Читать книгу The Billionaire and His Boss - Patricia Kay - Страница 8

Chapter One

Six weeks later…

Alex looked around his new apartment with satisfaction. This place, with its nondescript decor and discount-house furniture, was a far cry from his pad in the city, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t need fancy digs. Never had. The only reason he lived where and how he did was because it was expected of him in his position as the director of the Harrison Hunt Foundation.

Thinking about the foundation, he frowned. He’d put out every fire, assigned as many tasks as he could to others and taken care of everything else he could think of before telling his staff he was taking an extended leave of absence. And he knew his assistant, Martha Oliver, affectionately called Marti by all who knew her well, could be trusted to handle ninety-nine percent of anything else that might come up.

But it was that other one percent that worried Alex. Still, he was only a ninety-minute drive from downtown Seattle, and in an emergency, Marti could reach him on his cell and know he’d come as soon as possible. In fact, she’d been texting him religiously, keeping him up to date on everything. Alex made a mental note to give her a hefty bonus when this situation was finally resolved and he was back to work. Which, he hoped, would be soon.

He knew there was no reason to worry. Things would be fine while he was gone. He reminded himself that all he had to do was quickly find a suitable woman to marry, and he might not have to be away from the foundation for long at all.

Alex was not arrogant or vain. But he wasn’t unaware of his appeal. All his life he’d been told he was good-looking and wherever he went women made eye contact and flirted. So if he found someone who interested him and that he felt his father and his Aunt Cornelia would approve of, he suspected all he’d have to do was go through the motions women expected from a suitor.

After he and his brothers had decided to go along with Harry’s edict, Alex had given considerable thought to his strategy in the campaign to find the kind of wife he wanted. What he’d decided was he would never be able to do so while continuing to work at the foundation. He needed to go somewhere he wasn’t known and he needed to be working at an ordinary job with ordinary people.

Then he thoroughly researched Harry’s various holdings and narrowed them down to the one where he thought he might not stick out like a sore thumb. He told his father he wanted a position at their distribution center in Jansen, an hour and a half drive from Seattle—just south of Olympia. He already knew most folks in Jansen watched Portland television stations and read the Portland newspaper, so they’d be unlikely to recognize him from any of the publicity photos tied to the Hunt Foundation. And if anyone did recognize him, he’d simply say he was always being mistaken for one of the Hunt brothers.

Alex didn’t think he had to worry. He had always tried to keep a low profile. He hated society bashes and disliked the club scene. If not for the foundation and its work, he doubted anyone would ever recognize him as belonging to the Hunt family.

Today would be the true test, though, because in less than forty-five minutes, he would begin his new job at HuntCom’s main distribution center.

New job.

New apartment.

And new name.

He’d also decided that for the duration of his “hunt” he would be known as Alex Noble. It would be different if he were going to go to work somewhere that wasn’t associated with HuntCom, but at the distribution center there was no way he could be Alex Hunt without someone questioning the coincidence of the shared name.

So he’d decided on Noble, which was the surname of a previous stepfather. Alex’s mother, Lucinda Parker Hunt Noble Fitzpatrick, was on her third marriage and Alex had once cynically figured it wouldn’t be her last, although he’d finally conceded that maybe Terrence Fitzpatrick was the real deal. He and Alex’s mother had recently celebrated their twenty-fourth wedding anniversary.

There were things about Terrence Alex didn’t like, namely his penchant for thinking money could solve any problem, but he’d done one thing right. He’d given Alex a much-loved younger sister, Julie, although Terrence was doing his level best to spoil her with the enormous amounts of money and gifts he lavished upon her.

Thinking about Julie and her recent escapades, Alex frowned. He wished he could get through to her, but she laughed off his concern, telling him he was “stodgy” and “old-fashioned” and had forgotten what it was like to be young.

Her scorn, even though delivered with affection, had hurt. Alex didn’t think he was stodgy. He was just sensible and practical. So he didn’t worship at the altar of money and power. Did that mean there was something wrong with him? He guessed in his little sister’s crowd, it probably did.

He was still thinking about Julie when he pulled into the employee parking lot at the HuntCom Distribution Center. But when he emptied his pockets and passed through security, he deliberately put her out of his mind. Today he couldn’t afford to be distracted by Julie or anything else. He would need all his wits about him to pull off a successful masquerade.

