Читать книгу The Billionaire's New Year Gift - Emma Darcy - Страница 14

By the end of his first week, Alex felt like an old pro at his job. He knew where the most popular products were located without having to look at his diagram, and even when he did have to look, it didn’t take him long to find what he needed, get it off the shelf, and fill the order. In fact, he worked almost as fast as Rick did.

“You’re doing a great job,” Rick said, clapping him on the back late Friday afternoon. They’d both been asked to stay until five because of a huge order that had come in right before their shift was about to end. “You filled as many orders as I did today.”

Alex smiled. “Thanks.”

Even P.J. gave him a compliment, saying, “You’ve caught on fast, Alex.”

It was absurd how pleased he was by their praise, especially P.J.’s. Maybe she was beginning to trust him. She didn’t seem to be watching him as much as she had those first few days.

He’d been watching her, though. He couldn’t seem to help it. And the more he watched her, the more intrigued he became, and the more he entertained the possibility of her as a potential wife.

She had just walked by the aisle where he was working when Rick approached from the other end. Alex hoped the younger man hadn’t seen him staring at P.J.

But Rick’s gaze was guileless. “Hey man, it’s quitting time.”

Alex looked at his watch. It was after five. The time had gone so fast that afternoon, he hadn’t realized how late it was.

“I wanted to tell you that we usually stop off at Jake’s for a couple of beers on Fridays,” Rick said. “Want to come?”

“Who’s we?”

“Just a bunch of us from the different departments. Mostly singles.”

Alex wondered if P.J. would be there. “Okay, sure. Sounds good. Uh, does the boss usually go, too?” He inclined his head in the direction of P.J.’s office.

“Sometimes. Not always. But even if she does show up, she’s pretty low-key when she’s there. She doesn’t act like the boss or anything.”

“That’s good,” Alex said for Rick’s benefit.

“Some of the guys stay and eat,” Rick said as they walked out to the parking lot together. “Jake’s has great fried shrimp and onion rings, but me, I gotta get home. Maria’s mother is visiting and she said she’d babysit tonight if me and Maria want to catch a movie or something. Maria’s all excited.” He grinned. “Thing is, we don’t get out much.”

Alex had seen Jake’s Grill on his drive back and forth to work. Located on River Street, it was only about five minutes from the distribution center. Although it had been raining earlier in the day, the sun had broken through the clouds by the time he reached the five-year-old red Ford pickup truck he’d purchased to conform with his new status in life.

He grinned as he unlocked the driver’s-side door. He actually liked the truck. Hell, he might even keep it when this masquerade was over.

After getting in, he rolled down the window. He also liked fresh air. In his capacity as Managing Director of the Harrison Hunt Foundation, when he wasn’t sitting on his butt in the office, he spent a lot of time traveling to various facilities. That was the hardest part about his job at the distribution center—having to be indoors all day long.

The drive to Jake’s was short. When he got there, the parking lot was already half-full, even though it was early by most standards. He parked the pickup, locked it and strode toward the entrance.

The inside of Jake’s sported dark woods, dart boards on the far wall, and long tables rather than booths. Alex smiled at the player piano cranking out “The Entertainer” and the pretty waitresses in their short black skirts and white blouses. He saw there was also a juke box and some video games on the far wall.

Spying Rick at a long table near the bar, he walked over to join the HuntCom group. He’d met most of them already. A quick glance told him if P.J. was coming, she hadn’t made it yet.

“Hey, Alex,” Rick said. Sliding his chair over, he made room for Alex to join them. “You know everyone?”

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” said a striking blonde sitting on the other side of Rick. “I’m Carrie Wancheck. I work in payroll.”

“Alex Noble,” Alex said, leaning over to shake her hand. “I’ve seen you around.” He was almost certain she was one of the women who had checked him out during his first couple of days on the job.

She was very pretty, but too young for him, nearer his sister’s age than his. He guessed she was probably in her early twenties. He knew a lot of men who had married women fifteen and twenty years younger than them—in fact, the older the men, the more they seemed to like young women. But he wanted someone who wasn’t a kid. Someone with ideas, who maybe read the newspaper and had opinions on more than fashions and movies.

Someone like P.J.

The thought came unbidden, almost surprising him. Yet he knew it had been brewing for a while.

“So how do you like working at HuntCom?” Carrie asked.

“I like it fine.”

She smiled. “And we certainly like having you.”

Her tone left no doubt that she was flirting with him. “Thanks,” he answered casually. “It seems like a good place to work.”

“You want a beer?” Rick said, pushing his chair back and standing.

“Yeah, but I can go get it. Or wait for the waitress to bring me one.”

