Crazy About Her Impossible Boss

Without them would he have been standing there in his huge corner office? Would he have had the gumption to land Louis Fournier as a client? As a mentor? As a friend?

He heard Lucinda’s laughter from beyond the glass wall and he turned away from the mood board. She’d pinch him if she heard him speak that way about the business. Literally. She’d growl at him to “chillax”. To appreciate all he’d accomplished. To enjoy the spoils.

His partners had no problem revelling in the benefits of their success. The highlight for Fitz had been when they’d been written up in GQ. Charlie’s highlight had come when the university from which he’d graduated with his doctorate in mathematics had enlisted him to manage their financial matters.

Angus’s one bright, shining moment?

It hadn’t hit him yet. Or, more precisely, for him it wasn’t about a moment. It was about moving forward. Stopping to look back, even for a moment, could halt the momentum he’d worked so hard to achieve. So he’d keep working. Keep striving. Keep kicking hard beneath the surface to make sure it continued.

Voices drifted through the glass door leading from Lucinda’s desk to his as Lucinda waved Louis into the office. Angus moved to meet them halfway.

“Gus,” said the older gentleman, a glint in his eye, and a goodly dose of French still in his accent despite his years spent in Australia. “Good of you to squeeze me in this morning.”

Angus’s gaze slid to Lucinda who was quietly shutting the door behind her. “Did you flirt him into calling me that?”

She opened her eyes wide and mouthed, “Who me?”

At which Louis scoffed. “You do not answer to Gus? I am an old man. Anything I can do to save the time I have left…”

“Fair enough,” said Angus. “Then I’d suggest you call that one Cindy. Every lost syllable helps.”

Louis looked over his shoulder in time to see Lucinda scowl menacingly Angus’s way. She tried to right herself, but only came across looking guiltier still.

Louis’s resultant laughter was rich and deep, full of the smoke left by a lifetime of cigars. “You two. Even if I did not have a business to save, I would pay simply to watch you spar.”

The guilt on Lucinda’s face made way for chagrin as Louis reminded him of their Hail Mary attempt to right his company’s ancient ship. For Remède, one of the world’s most revered beauty brands, was on the verge of collapse.

It would not happen on Angus’s watch. In fact, if he was on the hunt for a highlight, saving Remède from ruin would come close.

For, once upon a time, Louis Fournier had saved him.

Post-university, making waves as the youngest-ever junior partner in a whiz-bang upstart marketing firm, he’d met Louis at an industry night at which the older man had been a plus one.

They’d started up a conversation at the bar and found commonality in their disinterest in schmoozing and their love of French New Wave cinema.

The conversation had moved to the hotel lounge, leading to Angus missing the moment his team had won an award that night. Not that it had mattered. In the hour he’d spent with Louis he had already mentally moved on.

For Louis Fournier was the first man his senior who had seen straight through the cool veneer, the steely ambition, to the hunger beneath. The hunger to truly make a difference. And to show Angus that hunger had inherent value.

“Latte, Monsieur Fournier?” Lucinda asked, snapping Angus back to the present. “Milk, no sugar?”

“Oui. Merci.”

Lucinda didn’t need to ask for Angus’s order. She knew how he liked his coffee, his steak, his calendar. She knew his shirt size, his in-seam measurements and his favourite underwear—having restocked the closet in his private bathroom many times over.

She also knew when to pass the team baton to Angus, to switch off the glamour and melt into the background.

When she returned a few minutes later, bringing the neat silver tray and comforting aroma of hot coffee into the room, Angus hid his smile behind his hand. He couldn’t remember the last time Lucinda had brought him coffee rather than farming it out to an intern. The last time he’d asked if she’d be so kind, she’d laughed so hard he’d heard it even after she’d closed the door between them.

But Louis was old-school. The kind of gentlemen who would never enter a room before a woman, who smiled and nodded at every person who met his eye. And Lucinda had a huge soft spot for the man.

