Читать книгу The Game Show Bride - Jackie Braun - Страница 9

Four weeks later

“YES, I’ll do it. I’ll go on Swapping Places.”

Kelli couldn’t believe she’d said it, but she nonetheless enjoyed the way her announcement caused Danbury’s new vice president to blink in surprise. It didn’t matter that at the moment the last thing she wanted to do was go on some reality television program. She’d think about that later and probably regret it. But right now she wanted to savor her victory, miniscule as it was.

She assured herself that her sudden willingness to participate in the show was only a matter of pride and had nothing at all to do with the fact that, arrogant and annoying as Sam Maxwell was, her pulse seemed to take off like a rocket whenever he glanced her way. Just nerves, she told herself.

And she was nervous.

They were seated in the company’s conference room in the Danbury Building in downtown Chicago. Another time, Kelli might have enjoyed the swank surroundings and the killer view of Lake Michigan. But right now, she was still too tense. Her stomach had been knotted since receiving the call—summons really—from Samuel Maxwell the night before telling her to report to the main office the following morning. He hadn’t given her a reason, but his tone had been no-nonsense to the point of sounding grave. She’d spent a nearly sleepless night worrying that she was about to be fired. She’d been late twice in the past week, after all. Now, she wasn’t sure if being unemployed would have been so bad given what she had just agreed to do.

The legal counsel and assorted other representatives for Swapping Places sat on one side of the long conference table. Danbury’s lawyers, Sam and his secretary sat at the other. One look at her frowning boss and Kelli had opted for the chair closest to the door when she arrived. For the past twenty minutes, the show’s producer had done most of the talking and all of the pacing. Sylvia Haywood stood five-foot-three thanks to a pair of spike heels, but she stalked around the conference room with all the confidence and stature of a five-star general.

“You’ll do it. Great!” She barely paused for a breath before she began ticking off the particulars of the show in a raspy voice that Kelli would bet was the result of smoking at least a couple packs of cigarettes a day. Then she paused and pinned Kelli with a flinty stare.

“You have kids, right?”

“Two girls.”

“Hmm, that won’t do.”

Kelli gasped, startled by the woman’s bluntness. “Well, I’m not going to get rid of them just to do a television show.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Sylvia paced again, running a hand through her spiky red hair. “You’d have to live in each other’s homes, essentially take over all aspects of each other’s lives. This works best with single people.”

“I’m not married,” Kelli said.

“Yes, but you have kids. How are you going to feel about leaving them in his care for a month?”

Kelli shook her head and without sparing a glance at her boss said, “Oh, no. Absolutely not. My kids come with me.”

“That pretty much blows the whole point of the show. He needs to step into your shoes. You’re a single parent. That has to cause a lot of stress and create a lot of challenges for you, especially since you work full time and take night classes.”

“You have no idea,” Kelli muttered.

“No, Ms. Walters, he has no idea.” Sylvia pointed at Sam.

“Well, I’m not leaving my kids in a stranger’s care.”

“Ms. Walters, a camera crew would be there most of the time,” Sylvia said. “And, if it would make you feel more comfortable, you could get your sitter to move in for the duration as long as she stayed in the background and didn’t perform any actual child-care duties. Your girls would be safe and well cared for.”

“No. My daughters are my responsibility.”

Sylvia sighed. “Could they go stay with their father for a month?”

It embarrassed Kelli to admit, “I don’t know where he is.”

“You don’t know where he is? What about child support?” Sam asked.

They were the first words he’d spoken since she’d walked into the room. His tone wasn’t critical. In fact, his expression seemed to be one of concern. Still, Kelli bristled. It reminded her just a little too much of how disposable she and the girls had been to her ex-husband.

Kyle had left without a backward glance while she was still pregnant. He’d never even seen Chloe. The last time Kelli had come face-to-face with him was in a courtroom when they had divvied up their limited assets and dissolved their marriage. He hadn’t sought joint custody or even visitation. He’d simply said goodbye.

“I heard that he moved out of state not long after Chloe was born.” She didn’t add that he’d done so with the college-age girlfriend for whom he’d tossed aside nine years of marriage.

For the millionth time, Kelli told herself it was Kyle’s loss. She didn’t need him. The girls didn’t need him.

“You should have someone track him down,” Sam persisted. “I can put you in touch with a good attorney.”