It took an hour to fill out necessary paperwork and watch an orientation film in the human resources department, but by nine o’clock—he was on the first shift which began at eight in the morning—the HR manager’s assistant, who made a point of telling him her name was Kim, walked him down to the gigantic storage center, which was a beehive of activity.

Alex couldn’t help grinning when a young girl with purple spiked hair whizzed by them on roller blades. At his quizzical look, Kim said, “That’s Ruby. She’s also a picker.”

Alex frowned. “Picker?”

“Sorry. Merchandise rep. Same job you’re going to do. You know, pick the merchandise from the shelves so it can be shipped to the company or person who placed the order.”

“Ah.” It amused Alex to think what his colleagues at the foundation would say if they could see him now. Most, he knew, were in awe of him. After all, he was one of the mighty Hunts. They respected him, because he worked as hard or harder than they did, and they knew he cared about the work they were doing, but they still couldn’t manage to treat him the way they treated the others on staff. To them, he was out of their league.

“I’m sure you’ll be great at the job,” Kim said, giving him an admiring glance.

Alex wasn’t interested; he’d seen her wedding band. So all he said was, “Hope so.”

She led Alex toward a cluster of several people who seemed to be arguing about something. When they spied him, the conversation abruptly stopped and a young woman—a very attractive young woman, Alex noticed—with wildly curly red hair tied back with a navy-blue ribbon and dressed in snug jeans and a white blouse open at the throat, broke away from the group and strode toward them. Very blue eyes filled with intelligence gave him a quick assessment before turning their intensity on Kim.

“Um, P.J.,” she said, “this is Alex Noble, the new member of your crew. Alex, this is P.J. Kincaid, the floor supervisor.”

Alex wondered if P.J. had adopted initials in lieu of her first name for the same reason J.T. had adopted his, because she hated her given name. J.T. had said Jared was a sissy name and he would kill anyone who insisted upon using it.

“Hello,” P.J. said, thrusting out her right hand. “Welcome to HuntCom.”

Alex took her hand and gave it a firm shake. Hers was just as firm. “Hello,” he said.

“Good luck,” Kim said. She smiled at him, then turned and walked off.

When Alex’s attention returned to P.J., her eyes met his squarely. Something about their steady scrutiny disturbed Alex. Did she suspect something? He forced himself not to drop his gaze.

“I’m told you have experience,” she said.

Yes, that was definitely a hint of doubt in her voice. Deciding brevity was his best bet, Alex nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“And you worked…where…before?”

Sticking to what it said on his fake résumé, Alex answered, “At a warehouse in Sacramento.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “What kind of products?”

“Household appliances.”

Her eyes remained speculative. “Why’d you leave?”

He made his voice light. “Couldn’t very well commute from here.”

She nodded, but instinct told him she wasn’t completely buying his story. “You’ve completed all your paperwork?”

“Yes.”

“Had your physical and drug testing?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t true, but on paper, it said Alex had done so and passed.

“So…you ready to go to work?”

“Yes, I am.”

Turning, she gestured to one of the men in the group still gathered nearby. “Rick.”

A dark-haired, dark-eyed man Alex judged to be in his late twenties or early thirties walked toward them. Like P.J. and Alex and almost everyone Alex had seen so far, except for the employees of the HR department, he wore jeans. His black T-shirt hawked a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert.

“Rick,” she said, “this is Alex Noble. You’ll be training him.” Meeting Alex’s eyes again, she said, “Alex, this is Rick Alvarado. He’s been with the company seven years and can answer any questions you might have.”

The two men shook hands. Rick’s eyes were friendly. Alex liked him immediately and sensed he could turn out to be a friend.

“Follow me,” Rick said. “I’ll give you a tour of the place so you can get a general idea of where everything is stored.” He kept up a running commentary as they headed down the nearest aisle. “You know much about the company, Alex?”

Alex nodded. “Quite a bit. I researched it when I knew I was going to be working here.”

“So you know old man Hunt started out by coming up with a new software and things escalated from there?”

Alex nodded.