She placed Louis’s elegant, heat-resistant, double-layered glass on the table at his elbow, alongside a plate of small French pastries.

“Ah,” Louis said, eyes closing against the heavenly scent. “Parfait.” Angus recognised his mug in an instant. She’d bought it for him for… Lent? The Queen’s birthday? International Pirate Day? He’d lost track of the occasions once their gift-buying had become a blood sport.

He turned the mug. On one side it boasted his favourite Winston Churchill quote: Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts. The other side of the mug had a tacky photo of a penguin pushing another penguin off an ice shelf.

When he looked up, Lucinda was leaning over him, placing a smaller plate of pastries beside him. The frills trickling fussily down the front of her shirt weighed the fabric down, giving him a glimpse of white lace. The swell of female curves.

He tensed and looked up. Her eyes were on her work, a smile curving the glossy red of her lips. Definitely a new colour for her. It suited her. A great deal. So much so, he’d found himself staring. Considering.

Reminding himself this was Lucinda. His assistant. His right hand. His foundation. His conscience. The yin to his yang. The light to his dark. He could not do what he did without her.

Therefore, there was no staring at her lips. Or beyond the frills of her shirt. Or at any other part of her. No matter how inviting. No matter how lovely. Those were the rules he’d set himself from day one when he’d first seen her sitting outside Fitz’s office waiting for an interview, foot tapping with nerves, the rest of her glowing with eagerness, charm and life.

Her eyes shifted to his.

“Appreciate it,” he murmured.

“My pleasure,” she replied, though the criss-cross of creases over her nose were back.

Damn it.

Angus schooled his features until he knew he appeared cool, unmoved, the very picture of ambivalence—an expression learned over many years at the feet of those who’d enjoyed it when he flinched.

It was an expression that had once made an intern cry. Not a deliberate move, but there you go. Lucinda, on the other hand, raised a single eyebrow. Slowly. As if she was bemused he was trying such a move on her.

“Need anything else?” she asked, under her breath.

I need you to stand up, he thought, his eyes starting to water with the effort not to stray. He wondered for a brief moment if Fitz’s tank-like assistant Velma had a twin sister he could hire instead.

Lucinda righted herself—thank everything good and holy—her glossy dark hair swinging past her shoulders and showering him in the scent of her shampoo; coconut and lime, making him think of cocktails. Of holidays. Of Christmas parties. One in particular that he did his very best not to think about. Especially in the middle of important business meetings.

“Shall I leave you boys to it?” she asked, hip cocking, swinging her pencil-skirt-clad backside right into his eyeline.

Angus’s gaze shot to the ceiling. Was that a spider’s web on the light fixture?

“Merci, Lucinda,” Louis said, saving Angus from having to answer. “You are not only an utter delight and a great beauty, with excellent taste in perfume, you can now add coffee angel to your list of super powers.”

“And I shall.”

“In fact, have you ever considered cosmetic modelling?”

Lucinda un-cocked her hip. “What’s that, now?”

“Your skin is like satin, cherie.”

“My skin?”

“Louis,” said Angus, his voice a little gruff. “Are you making a move on my girl?”

At that Lucinda twisted and pinned Angus with a look he’d never seen before. Her eyes were wide, pink sweeping fast across her cheeks. Her mouth opened as if she was about to say something before she snapped it shut and turned slowly back to Louis.

“Monsieur Fournier, beneath the satiny veneer of my glorious Remède foundation is the lamentable skin of the mother of an eight-year-old who refuses to sleep past five in the morning.”

Then she bent down and kissed the older man on the cheek.

“But you are sweet for pretending. Now, stop distracting me. I am an important person with important work to do.” With that she stalked out of the room.

Both men followed with their eyes.

Louis broke the silence. “Never let that one go.”

“Count on it,” Angus promised, even if the amazing Velma did in fact have a nicer twin.

Then, putting all thoughts of red lips and white lace aside, Angus got to work.

For the next hour, and even after Louis had said his goodbyes, Lucinda sat at her desk and vacillated between fuming and telling herself to stop being so ridiculously reactive.