Pride had her lifting her chin. “I’m perfectly capable of providing for my children, thank you very much.”

“I wasn’t implying that you weren’t. But as their father, he has a responsibility to—”

“Responsibility?” Kelli issued a humorless laugh. “Believe me, that’s not a word in Kyle’s vocabulary.”

“I’ve got it! I know how we can make this show work,” Sylvia interrupted. And Kelli found herself thankful for the woman’s one-track mind. “We’ll have to bend the rules a bit, but I think it would add an interesting twist that our viewers will enjoy.”

“Bend the rules how exactly?” Kelli asked.

“You could spend the weekends with your kids, unless there’s a work function that requires your attention. We probably won’t use much of the tape from then anyway, but Mr. Maxwell would have to be included. And he’d have to handle household tasks as well as any crises that came up. As for during the week, you could slip back into the apartment around midnight, as long as you’re gone by eight the next morning.”

Sam straightened in his seat. “Um, and where will I be?”

“I’m assuming she has a couch,” Sylvia replied, one eyebrow arched. “You’ll have to stay.”

Kelli swallowed hard, but at least had the satisfaction of seeing Sam do the same.

“He c-can’t stay in my apartment,” she stammered. “What would my girls think?”

“She’s right. It wouldn’t look…appropriate.”

“That part wouldn’t be broadcast to America,” Sylvia said. She laid her palms flat on the table and split an exasperated gaze between the pair of them. “Look, we’re all adults here, so this shouldn’t be a problem. You’re not lovers, for crying out loud, and this show is not Temptation Island. So, take it or leave it. This is the last concession I’m willing to make.”

Of course they weren’t lovers. They hardly even knew one another and what Kelli did know about Samuel Maxwell the Third, she didn’t like. Still, a man in her apartment overnight?

“I don’t know,” she said.

“The payout is half a million dollars, Ms. Walters. You need to look at the big picture here.”

Kelli glanced at Sam. Sylvia had already explained that if he won, the television show would make a sizable donation to the charity of Danbury’s choosing. But he didn’t really have anything to lose. Either way, Danbury’s would still receive all that wonderful free publicity. What would she get if she lost? Sylvia seemed to read her mind.

“You’re taking night classes, right?”

“That’s right. I’m working toward my master’s degree in business.”

“This could be the best chance you’ll ever get to prove your potential in management. Consider it an internship. Better yet, consider it a way to broadcast your résumé to every company coast-to-coast. You could wind up a very hot property afterward, Ms. Walters. The last winner was interviewed on Good Morning, America and the Today show, not to mention making the cover of Time. Even the loser wound up doing Oprah.”

Kelli had to admit, her career path at Danbury’s was not looking particularly promising, and not just because the personnel director was hiring family and ignoring her applications. She glanced over at her glowering boss and took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

Sylvia nodded briskly. “We’ll assign a camera crew to each of you for the duration. You’ll have some privacy—bathroom, some financial stuff, it’s all spelled out in the folder I’ve provided—but everything else will be on the record. Not all of what we tape will air. It will be edited down to the salient points. You’ll have to sign a legal waiver, of course.

“You may ask each other for help or advice, but points will be deducted.” She glanced between them. “And not that this should be a problem, but too much cooperation and you will both be disqualified.”

As she went on, Kelli studied Sam. Nice suit. Custom-made, she was sure. A fit that perfect didn’t come off the rack. And those broad shoulders were probably the work of a clever tailor rather than a gym membership. Image was everything to corporate hot-shots. Still, if she was objective, she had to admit, the man was attractive, even more so when he smiled. His lips were drawn into a taut line now, which was a pity since he had such a nice mouth. It was a tad on the wide side with a small scar just below the bottom lip.

I wonder how he got that?

Contact sports? A barroom brawl? Neither seemed likely. Whatever the cause, the scar only added to the sensuality of his mouth.

She coughed into her hand and glanced around the room. Where had such an improper thought come from? Samuel Maxwell was her boss. He was, now that she’d made the commitment, her adversary. And if she was to win, which she certainly planned to do, she had to think of him as such. She could not afford to think of him as a man who had once caused her pulse to rev with a simple smile, no matter how sexy she found that little scar.

She coughed again.

