Читать книгу His Forever Girl - Liz Talley - Страница 11

CHAPTER FIVE

TESS STALKED OUT of her father’s office feeling like she’d entered a boxing ring with a world champion. One punch and she was out. Her mind couldn’t wrap around what had happened moments ago.

How had her Tuesday gone so wrong?

It had started well with new bodywash in her shower, a good coffee from Cuppa Joe’s and the sun on her shoulders as she biked through the awakening French Quarter. Fog had burned off the river by the time she’d reached the warehouse, and every line on her sketches that morning had been true. It had been a banner morning that had turned to hell in the blink of an eye.

Graham Naquin.

Bastard. Usurper.

The irony of the man she’d thought her forever guy being the person taking the helm of Ullo was like someone shoving a spoonful of crap into her mouth and expecting her to say “mmm.” But this was one spoonful she wasn’t going to swallow.

How dare her old man hire him? Him. The very person who had almost broken her heart. Okay. Had broken her heart. Which sounded strange since she’d known him for such a brief time, yet for a while it had felt every bit as real as what her parents had.

She’d eaten a lot of ice cream trying to get over the false start with Graham. In fact, she’d wolfed down a half gallon in twenty-four hours. That’s how much cream and sugar she’d needed to soothe the hurt of rejection.

And now this. She would have to run to California to work off what was likely about to be spooned down in mourning of the thing she loved most about each day—her job.

Dear God, she was no longer employed at Ullo.

As Tess pushed through the metal door into the stairwell, her knees gave way. Sinking against the cold cement steps, she struggled for a breath.

This wasn’t happening.

No way.

She was an Ullo. She’d grown up skipping through the phantom floats hulking like huge freighters bobbing at a wharf. Tess had worked summers perfecting sculpting foam, schlepping papier-mâché onto props and wiring fiber optics. She’d taken extensive art lessons, chosen a major in industrial art and ignored the tryouts for the Junior U.S. Soccer team...all so she could work for her family’s business. All because she wanted to be the one child who pleased their father by caring more for Frank Ullo Float Builders than for herself. She’d sacrificed so she could do what was right, what would be best for their family business.

And it had been for nothing.

Unshed tears gathered in her throat. She wanted to cry, wanted to lie down right in the dusty stairwell and sob until she ran dry. But she wouldn’t give the world the satisfaction of knowing her disappointment. Of the betrayal.

Her father didn’t think she was good enough.

“Damn it,” she whispered into the air around her.

“Tess.” The door opened with a whoosh, nearly nailing her in the shoulder. Billie’s head popped into the stairwell.

“Hey,” Tess managed to say, hoping like hell the tears in her eyes weren’t noticeable.

“What in the name of Sam Hill is going on?” Billie asked, darting a look at the inner recess of her office. “Your father said you quit.”

“I did.”

“Why?” Billie looked like someone had run over her cat.

“Ask my father.”

“Don’t you think I did? He buttoned up his lip like a preacher in a whorehouse. Said you no longer wanted to work here and to send a note to Accounting so you could collect your last check. Sister, what’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Billie. This is between my father and me.”

“It has to do with that good-looking guy Frank hired, doesn’t it? I knew something was going on when your dad got all secretive, wanting me to show him how to use the fax machine and getting all those calls from Texas.”

Tess pulled herself from where she slumped. “Yeah, you’re about to be working for that good-looking guy.” The words hung in her throat. She didn’t want to think about Graham Naquin. She’d spent far too much time thinking about the son of a bitch already. She’d just stopped longing for him. Or mostly stopped moping around waiting for his call.

“Huh?”

“Dad’s retiring. Might as well be the first to tell you.”

“Retiring? No. He hasn’t even made a peep about—”

“Well, he is. Soon.”

“I had no idea.” Billie’s face crinkled as she soaked in the ramifications. “So Frank basically hired this guy over you? His own daughter?”

“You’re a sharp cookie.” Tess gave Billie a half smile that hurt like hell to deliver.

“Smart cookie. Not sharp,” Billie muttered, sadness etched on her face. “I can’t believe this, Tess. I’m sure he has a good reason. Something’s wrong. I’ve had this weird feeling. He’s been saying strange things, and I wondered what was up. But this?”

“Not a good enough reason. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not about to watch him give Frank Ullo to some asshole.”

“He seemed okay to me. Together, polite, nice ass.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an ass all right. Good luck,” Tess said, giving Billie a quick squeeze. Billie had been with her father for forty years so Tess couldn’t fathom the woman not knowing about Graham Naquin, the interview and Frank’s plans. That her father had kept them from his most trusted assistant boggled the mind. “I’ll see you around, ’kay?”