“Okay. Enjoy. I’ve gotta get going or Maria will kill me.”

There were good-natured mutters of “henpecked” and “who wears the pants in your family, Rick?” as he headed for the bar.

The moment he was gone, Carrie slid over onto his vacated seat. She smiled up at Alex. “So I hear you’re from Sacramento?”

“Not from Sacramento. I was born in the San Diego area.”

That was actually true. Alex’s mother had been visiting friends in La Jolla when her water broke—three weeks early—and she gave birth to Alex there. Without Harry’s presence, as she had bitterly said more than once.

“I worked in Sacramento before moving here, though.” Alex felt he could carry this myth off without tripping himself up because he’d spent a couple of weeks in Sacramento in the course of doing the foundation’s work.

“What made you come to this area?”

“My brothers all live around here.” Now why did he say that?

“Brothers?” Her eyes met his coyly. “Are they all as good-looking as you are?”

Alex was saved from having to answer by Rick’s reappearance. “Hey,” he said to Carrie. “You stole my seat.”

She grinned. “Yes, I did.”

He made a face at Alex, handed him his beer—Miller on tap—and sat in her old seat.

“You guys want to hear a joke?” said one of the men on the other side of the table.

“Is it clean? There are ladies present,” someone else—Alex thought his name was Mike—said.

“Ladies?” the jokester countered, laughing. “I don’t see no ladies.”

“Hey, watch it,” Carrie said.

“Oh. Didn’t see you there, Carrie,” he answered with a mock frown.

The banter continued and Alex was able to turn his attention away from Carrie without being rude, but when Rick got up a few minutes later, saying he had to leave, she put her hand on Alex’s arm and leaned closer.

“I know a much quieter and nicer place where we could have some privacy.” Her smile was suggestive. “And they have much better food.”

Alex was taken off-guard and for a moment and couldn’t think how to answer her. “Thanks, Carrie, but I have to be going myself.”

She pouted. “Oh, do you? Darn. I was really hoping to get to know you better.”

And Alex had been hoping to have dinner there, with the others, especially if P.J. should show up, but now there was no way he could. Damn. He’d have to figure out a way to head little Miss Carrie off at the pass. She wasn’t even being subtle about her intentions. But she was definitely too young for him, no matter how pretty and sexy she was. More important, he couldn’t imagine his aunt approving of someone like her, even if he were interested.

After draining his beer, he stood. “Have a good weekend, everyone. I’ve got to be going, too.”

“Sure you won’t change your mind?” Carrie asked.

Alex just shook his head and said his goodbyes, making a quick exit.

As he drove home to his apartment, he wondered if J.T. and Gray were faring any better than he was in finding a suitable candidate to be the next Mrs. Hunt. Justin, of course, had already found his—the mother of his year-old daughter, Ava. A daughter Justin’d had no idea even existed, because Lily, Ava’s mother and Justin’s former lover, had never told him about her after their breakup.

Alex smiled thinking of Ava. He hadn’t met his niece yet but he’d seen a photo of her, and she was a winner. With her dark hair and dimples, she was clearly a Hunt. In fact, she looked exactly like Justin. And from the look on Harry’s face when he’d seen that photo, she’d already captured his heart.

For a moment when Justin had told them about Lily, Ava’s mother, Alex had hoped Harry would drop the challenge for the rest of them. After all, he had his much-coveted grandchild now. But no such luck. Harry had only said the rest of them had better get busy.

Alex knew he’d have to make up his mind soon. Pick one of the women he’d met or make an effort to meet someone new. It was already entering the second week of September and he needed a bride and a baby on the way by next July.

What would Harry do if one of the brides wasn’t pregnant by July? Hell, there were no guarantees. Surely the old man would be fair. If they’d fulfilled their part by marrying suitable women, surely Harry would give them some leeway on the pregnancy question.

But what if he didn’t?

What if, after finding brides, they ended by losing their stakes in Harry’s empire, anyway?

P.J. was just about to walk out the door when her cell phone rang. Checking the number, she saw it was her brother.

She pressed the talk button. “Hey, Peter, what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just haven’t talked to you in a couple of weeks and thought I’d better see if you were still alive.”

Why was it Peter always made her feel guilty? “I’ve been busy. For some reason, lots of people have decided they need Hunt products this month.”

“So business is good?”

“Very good.”

“And you still like that…job?”

“I still like my job.” Peter asked the same questions every time they talked. It was as if he couldn’t believe anyone could possibly enjoy the kind of work she did. He was always telling her she was wasting her education, not to mention her brain. His lack of respect for what she did used to make P.J. mad. Now she just patiently gave him the same answers and ignored his jabs.