Was the woman coming down with a cold? Sam wondered. That could work to his advantage. He was beginning to think he’d need all the advantage he could get. He sat across from Kelli, lounging in his chair and hoping he looked bored and unconcerned, but he was starting to wonder what he had gotten himself into. Swapping places hadn’t seemed like such a big deal when they had actually been, well, swapping places. But now they would be sleeping under the same roof. Separate beds or not, he didn’t like it. He liked his space and his privacy. Yes, that was why the arrangement had him so unnerved.

But as he clicked the pen he held in his hand, and studied Kelli Walters, a question nagged him. What was it about her that intrigued him so much? She was attractive, but with her unstyled hair and serviceable fashion choices, she certainly wasn’t as polished or poised as the women who usually drew his attention.

He inventoried her features—stubborn chin, high cheekbones, slightly upturned nose, and chocolate-colored eyes. Maybe it was those eyes that pulled at him. They held a hint of vulnerability, but Sam knew firsthand she was no pushover. She didn’t back down. She held her ground even when she had plenty to lose. Grudgingly, he admitted he admired that.

He recalled their first meeting, which really couldn’t even be called a meeting. Sam had seen her as he’d toured the warehouse with a group of managers. She’d been checking in inventory with her back to him, slender legs and slim hips neatly packaged in denim. Forget the fact that he was Danbury’s vice president and acting CEO, only a blind man would have failed to appreciate the view, and his eyesight was twenty-twenty. Then she had straightened and stretched with catlike grace, tilting her head side to side as if to work out some kinks. When she’d turned and caught him looking at her, he couldn’t help but smile. And she’d smiled back—seeming shy, interested and slightly irritated all at the same time.

Even if the company had not had a no-fraternization policy, their second meeting would have snuffed out any possible flirtation. The distribution center already had failed one Occupational Safety and Health Administration inspection. The inspectors were due back the day Sam had run—literally—into Kelli and her kids. Maybe he could have gone a little easier on her. He’d certainly ruffled her feathers, which he supposed was for the best. Again, his mind returned to the disturbing thought that he would be sleeping on her couch for a month.

Click-click-click! Her boss held the pen like a dagger, his thumb depressing the top at regular intervals. Was he nervous or just irritated?

Ultimately, Kelli decided, it didn’t matter. The show of emotion told her he was human. It told her that he could be riled and shook up by life’s curve balls. Well, he’d be thrown plenty of them once he stepped into her shoes. When her gaze traveled from the pen to his face, she discovered he was watching her.

He merely raised one dark brow, but she felt her face heat to be caught staring. At least that’s why she told herself she blushed. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that he really did resemble the debonair actor Pierce Brosnan. Throw in an accent and he’d be a dead ringer. Throw in the accent, she mused, and she and half the females in Chicago would be a puddle of mush at his feet. Thank God he sounded like the East Coaster he was.

Eye contact seemed to stretch interminably. Sylvia Haywood’s gravelly voice thankfully broke the spell.

“What do you say, Mr. Maxwell? Do you think you can handle Ms. Walters’s life for an entire month?”

His gaze cut to Kelli again, this time far more arrogant than considering.

“Her life for one month?” He shook his head as if insulted. “When I win, make the check out to the American Cancer Society.”

Kelli was halfway to the elevator when she heard Sam call her name. She was tempted to pretend she didn’t and just keep walking. When I win, indeed. The man was insufferable. But she stopped and turned, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for him to reach her.

“Is there something you wanted to say to me?”

“Oh, plenty.”

“I see. Well, can it wait till I punch back in? I think I’d prefer to listen to you when I’m getting paid for the privilege.”

He scowled. “My office is this way.”

He walked away without another word, obviously expecting her to follow, which she did reluctantly, mumbling oaths under her breath as she went.

His office was just as she would have imagined it to be: large, with imposing cherry furnishings and cold leather upholstery on the high-backed chair that was his highness’s throne. There were few personal touches—no photographs of loved ones, plants, plaques or little gadgets with which one could waste time when bored or perplexed. The room revealed little of Samuel Maxwell’s personal nature, which could mean he was an intensely private man. Or perhaps it revealed that he didn’t have much personality once one got beyond his uncompromising countenance and sexy mouth.

“Nice office,” she said with a smirk, telling herself it was the latter.

He glanced around. “It serves its purpose.”

“Ah, the no-nonsense type.”