“How? You won’t be here. What am I going to do without my Tess? Who’s going to make chocolate-oatmeal cookies and post pics of delicious man candy in the ladies’ room? How are we going to function without you?” Billie wouldn’t let go.

“Just like you did before I worked here.”

“Don’t do it, honey. It’s your pride standing in the way. Pride’s a tricky thing.” Billie pulled back and looked at her with eyes the color of chocolate chips. She had always reminded Tess of the teapot in Beauty and the Beast—if it had a wry sense of humor, a dirty mouth and a way with advice. Billie always seemed to know what to do—but not this time.

This time Tess wouldn’t be cajoled into accepting her father’s decision. She was many things, but she wasn’t a blinking jackass. Her father had gotten his point across with bloody accuracy. He had no faith in Tess, therefore Tess had her back against the wall. It was either give in and hate herself, or quit, get a new job...and gather together the remains of who she was.

“I have to do this, Billie. I’m good. I have to prove that. Not only to Dad, but to myself. I don’t need Frank Ullo. Frank Ullo needs me.”

“Of course we need you. You know that. Don’t go, Tess. Work through this. Change is always hard, but when you come through on the other side, you see it’s for the best.”

“Hiring someone else is not for the best, Billie. Change or no change. Dad chose a stranger over me, and I got the message loud and clear.”

Billie shook her head. “Oh, honey.”

Tess jogged down the stairs, heading toward her desk which sat with several others in a sectioned-off area of the warehouse. Tess liked to be near the action—the place where the ideas on paper became full-fledged art ready to roll down the parade route carrying the krewes and the thousands of throws revelers begged for. She’d loved the nook she’d carved out, and though the warehouse often grew noisy, she enjoyed feeling like a cog in the machinery that created magic for millions of people during the four-week Mardi Gras season. She focused better in an area she could move around, a place where she could see her visions carried out.

“Hey, Tess,” Dave Wegmann said, spinning in his chair, scratching his balding head. “Reeves Benson called about the Hera bid and wants you to call him back. Thought I’d sneak down here and take a peek at what Petra did with the globe.”

“He left a message with you?” Tess asked, trying like hell to pretend today was any other day. No way would she break down in front of Dave. He’d been here for as long as she remembered, first as a sculptor, then he’d moved to painting. After two back surgeries, he’d taken design courses and started working as the art director. Tess had learned all she knew about float building at Dave’s knee, and when she’d come to the company, they’d split the load of design, meeting regularly to schedule work and solidify the vision for each krewe’s contracted floats.

“Your phone kept ringing and it was driving me crazy. I’m also looking for the specs on the Cleopatra sea creature. Upstart’s trying to schmooze Cary Presley with some crazy hydra with motorized heads, so this float’s gotta be stellar.”

Any other time and Tess would agree, but she could hardly speak, much less bolster Dave on the Cleopatra bid. She sank into the squeaky chair beside the one Dave sat in and looked at the files and sketches scattering the surface of her desk.

Where to even start?

“Tess? You okay? You look weird.”

“Yeah.”

Dave shook his head and hunkered down, his fingers moving deftly over the face of the calculator, his eyes screwed up in concentration. “Okay, I found the file. Just...wanna...see...if...this...matches.”

She probably needed to get a box to put her stuff in. She had funny pictures tacked up on the corkboard beside the huge filing cabinets that held all the past year’s designs and sketches. Those designs would be systematically replaced over the course of the next few months with new designs for 2015, paying special attention to the repurposing of all the props. At Ullo they reused every part of the float, even joking about trading out toilet seats yearly. They begged, bartered and stole from last year’s floats to create the awesomeness of Mardi Gras 2014 for the various krewes around New Orleans and the outlying areas. A flurry of meetings nearly a month ago before this year’s parades had finished rolling had cemented projects for the upcoming season and those of 2016.

Tess picked up the bumblebee with the crazy boppy antennae Jules Roland, the head sculptor, had given her on her birthday. Tess the busy bee.

The clip of hard soles on the concrete floor interrupted her thoughts. Then she saw the wing tips.

“Tess?”

She looked up, meeting Graham’s blue eyes. Damn, they were pretty eyes. Too bad he was a creep.

“What?”

He swallowed and she watched the powerful muscles in his throat convulse. She’d kissed that sweet spot at the base of his neck. He’d smelled so good—sort of citrusy and clean—and he’d tasted salty and warm. Very solid. Very sexy.