But the moment Angus had said the words “Are you making a move on my girl?” something had snapped inside her.

She wasn’t usually so touchy. She knew it had been a joke. One she’d usually have played along with if it got the job done.

It was as if the conversation with Cat the night before had pried something loose. Then her earlier chat with Louis, in which he’d constantly joked about her being far too good for the likes of Angus, had further shifted whatever it was that now shook inside her.

The fact was, she was rattled. If she’d been in a mood like this at home she’d have found a way to distract herself while she got her head on straight. But, here, she couldn’t hide behind her desk all afternoon.

She was a grown-up who’d been through plenty worse. So, instead of sending an intern to clean away the cups, she did her best to shake it off and headed into Angus’s office.

“How’d it go?” she asked as she placed plates and coffee cups back onto the silver tray.

“As well as can be expected,” said Angus from his leaning spot, sitting on the wide shelf that ran under the long window, legs stretched out before him, gaze caught on some paperwork he held in one hand. “He kept reiterating that he has faith in us. In me.”

Words that would usually be music to Angus’s ears, but she could tell from his tone that they hadn’t been.

This, she thought, is what I need to find my equilibrium again.

Work talk. Pure, clear cut. Uncomplicated.

“But?” Lucinda said.

“He spent far more time talking about you. About how his perfume has never suited a woman more.”

And with that his eyes lifted to hers.

With the sun behind him he was little more than a silhouette, but she felt the glance all the same. Felt it hit her eyes, before tracing the line of her cheek and landing on her mouth.

She wished she hadn’t reapplied her lipstick as it suddenly felt too red. Too slick. And yet, conversely, as his gaze remained, she was also glad that she had.

Then he seemed to shake himself before he looked back down at the papers, lifted himself away from the window and tossed the papers onto his desk. “He also made it clear he believes that whatever I’m paying you it’s not enough.”

“He’s right, of course.”

“No doubt.” Hands sliding into the pockets of his suit pants, he rounded the desk towards her, those long legs eating up the distance between them in three short strides. “But it was a distraction. I get the feeling things are worse than he’s letting on.”

And there she was, caught up in some throwaway line, while Louis was in actual trouble. Gripping the tray harder, Lucinda said, “Could you convince him to let Charlie weigh in on his financials? Say it’s part of the service? No extra fee?”

Angus shook his head. “It was hard enough for him to come to me at all, and he could only do that by convincing himself he was doing me a favour.”

“Would you like me to put it to him?”

She saw Angus allow himself a moment to consider the offer. She wished Cat could see him in such a moment. For all his genius, and his self-belief, he was always open to her opinion.

But then he shook his head. Which was wasn’t uncommon either.

Yet, while any other time she’d have moved on, it turned out the rattle had not gone away. It trembled as she huffed out a breath filled with sudden frustration. “Seriously, I can sweet talk him into a meeting at least. I know I can.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Louis respects me. And likes me. But he also doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances where I’m concerned. He won’t fear that I will no longer look at him like he’s my hero.”

Angus shifted uncomfortably. “Leave it, Lucinda.”

“But—”

“Enough.” Angus ran a hand through his hair, giving the ends a tug.

Lucinda stilled. The only parts of her that moved were her shoulders, inching back, and her nostrils, flaring gently as she put the brakes on her temper. Barely.

Until his eyes once more snagged on hers.

“Was there something else?” he asked, slowly leaning back against his desk and folding his arms over his chest.

While he acted as if he hadn’t just shut her down, as if they were in the middle of a regular conversation, the rattle inside her began to shiver and shake until it bumped against her ribs like a drumbeat. Like a call to arms.

“Actually, yes,” she said before she even felt the words coming. “It’s about this weekend.”

“What about it?”

“My plans. I am going away with…” She stopped there. As if her words had smacked up against a stone wall. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip in an attempt to loosen them.