“You’ll find, Ms. Walters, that there’s not a lot of time for nonsense when you’re running a business.”

He sat on his throne and she wanted to crown him.

“You’ll find, Mr. Maxwell, that when you’re raising children, you have to make time for nonsense.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yes, we will.” She sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I want to assure you that your employment will not be in jeopardy regardless of the outcome of the show, nor will this affect any opportunities you might have for advancement within Danbury’s.”

“Now, that’s a relief.”

“Is there a reason for your sarcasm?”

“No, sir. I’m sure any future promotions for which I apply will be given the same consideration as the last one.”

He frowned at her. “The last one?”

“I have to get back to the distribution center. We’re a little short-handed today,” she said as she got to her feet.

“They’ll survive a little longer without you.” He motioned for her to sit back down. “I just want to make sure you know that even though you’ll be in way over your head, the rest of the management team will be here to hold your hand.”

He sounded sincere, which only made his words all that more patronizing.

“So, I’ll be in way over my head, hmm?”

“A few business classes, even at the post-graduate level, don’t prepare one for running a national chain of department stores.”

“You’ve been studying my personnel file.”

“That is my prerogative as your employer. But no, I haven’t been studying it. I merely glanced at it when I added the warning about bringing your children to work.”

“So much for family-friendly workplaces,” she muttered.

“OSHA wouldn’t agree with your definition of family friendly, Ms. Walters. In fact, its inspectors were on the way to the distribution center the last time you decided to get creative with your day-care accommodations.”

The explanation of his surly behavior that day did little to alleviate her irritation. “Haven’t you ever had a bad day?”

“Our days are ultimately what we make of them—good, bad or otherwise. Organization is the key.”

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in the chair. “So, now I’m disorganized?”

“I’m merely pointing out that you obviously have some flaws in your system if one or two little glitches can throw your life into chaos.”

“Life, Mr. Maxwell, is not a system, and children are not a glitch.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand to silence him and had the pleasure of watching one of his dark eyebrows rise in pique. “Nonetheless, I’ll be curious to see how you manage when you experience a few ‘glitches.”’

Oh, his day was coming, all right.

“Are you assuming that every day is a holiday when you’re in management?”

“Not at all. But all the well-thought-out systems and procedures and policies in the world won’t work on a teething toddler who won’t sleep or a seven-year-old who’s convinced there are monsters under her bed.”

“Are you trying to make me nervous?” He looked amused by the prospect.

“Of course not. I’m trying to make you aware that being a parent, single or otherwise, is full of challenges. There are no instruction books, no one-size-fits-all solutions, no management teams to consult. Half the time, you’ve got to think on your feet, even when you’d rather be soaking them in hot water because you’ve been standing on them for the past twelve hours.”

“So, being a parent is all drudgery.”

She couldn’t help but smile, thinking about the big messy kiss Chloe had given her that morning and the crayon-drawn invitation Katie had presented her for tea later that evening.

“I suppose I made it seem like that, but not at all. Parenthood has unimaginable rewards. Even on those bad days, I wouldn’t trade my kids for anything. They’re…they’re…” She groped for the right words, but none seemed adequate. So, she settled on, “They’re what make it all worthwhile.”

When he said nothing, just continued to regard her with an expression she couldn’t quite read, she stood.

“Now, I really do have to get back to work. Some of us get paid by the hour.”

Sam dismissed her with a nod, but long after Kelli Walters left his office, he sat in his chair, thinking about what she had said.

Thinking and remembering.

The old hurt bubbled to the surface, and he let it come until it spilled over him as destructive and relentless as molten lava. He knew better than most that life was not a system. It was unpredictable, messy. Well-laid plans and, with them, futures could be shattered in the time it took to say goodbye.

From his wallet he pulled out the photograph his mother had included in her last letter. She wrote to Sam at least once a month. He never wrote back, although he did call on occasion. None of this, after all, had been her fault. He stared at the photo as he had a dozen times since receiving it a week earlier. Two adorable boys dressed in their Sunday best smiled back at him. Their dark hair was neatly combed, but mischief sparkled in their blue eyes. Maxwell eyes.

They were five and three now and the delight of their doting grandparents, but Sam had never met them. They were his brother’s sons, but they should have been his—just as Donovan’s wife should have been Sam’s.