The Playboy's Protegee

Megan and Harry were next. He’d watched each for almost the past year. They were perfect for each other. They’d just have to figure it out and needed a nudge in the right direction. He’d given them that nudge, although honestly he knew they’d need more than just one. He glanced at his Rolex, a gift from his wife on their fortieth anniversary. Right now Megan should be on her way to Harry’s office.

How Grandpa Joe wished he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation. He didn’t expect it to go well, but that was okay. He had quite a few aces left to play.

HARRY KNEW MEGAN MacGregor had arrived before she even knocked on his office door. He’d been expecting her since that morning, and it hadn’t made his lunch sit well. He hated to wait, especially for one as sneaky and conniving as Megan.

The subtle floral fragrance of her perfume reached him as she approached. His nose wrinkled as his brain registered the pleasant scent. Harry steeled himself. It was imperative that he remain in control of the situation. Thus, he deliberately chose not to look away from the e-mail he was reading on the computer screen. “A bit tardy, aren’t you? Come to bring me the Montana report? It is complete, isn’t it?”

Her tone hid her defensiveness well, but he still heard the echo of it. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is. Early, I might add. I put your copy into interoffice mail. I’m sure you’ll receive it tomorrow.”

Harry knew she stood right on the other side of his desk. “And let’s cut to the chase. As for tardy, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

Harry turned around from his computer and took a moment to study her. Deliberately he ran his gaze up and down her figure, taking in the rumpled blue suit, the plain white cotton shirt that revealed nothing, not even the swell of her breasts.

He’d guess she wore sensible pumps, but he couldn’t tell because his desk blocked his view of her feet. Even her brown hair was conservative, a short cut that framed her face. He returned his gaze to connect with hers. Despite a slight telltale flush that indicated that she hadn’t liked his perusal, her haughty expression hadn’t changed.

But she was flushed. Good. He liked that he had an effect on her. Whereas she might be able to fool everyone else, he was one man that could see right through her pretenses. While she might be pretty in an Ivory-soap sort of way, she definitely was not nice or pure.

“No, you’re right,” he said as he began his verbal offensive. “As for being tardy, you may not know what I’m talking about. Let me see if I can fill you in. Joe Jacobsen. Jacobsen Stars. Me not mentoring you even if my life depended on it.” He watched her expression turn angry. “I expected you early this morning.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Your grandfather just came to see me a half hour ago to tell me about the program.”

“Ah, that explains it. I’m surprised he didn’t hit you first thing in the morning. I guess he’s slipping. But let me see if I’ve got the rest correct. You’re here because he told you I’m not planning on being your mentor. Don’t even bother trying to convince me otherwise.”

Megan gave a mock laugh. “Since we’ve already cut to the chase, let me continue to follow suit. As if I want you to be my mentor. Do I have a tattoo marked Desperate on my head? If so, tell me, I need to have it removed.”

Harry clapped his hands together and laughed. Quick on the comeback. He liked that. But of course, so was he. His lips pursed together before he spoke. “Score one for Megan. Tell you what though—” Harry gestured with the back of his hand toward the open door “—why don’t you close that before you embarrass yourself. You’d hate for everyone to hear what you’re really like.”

“What I’m really like?” Megan walked to the door. Harry caught a brief vision of Peggy’s surprised face as Megan shut the door with a decisive click. “Now that we’re alone, Harry Sanders, why don’t you explain to me just what you are talking about?”

“I’m sure you know exactly what you are really like, which means that I have nothing to explain to you,” Harry said. He’d been rehearsing this all day, and it was actually going quite well. “Let me just say that your entry into the Jacobsen Stars program is not one of my grandfather’s better ideas.”

“You just wish you could fire me like you threatened to do.”

Now there was a good idea. Too bad she was Grandpa Joe’s pet. Harry shrugged as if the issue was of little concern. “Someday I will.”

Megan gave a haughty laugh. “Maybe if you ever get promoted you might get a chance. Of course, if the day ever comes that you get promoted, I’m sure I’ll want to find another job before you run the company into the ground.”

