who guarded the CEO’s door, she hadn’t exactly been thrilled at his plans.

“This way,” he said, placing a hand in the small of her back to guide her to the garden pathway that led to the terrace, now used as an extension of the restaurant. It was his favorite place to dine and think things through.

The waitress, a friendly redhead who’d joked with him during the many weekends he’d spent there of late, smiled as he went to his usual table, glanced at Krista, then gave him a mock scowl as if reprimanding him for arriving with another woman.

Krista, he saw, noted the byplay but kept any reaction to herself.

“I’ve been staying here almost every weekend while deciding whether to add Heymyer to our holdings, also during the negotiations.” He explained the familiarity, then wondered why he had.

He rarely justified his actions and choices to anyone anymore, figuring that was his private business.

His grandfather’s tyrannical voice suddenly echoed in his head. “Just what is the reason for this B on your report card?”

“What is the meaning of this speeding ticket?”

“You’re taking who to the dance? She’s nobody—”

“So was my mother,” Lance had dared to say at seventeen, as he headed for the door. “But your son still married her.”

“He was a fool,” Claude Carrington had shouted after him. “I warned him…”

But Lance hadn’t heard the rest. He’d left the hated library where his grandfather called him on the carpet at regular intervals, and he’d never looked back.

Glancing at the lovely woman across the table, he realized if he’d kowtowed to his grandfather’s wishes to join his investment firm, he would never have started his own company, might never have met this woman.

Now that would have been a shame, as she was easily one of the most intriguing people he’d met in a long time, whether male or female.

“I looked you up on the Internet last night,” she said. “There wasn’t a lot of information in the financial magazines. You’ve only given one in-depth interview that I could find.”

“That damned article,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “I should never have allowed it.”

“So why did you?” she asked, openly curious.

“It was for a friend. He needed to prove he had access to people the editor couldn’t otherwise get. We were roommates at college so I agreed.”

“An Ivy League college. Honors. Top ten percent of your class,” she reiterated as if reading his accomplishments on a tickertape.

A slight shifting in that cold place that existed deep within his psyche ruffled his enjoyment of sparring with this woman who watched him as closely as he did her.

He shrugged. “My grandfather’s alma mater. I had no choice.”

Into his mind’s eye sprang an image—that of a young woman, one who’d once been beautiful beyond compare but now looked weary and worn out.

His mother.

Sober for the first time in months, his parents had stood silently in the corridor outside the courtroom where his grandfather had just won custody of him.

His mother had stooped and looked directly into his eyes while his dad had stared stonily at his grandfather. “We’ll get you back,” she’d said. “Your father and I…we’ll change. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

“Okay,” he’d said, believing her.

“Be a good boy,” she’d whispered, squeezing his shoulders. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. You and Dad.”

She’d hugged him and kissed him, her tears spilling all over his face, until his grandfather had pulled him away and marched him out of the courthouse.

He would never forget that day. His tenth birthday. The last time he’d seen either of his parents alive.

Lance pushed the image into the place that, as a child, he’d imagined as a cold storage locker, a place where old memories could be safely hidden.

“CEO of your own company at twenty-two,” she continued. “Fortune has smiled on your every endeavor.”

Returning to the present, he assumed a mockingly cheerful air. “Yeah, I’m used to getting my own way. Don’t cross me. A tantrum isn’t a pretty sight.”

After the waitress gave them menus, his guest studied him for a minute. “I don’t think you’re the type for tantrums. You’re much more subtle than that. Like now.”

“Now?”

“You used a change in subject to distract me from further probing into your life. This morning you got exactly what you wanted, too. By having me introduce you to the managers, it sounded as if I’d checked you out and approved of the changes.”

She saw more than he liked, but then he’d already figured out how sharp she was. “So why did you let me?”

She shrugged. “My choice was walking out or sticking it out. I agreed on the latter.”

“And you keep your word,” he concluded.

“I try. Do you?”

Her manner was a cover, the surface amusement hiding her doubts about him. He reached across the table and laid a hand over hers for emphasis. “Always.”

When he settled back in his chair, he realized he wanted to touch her, to take her up to his room—

Damn, maybe it hadn’t been the most brilliant idea to bring her to the inn. This was where he spent his private hours, even if most of that time was dedicated to reading reports. Their lunch was business, part of his public persona. Those two things, the personal and the public, should never merge, in his opinion.

“Why am I now chief of operations as well as finance?” she asked, her mind obviously having no problem focusing on work and its problems.

The answer was easy. “You know the company.”

“So do all the other executives, six of whom have been there thirty years or more.”

The waitress placed tall glasses of raspberry iced tea on the table and told them the day’s specials.

“I’ll take the salmon. Mixed green salad, house dressing on the side,” he ordered, impatient with the interruption.

“The same,” Krista said in an identical tone.