“Now we manufacture just about everything in the computer field,” Rick continued. “We have over three thousand products that we ship from this location.”

“That many?” Alex said, although he’d already known this.

“Keeps us hopping 24/7. We run three shifts. Eight to four, four to twelve, twelve to eight. Lots of the guys like the afternoon and night shifts, but me, I like days.’ Course, I work the other shifts anytime they need extra hands,’ cause it’s overtime, and with three little girls and a wife who likes to give those old charge cards a workout…” He laughed. “I can always use the money.”

“Three little girls, huh?”

Rick grinned. “Yeah, we had ’em pretty close together. My oldest is eight, the youngest is four.” Pulling a wallet from his hip pocket, he took out several photos. “I’ll only do this once,” he promised, handing Alex the pictures.

Alex smiled at the likenesses. All three girls had curly dark hair and dark eyes. “They sure are cute.”

“Yeah,” Rick said proudly. “They’re good kids, too. Maria, she’s been a stay-at-home mom, but in September Jenny, she’s the youngest, starts school, so Maria’s going to go back to work.”

“What does she do?” Alex asked politely.

“She’s a preschool teacher. She’ll be teaching at Jenny’s school.”

By now, they’d stopped in a densely stocked aisle.

“You don’t have to remember everything I’m gonna show you,” Rick said. “I’m just giving you an overview. You’ll get a diagram of the place and a product list showing where each of the different products can be found. It’ll take you a while, but after a couple of weeks, you’ll be an old pro at this.”

Alex hoped so. The last thing he wanted to do was fuel that doubt he’d seen in his new boss’s eyes. He was going to have a hard enough time of it remembering to keep in character without worrying about keeping her happy, too. “This place is huge. Do we fill orders from all over or just in certain areas?”

“The center’s divided into four quadrants,” Rick said. “Our unit fills orders for Quad B. I’ll show you. We’ll walk the whole quad. Actually, you’ll probably want to become familiar with all the quads eventually.”

“Why is that?”

“Sometimes certain products sell heavily, like when we’re running a special promotion or something, and you might be asked to fill in at one of the other quads.”

Alex nodded. That made sense. “Does P.J. supervise all the quads?”

Rick nodded. “Yep. She’s the boss. Only one higher than her here is Steve Mallery, the GM.”

Just then, the girl with the purple hair skated by.

“Ruby,” Alex said.

Rick laughed. “You know about her, huh?”

“The clerk who brought me down from HR told me her name.”

“Ruby looks like a punk rocker with those tattoos and all the body piercings, but she’s okay. She’s one of our best pickers.”

“I admit I was surprised to see the roller blades.”

“A couple of the kids use them. Wish I could skate. I’d wear ’em, too. You can sure get around faster. But I’d probably kill myself. Or if not that, break a leg or something.”

“I know what you mean,” Alex said, although he prided himself on being physically fit. Still, he wasn’t a skater. Never had been.

Rick smiled and turned his attention back to the merchandise. “Okay, Alex, lesson number one. Here’s how we stock the products….”

Frat boy.

It was the first thing P.J. thought when she was introduced toAlex. What was he doing there? All P.J.’d had to do was look at him to know he didn’t belong. He was too good-looking and way too polished. His hands alone told the story. No calluses. No rough skin. Clean, manicured nails. Long, elegant fingers.

And then there were his teeth. P.J. always noticed people’s teeth, for they indicated class and financial status more than anything else. And Alex’s teeth were gorgeous—straight and white. Obviously, they’d been well cared for.

She wondered if he’d once held a top-level job, maybe lost it due to drugs or alcohol. Or maybe he’s a corporate spy, sent here to find out if we’re doing a good job. If I’m doing a good job.

The thought was sobering. It also pissed her off. Because P.J. worked hard, harder even than her crew. She had to. She was a woman supervising mostly men. She constantly had to prove herself.

Geez, if corporate wanted to know what was going on here, all they had to do was talk to Steve, or better yet, be above board and come and observe the center openly. They’d soon see what a tight ship she ran.

Well, she’d keep a close eye on Alex Noble. And if he was a spy, she’d soon find out. In the meantime, she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. And yet, even as she was telling herself all of this, she couldn’t deny the frisson of attraction she’d felt when they shook hands. Acknowledging this, she was infuriated with her body’s betrayal.