“Oh, you’ve taken the gloves off, haven’t you, Megan? I wondered if you would. So since you’re here, let’s get down to why you came in the first place. You want me to refuse to be your mentor so that my grandfather chooses someone else for you. Not going to happen. He’s not going to change his mind, and neither will I.”

“What?!” Her mouth dropped open.

He arched an eyebrow. “Did I stutter? It’s not going to happen.”

She gestured wildly for a moment. “Are you insane? Look at us! We can’t stand each other. You’ve done nothing but pick apart my performance since I got here a year ago. I’m sorry. Well, no I’m not. You made yourself look foolish in that meeting, Harry, not me.”

Perhaps, but that didn’t matter. He’d forgotten how intense she could be when angry. He shoved that intriguing thought aside. He had to stay focused.

“That meeting long ago is irrelevant. You are not good for Jacobsen, Megan. You are not a good fit for this company. But since it is not my company until such time that my grandfather and my father both step down and retire, I have little say in the matter.”

This was going better than he thought. He knew she’d come in prepared to fight, to prove they were incompatible. She’d played right into his hands. Megan drew herself up and leaned over his desk. “So step aside and let me have a different mentor.”

“No. You know what they say about your past mistakes coming back to haunt you, don’t you, Megan? That was your mistake, messing with me when you first came to work for Jacobsen Enterprises.”

“I did no such thing as what, messing with you? I came here on a professional basis. You and I may not be able to stand each other, but we can be professional. Why don’t you just step aside so we can get past this issue and move on with our lives.”

She drew a deep breath, as if trying to calm herself. The movement made her breasts press forward. The suit jacket gaped open. She was wearing white lace.

Harry’s throat went dry, and his next words simply disappeared. What was it about a clue train, or conversation train, or something like that derailing? He felt poleaxed. Come on! From seeing catalogs to actually removing women’s clothing during lovemaking, he’d certainly seen lace-covered breasts before. But something about Megan and lace had just caused him to come unglued.

He blinked in order to yank his gaze away from staring at her breasts. He’d totally lost where he was, oh yeah, his office. And what he was saying or about to say? To regain control he stood, his six-foot-two height towering over her by six inches.

“I told my grandfather I’d make my decision soon. Who knows, maybe I just will be your mentor. After all, you’re right. I need to be professional about this.”

“You are such a, you are…”

“Oh spit it out, Megan. You can do better than that. Everyone knows how you enjoy making me look foolish. No one else is listening or even here. You don’t have to pretend to be perfect. Let the real you hang out for once.”

She tossed a hand though her short hair as if she was trying to regain control, and then the words spit forth. “You are a cad!”

Harry laughed. Boy, was she cute when she was angry. “Bravo. Impressive. You could have called me so much worse.”

“You are impossible!” Her brown eyes flashed venom at him.

“Yes,” he said. “I am. I take pride in that attribute.”

“This was a waste of time.” Megan strode over to the door, giving Harry a view of her shoes: plain, sensible blue pumps that matched her suit.

But she had nice ankles. Nice, thin, and not too bony. Just about perfect.

He stared at those perfect ankles as she stormed out of his office, her brown hair tossing around her head.

Peggy suddenly hovered at the doorway. “You got a call from Peters in New York while Ms. MacGregor was here. I didn’t want to disturb you and send it through.”

“Thanks, Peggy. Ms. MacGregor is disturbing enough. Go ahead and redial him for me, won’t you?”

“Certainly.” Peggy went back to her desk.

Harry sat back down, surprised to find himself so oddly invigorated. Megan was disturbing.

Arguing with her, how to describe it? The thought that it had been better than some of the sex he’d ever had, and man had he had some sex, came into his mind. She was feisty, mind-blowing, difficult, temperamental, and yet she faced him down and went where most men would even fear to tread. Hmm.

She was an intriguing woman. No wonder men found her a siren. Maybe he should be her mentor just to spar with her again. It had been the most fun he’d had in several weeks.

He laughed at the foolishness of that idea as Peggy sent the call through.

Chapter Two

“Megan? Is that you?”

“It’s me.” Megan’s purse landed with a thump on the side table. She took a moment to calm herself down. The meeting with Harry still had her totally keyed up.