“We need to talk.”

Dave looked up, tucking his pencil behind his ear. He raised bushy eyebrows. “What’s going on? Who’s this guy?”

Tess glanced over at her friend and mentor. “You’ll understand soon enough, Dave. But don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

She stood. “I don’t have much to say to you, Mr. Naquin, but what I do have will be better said in private.” Ice hung in her words.... Exactly what she intended. Part of her boiled over with anger, hurt and disappointment. The other part felt frigid and empty.

Graham had caused that particular arctic front when he’d never called...and then hadn’t been man enough to return the call she’d made two weeks ago.

Total asshole.

She stalked toward the exit, wishing she hadn’t worn jeans and sneakers. High heels tapping on the floor would have been much more dramatic. Pushing the bar that would lead to the smokers’ lounge high above the rough waters of the Mississippi, Tess inhaled not smoke, but the brackish, fetid air of the river. No one sat on the porch, but she didn’t want to be interrupted, so she quickly took the worn steps down to the deck several feet below, now glad she’d worn her tennis shoes.

Reaching the smaller landing holding an ancient picnic table and two chained deck chairs, she spun around. “You bastard.”

Graham stopped by the last step, shifting his gaze toward a tugboat pushing a colossal rusted barge. “I deserve that.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“I didn’t call you.”

His words were a day late and a dollar short. Didn’t matter anymore. She’d decided twenty minutes ago when she’d seen him sitting in her father’s office as the heir apparent she was way over the infatuation that had dominated her thoughts and body for weeks after he left her loft. That ship had sailed. Bye-bye.

“You think this is about you not calling?”

“It was rude.”

“It was pretty rude. But what did you think I wanted? Commitment? You were a fun screw, that’s it. So, no, this isn’t about you not calling.”

Something in his eyes wavered and she could tell he hadn’t expected such a casual dismissal. “A fun screw, huh?”

“For you, too, I imagine. If it were anything more you would have called me, right?” She lifted an eyebrow, feeling the righteousness in her anger.

“About that. See, there were some things going on....” He looked away, hiding from her, but she didn’t care. She meant what she said—what she felt—Graham meant nothing to her on that level. He was a used-to-be.

But on a professional level...

“What I have to say to you has nothing to do with that night a month ago. That’s over. This is the here and now, and you are the bastard who slinked into my company and stole my job.”

“Now, wait a minute.” He held up a hand. His was a nice hand—manicured nails, strong blunt fingers, wide palm. Very capable hands that had stroked her, loved her and made her believe in something that wasn’t real. “I didn’t slink into anything. In fact, your father never even mentioned you. I had no idea until today that he had a daughter who worked in the company.”

Knife wound. Tess clasped her chest before she could think better of betraying her emotions.

Her father hadn’t even mentioned her?

“What do you want me to say? Did he mention Dave? Or how about Petra? Jules? Red Jack? Bennie B? Or Scooter O’Neil?”

“No, he went over the departments, but never said he had a daughter who headed up operations. You know I didn’t sneak in here trying to steal anything from you. You can be pissed, but you have to be fair.”

Jabbing a finger at him, Tess said, “I don’t have to be anything. Don’t tell me what to do.”

Graham slid his hands into his pockets, making his shoulders beneath the poplin dress shirt look amazingly broad. Yeah, she hurt, but she hadn’t failed to notice his masculine charms, which pissed her off all over again. “Fine.”

For a few seconds they stood, defensive and wary.

Tess sighed. “What do you expect me to say?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. It’s a hard situation, but right now I don’t feel I can take the job.” He looked almost like a dog trying to nose the bone her way after he’d already gnawed off the fattest parts.

“Oh, please. Who passes up a job like this?” she said, trying not to hiss at him.

God, please tell me he’s not that stupid. Please tell me this isn’t some capricious acceptance of a job. She couldn’t handle it if he treated it like it was no big deal.

Graham shrugged. “Everything’s pretty much ruined. I can’t be your father’s pawn in a game I don’t even understand.”

“Pawn?”

“Well, something’s up. Otherwise you would have been in on this from the beginning, right? I don’t know why your father has done what he’s done, but I’m wading in uncharted waters without a compass.”

Tess didn’t want to admit he was partly right, didn’t want to forget the asshole status she’d assigned him. None of his admissions fixed anything in the world falling apart around her.