The redhead rolled her eyes, jotted the info on her pad, took the unopened menus and left.

“Do you always order like that?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“With little thought.”

She studied him as if this might be a trick question, then she shrugged. “I enjoy good food, but it isn’t my reason for living.”

“But work is?”

“It’s a large part of most people’s lives. It helps keep body and soul together, you might say.”

The droll smile that touched her lips caused the slight dimples to appear. Her eyes were darker in the shade of the terrace’s white-glazed glass roof and mysterious, her true thoughts hidden as she observed him.

“So, do I get a raise along with the added responsibilities?” she questioned, a challenge in the amused tone.

“Yes.”

Her eyebrows went up at the flat statement.

“I believe in paying people what they’re worth,” he said. “I think you’re going to be worth a lot. To the company.” He wasn’t sure if the clarifying phrase was meant for her or himself.

The interest that had begun while studying her orderly financial statements and the many memos outlining her ideas for the company had blossomed into an attraction upon meeting her yesterday. Today her professional and personal sides had combined into one very interesting package.

He wondered if she kept those two parts as separate as he did…as he usually did. He mentally frowned and forced his thoughts to Heymyer Home Appliances, which was the reason they were here.

“If you could do anything you wanted at the company,” he began, “what would be the first change you would make?”

She was silent for a moment before she said, “There wouldn’t be one thing. Several changes would have to work together. New product lines. New equipment. New production processes.” She paused, her eyes on the tiny rosebuds in a vase on the table. The long, lovely sweep of lashes lifted as she looked at him. “New money.”

“Work up a proposal. I want the business turned around in six months.”

She stared at him, then a slow smile started at the corners of her mouth and ended with a sparkle in her eyes. “I can give it to you now verbatim.”

During the next two hours, they went over several of her ideas. As he listened, Lance found he liked her spunk, her enthusiasm, her wide-ranging intelligence.

If the owners of the company had listened to some of her “dingbat notions,” they might have saved the business from his takeover.

As far as Lance could determine, Heymyer’s wife, who held the title of secretary, was in Florida visiting her mother and sister. Their thirty-nine-year-old son operated out of their New York office. He’d been the vice president and in charge of marketing. Neither had done much good for the business that furnished their living, or so it appeared to him.

From going over the company’s records before making an offer, he’d concluded that only Heymyer and the CFO were avidly involved. The home appliance manufacturer needed modernizing, a fact that Krista understood well.

“New lines,” she now told him in her earnest manner. “I’m thinking of a hip name, like Uptown. Anyway, the shapes would be modern. And the colors, we should go wild with the colors—jewel tones, pastels, retro shades.”

Her graceful, expressive eyebrows rose as if she had her arguments down pat in case he disagreed. She drew outlines in the air as she described new items.

When she hesitated, he nodded and smiled encouragement. The new company would fit in nicely with the original one he’d acquired, with the help of a sizable inheritance from his grandmother, shortly after he’d graduated from college.

His grandfather had been furious, but Lance had made that business a success and therefore hadn’t had to accept any help from his only living relative. Only a sense of duty pushed him into visiting the old tyrant a few times a year.

For a second, he drifted back in time to those months when he’d thought his parents would come for him, when he’d believed in them with all his heart and soul. But his father had run off a bridge, his blood alcohol level twice that allowed by law, two months after the custody battle. And his mother…

The pain of the moment when he’d learned of her death swept over him. She’d died of pneumonia that winter, alone and forgotten by everyone but him.

From that day forward, he’d kept his feelings under wraps. He’d loved his grandmother, a gentle woman who’d tended her house and gardens with quiet joy, but he’d never let himself become dependent on anyone again—

God, he didn’t know why those old memories had returned to haunt him at this late date. At thirty-four, with nearly thirteen years’ experience behind him, he’d taken five failing companies under the CCS banner and made them into viable projects. He would do the same with this one.

None of the other five had been as interesting as this one promised to be, though. Perhaps because of the CFO and her brilliant mind and very feminine allure?

James had thought she should stick to balance sheets and leave the ideas to him. “She wants to put computers in toasters, for God’s sake,” the old man had said, shaking his head. He’d thought her ideas foolish because she’d wanted to make the appliances more versatile, to put computer chips in them to control the temperatures and cook times and make it possible to add features the old owner had never dreamed of.

Lance let his gaze drift over her as he listened, her lovely face filled with enthusiasm and energy. He liked her ideas and the way she challenged him, making him see the possibilities through her eyes.

Most of all, he liked being surprised by those little dimples that appeared when she smiled….

Chapter Three

Krista arrived at work thirty minutes later than normal, thanks to a flat tire. The low-slung red sports car was already in the CEO spot. Her heart thumped like a mad drummer, which quite annoyed her as she crossed the parking lot.