The look on his face! Never in her life had she wanted to slap someone as much as she had wanted to smack Harry Sanders. Heck, she’d have kissed him if it would have given her back the control she’d lost in that meeting.

Of course, kissing him…Control. Harry always made her so furious, mostly at herself for being so unprofessional and out of control.

She strode into the living room of the shotgun flat she shared with her mother down in the area of Saint Louis known as the Hill. Her mother, propped up by pillows, was watching the evening news. Megan leaned and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling today?”

Barbara MacGregor smiled weakly. “Okay. Today is much better than yesterday,” she said. “I’m not as numb in my legs as I was.”

“Then that’s good news,” Megan said. She pushed the wheelchair aside and took a seat next to her mother. “Maybe the medicine is working.”

“I hope so,” Barbara said, her face clouding for a moment. Megan felt the familiar pang shoot through her. Her mother, the bravest woman she knew, did not deserve to have a primary-progressive case of multiple sclerosis. It had left Barbara needing a wheelchair most of the time. While her mother could still walk, her muscles were so weak that she used the wheelchair mostly to conserve precious energy.

“You just missed Bill. He brought me dinner before he went in to work.” Barbara mentioned her fiancé of the past year. “He’s tending bar tonight.”

Ironically, her mother’s fiancé, a wonderful retired gentleman with lots of spare time on his hands, worked for mad money at Henrietta’s, Jacobsen’s five-star, five-diamond restaurant.

Located only a few blocks away on Southwest Avenue, Bill often brought Barbara gourmet carryout dinners since she rarely left the house herself except for a doctor’s appointment. It was just too much effort to go anywhere besides the general area of her home.

“So how was work?”

If one forgot about Harry Sanders, it was, “Great,” Megan answered. “Mr. Jacobsen came by to tell me about a new program he’s launching in two weeks called Jacobsen Stars. He wants me to participate.”

“Honey! That’s fantastic! Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Megan replied as she told her mother about it, except of course, about Harry.

“I’m so proud of you,” her mother said. She moved her hand slowly and finally covered Megan’s. “You’re the best daughter I could have asked for.”

“Mom,” Megan said. Tears brimmed in Megan’s eyes and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

Barbara’s voice suddenly sounded weary. “You shouldn’t be having to take care of me, Megan. I’m only fifty. I should be fine.”

A lump lodged in Megan’s throat. She tried to lighten the moment. “Well, set a date with Bill and I’ll pass you off on him.”

Her mother’s features clouded. “You know I can’t do that. He’s been too terrific and I can’t take advantage of him. I’m thinking of calling off the engagement. He needs a woman who can get around, not one that is bedridden.”

“Mom! He loves you!”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough.” A tear went down Barbara’s cheek. Megan reached for a tissue and wiped it away.

Her mother was referring to Megan’s father, who had dumped Barbara when she’d first been diagnosed with MS fifteen years ago. Barbara smiled brightly, as if the matter was concluded.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” her mother said. “There’s some dinner for you too. Bill even brought you some of that five-layer chocolate suicide cake you love so much.”

“He’s going to make me fat. I’ll split it with you,” Megan said. She rose to her feet. “In fact, I think I’ll go get it and eat it first.”

“You’re not fat,” Barbara called after her. “Girls who are five-foot-eight like you need a few pounds on them or they look too scrawny. But you are perfect. Any man would be thrilled to have you.”

Maybe, until they learned that her mother came with the package. Not many men wanted to date her after discovering her invalid mother lived with her.

Personally, though, after seeing how Bill loved her mother, Megan wanted no part of any shallow, superficial man either. So, in essence, she’d given up dating. Right now, working at Jacobsen Enterprises and supporting her mother were much more important priorities.

Megan went into the tiny kitchen and took the carryout container from the refrigerator. She lifted the lid, her mouth watering at the sight of five layers of chocolate cake with milk chocolate frosting sandwiched between each layer. A dark chocolate frosting, sprinkled with grated chocolate, covered the entire cake. Nestled in the corner of the white container was a small cup containing the special chocolate sauce.

As always, Henrietta’s chef had been more than generous with the portion. Megan took out a fork. Nothing like chocolate to make a girl feel better. She took a bite and walked back into the living room. Delicious.