“I’m not going to lie. I need this job—it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me—but I never slinked in. I never took anything from you. I’m not saying I’m blameless or you shouldn’t be angry, but don’t paint me as what I’m not. I was a jerk to you, but I did nothing wrong in regard to this job.”

“A jerk I can deal with. This? Not so much,” she said, turning her head toward the far bank of Algiers Point. She didn’t want him to see the cracks in her. Didn’t want him to know how much his callous disregard almost a month ago had dinged her pride, had made her wonder why she wasn’t good enough for a guy to want as more than just a good time.

Why buy the cow... Her mother’s voice echoed inside her head.

Maybe that was Tess’s problem—she wanted to be in love, craved the touch of a man who would love her back, so much she plunged in without checking the depth.

In Graham’s case the water had been about six inches deep.

Splat.

Graham moved closer, his steps sounding sympathetic, even though Tess knew that was impossible. “Don’t,” she said, flinging out a hand.

“What?”

“Don’t come near me.”

He stopped, resting his hands on his hips. “Look, it will be easier for everyone if I dissolve the contract and move on. It’s the least I can do in this situation.”

Tess snorted. “The least you can do? Whatever. Spare me your sympathy.”

“It’s not sympathy. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“Well, don’t. I’m not working here. My father obviously doesn’t value me enough to think I can handle our family business. I won’t waste your time with how that makes me feel. He’s not giving the job to me so I could give a rat’s ass who takes it.”

Graham searched her face with shuttered eyes of arctic blue. “I can break the contract.”

“No, you can’t. My father gets what he wants, and he’s never played well when it comes to business. If you quit, he’ll sue you, wrap you up in red tape and hire someone else.”

Graham swallowed again. Hard. “Surely once I tell him our relationship—”

“Why? We don’t have a relationship. It was sex. Meaningless sex. Let’s not make it what it isn’t. Besides, why would he care? He’s a misogynist Italian who could have run the mafia but decided he’d rather screw people legally. Don’t let his Hush Puppies shoes fool you. Frank Ullo’s a shark.”

Graham seemed to think about this. “I still don’t feel right though. Doesn’t feel good to me.”

So now he feels bad? He should have felt bad two weeks ago when she put her heart on the line and called him, when she told him she’d never felt this way about anyone and asked him to call her. That’s when he should have been honorable and at least given her the decency of a call.

But she didn’t say that. Instead she shrugged. “Too bad. You’re the new boss. Might as well start thinking about who you are and how you want to be perceived by everyone here. He’s not going to let you go easily. He doesn’t care about ‘feelings.’”

Graham shook his head and she could feel his frustration. Welcome to the club, buddy.

“How can I take your job?”

“It wasn’t my job. My dad made his point—this is his company. Not mine. I suppose your first order of business will be to hire my replacement.” Tess stared toward the door. Like a wave heading her way, she could feel the emotion inside her building. She didn’t want to stay here any longer with a man who had rejected her as a woman. The man who had taken what she thought to be hers.... A man she still felt an ungodly attraction to even as her world unwound. Tess could pull off the ice-princess routine for only so long.... She was coming undone, and she’d be damned if she did it in front of anyone. Much less him. “See ya around.”

She tried to slide quickly by him, but he reached out. “Wait, Tess.”

“Please don’t touch me,” she begged, her voice almost at a whisper. She really couldn’t stand the tenderness in his touch. He felt sorry for her. That was all. And something about that hurt more than if he’d been the ruthless son of a bitch she’d wanted to paint him as.

“What can I do to make this right?” he asked, his voice plaintive and so freaking sincere.

“You can’t. Only I can make this right by moving on and proving I can be more than daddy’s little girl. The best you can do is to take care of this company. There are a lot of good people here and they deserve better than a half-assed job by their new boss.”

She wrenched her arm from his grasp and climbed the steps that would lead her to a place she loved...a place where she no longer belonged.

Quitting had been her choice and it had been one she had to make. Her assumptions had gotten her nothing but wounded pride, but she knew she wasn’t part of this business merely because her name was Ullo. She was good at her job. She’d brought in new accounts and the floats she oversaw were detailed and cost-effective. She hadn’t done well because her father owned the company...she’d done well because she’d pushed herself to live up to his name.

And now she would take her experience and foresight to a new company. She would show the world—and her father—just how good she was.

“Tess?” Graham’s voice carried on the river breeze.

He stood etched hard against the muddy waters and soft emerging spring green of the brush along the riverbank.

“I’m sorry.”

Tess lifted her chin. “At least someone is.”