“Is this a guessing game?” Angus asked, his voice now edged with impatience. “You’re going with… Catriona? The Easter Bunny? Elvis?”

And just like that the rattle stopped rattling. As if a storm inside her had stilled. And her voice was calm, even, as she looked her boss in the eye and said, “I’m going away with a man.”

She watched Angus closely. As closely as one person could watch another. She noticed the flare of his nostrils. The tightening of his jaw. The way the rest of his body went preternaturally still.

Then she did her very best not to read anything into it. To pretend she was simply an employee passing on a titbit of little interest to her boss.

“A man,” Angus finally managed.

“Yes, a man. Not just any man,” said Lucinda, the floodgates now wide open. “The man I’ve been seeing. For a few weeks now.” Off and on. When he hadn’t been called away to surgery. Or to phone calls with doctors in developing countries needing his advice stat. He was a doctor. Had she mentioned that?

“Sonny?” Angus asked, his voice a mite strained. But that part she understood. That part made her shoulders relax down away from her ears. Raised by a single mother himself, Angus took Sonny’s welfare nearly as seriously as she did.

“Hasn’t met him yet,” she assured him. “But if this weekend goes well…”

Her boss blinked at her and said nothing. And now she couldn’t get a read on him at all. Only the fact that he looked so utterly disinterested told her that he was trying too hard.

Which, in turn, brought the rattle back to life. With a vengeance.

“Would you like to know where we’re going?”

There, a flicker below his right eye.

“A resort. Near Daylesford. Called Hanover House. It’s gorgeous. Well, Cat says it’s gorgeous. She did an article on it for a travel blog last year. Super-romantic.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed lightly before he said, “Sounds nice.”

Nice. This from a man who put words together that took businesses from the verge of ruin to stratospheric.

From the outside, Lucinda was certain their conversation seemed reasonable. Polite, even. But she felt as if she was watching it unfold from another dimension. The air crackled between them, voices rippling, words they were steadfastly refusing to utter buffeting against them in steadily increasing waves.

“How about the man himself? Don’t you want to ask who he is? What he does for a living? School grades? Parking tickets? How he votes? You’re usually all over that kind of thing. Figuring people out. Putting them into neat boxes so you know how to deal with them.”

A muscle twitched beneath his right eye.

What are you doing? a voice cried in the furthest recesses of her mind. What do you want from him? Are you looking for a reaction? Are you baiting him to tell you, “no, you can’t go”?

Angus lifted a hand and ran it over his chin, then around behind his neck. “Lucinda,” he said, “If you’re thinking ahead to letting Sonny meet him, then he is no doubt the kind of man both Sonny and I should hero worship. Now, are we done?”

He glanced pointedly at the coffee cups on the tray. His eyebrows rose, as if to remind her what she should be doing with her time rather than nattering with him about her private life.

Wow. Harsh.

They clashed all the time. Telling it like it was was their dynamic. And it worked. In fact, they fed off it. She knew if she walked away things could settle. They always did after such electric, static-fuelled dust-ups.

But, rather than feeling invigorated, she felt twitchy, discomfited and strangely hollow.

She turned and walked towards the door, her feet numb, her face burning.

But when she reached the door she stopped, turned and gave Angus one last look. “One more thing,” she said.

Angus breathed out hard. As if he was clinging to control by a fingernail. His voice was deep and tight as he said, “I think we’ve covered everything. You’re going away. HR has signed off on it. It’s done.”

“Not about the weekend,” she managed, even while storm clouds gathered about her head, lightning flashing with the darkness. “It’s about today. When I asked if I might be given the chance to try to convince Louis to talk to Charlie about Remède’s finances…”

She closed her eyes, shook her head and started afresh. “I get that you have the final word, that as your assistant it’s my job to grease the wheels, keep you fed and watered so that you’re able to perform at your best. But Angus?”

She waited, squeezing a breath into her tight lungs, as it took for ever for him to respond.

“Yes, Lucinda?”

“I’m not your girl.”

With that she took his dirty plates and left.

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