“No offense, Mom, but you need to keep Bill just so we can keep getting this cake.”

“I guess he does have his uses.” Megan heard the love in her mom’s voice, meaning that Barbara’s early melancholy had lifted. She was one of the most up people Megan knew, but even her mother did get depressed occasionally. How she remained as chipper, after needing to sell her home and move in with her daughter, was beyond Megan. Her mother was her hero.

“So any idea who is to be your mentor?” her mother asked after Megan fed her a piece of cake.

Megan wished she could lie, but she’d never been able to, especially to her mother. “Harry Sanders.”

Barbara looked impressed. “The grandson?”

“One and the same.”

“You don’t sound so thrilled about it.”

“I’m not. He hates me.” Megan filled her mother in.

Barbara ate another bite of cake. “Actually,” she said finally, “I think he will be a perfect choice for you. If you can deal with him, then you can deal with anyone.”

Her optimistic mother would see the silver lining. “As usual, you’re probably right,” Megan said. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

Barbara smiled. “Joe Jacobsen must really think you’re special if he gave you his grandson as a mentor. I think you’ll discover that this works out better than you had ever hoped.”

Megan forked the last bite of cake into her mouth to keep from answering. That remained to be seen.

TWO WEEKS LATER Megan stepped out of her cubicle and one last time attempted to smooth the wrinkles out of her skirt. It was her best suit, but the stubborn wrinkle at midthigh refused to budge.

“Good luck,” Cheryl, the floor receptionist, called as Megan stepped into the elevator that would take her upstairs and to her first executive-level meeting as part of the Jacobsen Stars program.

“Megan, welcome,” Joe Jacobsen greeted her as she stepped off the elevator. “We’re in the large conference room. Just follow Sally.”

And Joe passed Megan off on Sally as he waited for the next person.

Megan made a quick mental note. This was why Jacobsen was one of the best places to work. It was class personified. Knowing each “Star” would probably be nervous, Joe Jacobsen had greeted them personally and then had his secretary show them to their respective seats. His foresight eliminated what could have been many awkward moments.

Sally showed Megan to a seat between Jill Benedict and Alan Dalen, other Jacobsen Stars. Harry was across the table from her. His eyes narrowed as she pulled her chair out. “Harry,” she said as she sat.

“Megan,” he acknowledged before he reengaged the executive sitting to his right. It was the first time she’d seen him since their ill-fated meeting two weeks ago.

“I’m too excited,” Jill confided to Megan.

“I know. It’s a great opportunity,” Megan replied as Joe Jacobsen came to the head of the table.

“Welcome, everyone. I’m excited to announce that this meeting marks the first of many for our new Jacobsen Stars. Today’s session is a think tank on the acquisition of Evie’s Pancake Houses that we are planning. The information is in the folders in front of you.”

Like everyone else, Megan opened the folder and studied the pages as Joe Jacobsen kept talking. “We’ve run into a problem, though.” Everyone turned their heads to look at their boss.

“We never went after this as a merger. Evie’s is a privately held chain of ten restaurants in the New York City market. Most of their value is in the actual real estate of the buildings themselves. Anyway, we now have competition. Odyssey Holdings has come along and proposed a merger. Whereas we would have been refurbishing the restaurants and replacing the Evie’s name, they’ve proposed to keep it. Thoughts?”

Conversation began flying as people began tossing out ideas. Megan half listened but at the same time she started to really study the portfolio in front of her. Evie’s, named for the owner’s wife, was only being sold because the owner wanted to retire and none of his children wanted the business. Whereas Jacobsen Enterprises wasn’t offering any stock, just cash, Odyssey had proposed stock options in its company as well. Odyssey had also proposed to keep all the restaurants open.

“I think we need to offer them more money,” Harry said. “After all, we only want half of the locations and the rest can be sold to recoup some of our initial investment. Several of the restaurants are actually not showing a profit anymore.”

Megan tapped her pen on the binder. She was missing something.

“That idea has merit,” someone else said. “Some of the neighborhoods are not experiencing urban renewal. We should get out while we can before property value drops further.”