“Allison said to tell you hello. She’s looking forward to seeing you at Dad’s birthday dinner next week.”

P.J.’s father would turn seventy the following Saturday and they were celebrating with a big family dinner at her parents’ home.

“I still haven’t figured out what to buy him,” she said. “He has everything. What’re you and Allison giving him?”

Peter laughed. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“What?”

“A guitar.”

“A guitar!”

“It was Allison’s idea.”

P.J. was laughing now, too. “Did he say he wanted a guitar?”

“Nope. But you know how he is. A total workaholic. Allison said he needed something to do that was relaxing and fun. A hobby of some kind. So we settled on a guitar. I mean, he used to like Dylan. I actually heard him listening to Dylan’s music once.”

P.J. was still laughing. “Maybe I should arrange for him to have some lessons.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Think so? Okay, then. I will.” Somehow she didn’t think her father was going to be pleased, but she had to hand it to Allison and Peter. They had guts.

“So what are you doing tonight?” Peter asked. “Got a hot date?”

P.J. snorted. “Yeah. Sure. Actually, I was just getting ready to join some of the guys from work at a local pub.”

“I won’t keep you then. See you next week, okay?”

They said their goodbyes, and P.J. finished clearing off her desk, then headed out the door. Fifteen minutes later, she walked into Jake’s Grill. Quickly scanning the crowded room, she spied the group from HuntCom.

Even as she told herself she wasn’t looking for him, her gaze traveled around the group to see if Alex was there. When she didn’t see him, she told herself she wasn’t disappointed. If anything, she was relieved.

But she knew she was lying.

“Hey, P.J.’ Bout time you got here.” This came from Mike Fields, who worked out at the docks.

Everyone scooted their chairs to make room for her, and P.J. grabbed an empty chair from another table and squeezed in between Carrie Wancheck and Chick Fogarty.

She motioned to a nearby waitress. “I’ll have a bottle of Beck’s, Jessie.”

“Sure thing, P.J.”

Carrie nudged P.J.’s arm. “You just missed Alex.”

P.J.’s traitorous heart skipped a beat. “Alex who?”

“Oh, c’mon, P.J. Alex Noble. Your new sexy employee. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh. Him.”

“Yeah, him. I tried to persuade him to go to Costello’s with me, but he had to leave.”

P.J. pretended indifference. “Maybe he had a date.”

Carrie frowned. “Think so?”

“A man like him? I don’t see him sitting home on a Friday night.”

“Shoot. You’re probably right. Well, I’m not giving up. Guys like Alex don’t come along every day.”

“You know, Carrie, he really is a lot older than you are. And you don’t know anything about him.”

“He’s gorgeous, he’s well-spoken, he smells good, and he has a fantastic smile. I mean, those dimples!” Carrie sighed. “The only thing he doesn’t have is money.”

P.J. refrained from rolling her eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Oh, please. As if he’d be working as a picker if he did. I mean, come on, P.J.”

Not for the first time, P.J. wondered what her coworkers would think if they knew about her and her family. Then again, she knew what they’d think. It was the reason she’d decided to use initials instead of her first name, which was Paige, when she’d come to work for HuntCom.

P.J. wanted to be treated like everyone else, and if they’d known she was the daughter of Peter Prescott Kincaid and—until she’d repudiated it—heiress to a multimillion-dollar trust fund, there was no way she’d be one of the guys the way she was now.

“Well, money or not, he’s still too old for you,” P.J. said.

“He’s not that old. I’m guessing he’s in his early thirties.”

“Thirty-six.” P.J. had checked his application.

“So? That’s only fifteen years older than me. Big deal.”

“He might have an ex-wife and ten kids.”

“Oh, please,” Carrie said, rolling her eyes.

P.J. could see that nothing she said was going to head Carrie off. She had set her sights on Alex, and she wasn’t going to be persuaded otherwise.

And why should you care?

She didn’t care. As a thirty-year-old, more experienced woman, she just felt she should look out for the younger women at work, that’s all.

But even as she told herself this, P.J. knew she was lying to herself. For some reason, Alex Noble intrigued her. More than intrigued her.

Admit it, you’re attracted to him.

Even though there was something about him that just didn’t add up and even though she’d told Courtney she didn’t believe in dating an employee and even though she knew there’d be no future in it—how could there be, given her situation?—she knew ifAlex Noble were to ask her out, she would want to say yes.

But it would be madness. Absolute madness. Dating Alex Noble would do nothing but cause trouble for her.

So, regretfully, even if he were to ask her out, she would have to say no.