What’s wrong with you? Alex Noble was so not the kind of man she wanted in her life. Ever since she was old enough to know better, she’d envisioned herself with a man who held the same beliefs she did: say, a union boss or champion of migrant workers. Someone she could respect and admire for his ideas and not how well he filled out a pair of jeans.

Certainly not for his sexy dimples or his thick, wavy hair or his dark-chocolate eyes.

Dark chocolate!

Had she really thought that?

But even as she chastised herself for the gushy term, she knew it applied. His eyes really had reminded her of dark chocolate. Sweet, melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate. The kind of eyes a woman could lose herself in. Just remembering the way he’d looked at her gave her a funny feeling in her stomach.

Oh, man, Kincaid, you’ve been celibate way too long. You really need to get laid.

“P.J.”

P.J. jumped.

“You looked like you were miles away. I called your name twice.”

The speaker was P.J.’s best friend at work—Anna Garcia. Actually, for the past six years, Anna had been P.J.’s best friend, period. P.J. smiled at the pretty brunette. “What’s up?”

“We having lunch together today?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Want to eat in the cafeteria or outside?”

“It’s a nice day. Let’s eat outside.” When the distribution center had been built, HuntCom had made sure the area surrounding was beautifully landscaped and that there were pockets of trees and flower beds interspersed with walkways and areas with picnic tables. Employees were urged to use the grounds on their breaks, although the smokers grumbled that there were too few places for them to indulge in their habit. Although P.J. didn’t admire many corporate titans—she’d grown up around too many of them—Harrison Hunt actually seemed to care about his employees.

Be fair. So does Dad.

Well, yes, her own father also treated his employees fairly and sometimes even generously. But he and Harrison Hunt seemed to be the exceptions.

After Anna had headed back to the mailing center, which she supervised, P.J. printed out the newest batch of orders that had come through in the past hour. After sorting them, she handed the orders for Quads A, C, and D to Chick Fogarty, her assistant, to distribute, then walked toward aisle 24, where they stocked some of the peripherals in their inventory. She knew this was where Rick would have started Alex’s training.

Sure enough, the two men were standing in front of the section where the eighteen different mouses they sold were stored, and although P.J. stood well back as she watched, she could hear Rick naming them as he pointed out how they were arranged by model number.

“I can’t believe there are so many different kinds,” Alex was saying. “Do we really sell all of them?”

“Yeah, we do,” Rick answered. “Hey, I personally have three at home. A wireless, a basic USB plug-in, and a mini for when I travel. You got a computer?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. I bought myself a laptop last year.”

“One of ours?”

“Uh, no. I guess I shouldn’t say that too loud.”

“Not if you don’t want the boss lady to hear.” Rick glanced over at P.J. and grinned. “’Course, it’s too late. She already did.”

Alex whipped around.

P.J. almost laughed at the guilty expression on his face. Walking over to them, she said, “It’s okay, Alex. Buying a Hunt computer is not a prerequisite for working here. However, we do give a hefty discount to our employees, so if you decide to upgrade or buy something else in our product line, you’ll save quite a bit of money.”

Deciding Rick had everything under control, P.J. handed him half the stack of new orders. “You can get started on these whenever you feel Alex is ready.”

Rick gave her a salute. “Okay, boss.”

Alex’s eyes met hers briefly before he looked away. And once again, P.J. felt that unwelcome spark of awareness and attraction.

She frowned. Damn. She had to get control of herself and quit acting like a silly teenager.

Quickly striding away, she decided the best thing for her would be to give Alex Noble a wide berth. A really wide berth. On the other hand, that wouldn’t be the best thing for HuntCom.

In fact, she should probably keep a close eye on him these first few weeks. Make sure he was actually doing the job he’d been hired to do.

But for the rest of the morning, she kept her distance. She would quiz Rick later, see what he thought. Maybe she was just paranoid about Alex because he was so attractive. Face it, she chided herself, you’ve been exposed to too many good-looking, self-centered, arrogant men in your lifetime and now you think they’re all like that.

Maybe Alex Noble would prove to be the exception.

Yeah, right.

But P.J. wasn’t going to hold her breath.