Megan watched Harry nod his agreement, a strand of blond hair falling into his face. He pushed it back. “Exactly what we should do,” he said.

“But it’s the wrong thing to do.” The room got quiet and Megan realized she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

“And just why is that? Do you have a reason to back your thoughts up?” The words, of course, came from Harry.

Megan glared at him. She would not let him get to her. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

She turned and directed her comments to where Joe Jacobsen sat. “Mr. Jacobsen, Evie’s is a chain of restaurants named after the owner’s wife. It’s her legacy. No amount of money is going to sway him. Sure he wants financial freedom for the rest of his life, but not at the expense of his wife. It would have been like Dave Thomas selling Wendy’s and it suddenly being called Sandy’s. You have name recognition. That comforts people. It’s why travelers on highways often go to McDonald’s instead of the truck stop. They know what they’re getting.”

“And how is this important?”

Megan shot Harry another dirty look. Hopefully he’d get the message and keep his mouth closed, although she doubted it. “It would be like Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats suddenly being called something else. Mr. Jacobsen, could you just give up Grandpa Joe’s knowing it was going to be torn down or sold for something else?” She looked back at Joe Jacobsen. He looked thoughtful. “It was your very first business venture, the one that gave you the capital to launch Henrietta’s and Jacobsen. It’s the company cornerstone. Well, could you give it up? Sir?”

Grandpa Joe shook his head. “No, which is why I haven’t even considered the option even though the land value has quadrupled. The restaurant is like a baby. It even predates my children.” He leaned back in his chair, his blue gaze fixating on her as he waited for her reply.

“Exactly. I’m sure neither can Mr.—” she checked the folder “—Althoff. While he wants out, he also has a bond with these neighborhoods. It’s a private company, not public. It has no stockholders but himself and people he chose to sell shares to.”

“But what about the restaurants that are losing money?” Harry asked. “What proposal do you have for them?”

Megan tapped her pen on the folder again. “We need to see why they are losing money. Is it that the neighborhood is in decline? Maybe there is too much competition in the area. Maybe the factory has closed. That’s research we need to do. We may be able to move an Evie’s restaurant down the block a ways and discover that it becomes an overnight sensation in its new home.”

“Can you prove that works?” Harry asked.

“Absolutely,” Megan turned back to Harry. If looks could kill. She pressed on anyway. “Remember when the Chicken Clatch found it wasn’t successful in Eureka’s fast-food row? So the company closed the store and built one five miles west in Pacific. It’s a runaway success. We need to consider these types of things before we up our offer, or decide to kill the Evie’s name.”

Joe Jacobsen signaled his approval by nodding. “Excellent thoughts, Megan. Those are points we need to consider. Keeping ten successful venues, even if we have to move some down the block as Megan says, would be more income to Jacobsen than five. Jill, will you look into those possibilities?”

“Yes, sir,” Jill replied. “I’d be delighted.”

“Good,” Joe said. “Next item.”

As his grandfather moved on to the next item, Harry wanted to spit. Perfect little Megan MacGregor. Even though a brainstorming meeting wasn’t a competition, once again she’d bested him. He brushed aside the begrudging respect he had for her performance. Her performance didn’t matter. His did.

Would his grandfather ever see him as a valid player? Harry fumed, hating himself for even taking a moment to wallow in self-pity. But after all, when had he been good enough? He’d gone to the wrong college, failed Grandpa Joe’s indoctrination into the company—no way had Harry wanted to spend two weeks cooking in Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats—and now he hadn’t even had decent ideas in a brainstorming session.

Megan’s ideas were dead on, and what miffed Harry was that they’d come from her, not him. If he didn’t get his act together, despite his MBA and being family, he’d never get promoted to any type of vice president. Too bad he was too driven and actually wanted to work. If not, he could have just lived off his trust fund and been a playboy like his cousin Shane.

He suddenly realized he hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on. Panic filled him and he tried to focus. The last thing he needed was to be caught off guard in a meeting. Thankfully everyone was still talking about the New York trip. Jacobsen Enterprises was sending a team in one week to hopefully finish and wrap up the negotiations with Smith and Bethesda, the legal firm representing Evie’s Pancake Houses.