hour of the
day too, it seemed.
Having ordered an egg and cheese bagel and a
large cappuccino, she was rootling around in her over-sized shoulder bag for
her money, when Jack decided to speak. Until that moment he couldn't really be
sure he was going to say anything, but suddenly, standing behind her in the
line, getting another soft drift of her perfume, it felt necessary that he
acknowledge her. Make her see him. And find out if she knew he was her "Sir"
from last night.
"So you're a bookworm from Maple syrup
country, huh?" He cringed inwardly at this strange gauche opening. That
was what happened, of course, when one was out of circulation for so many
years. Should have got some tips from Charlie, he thought glumly.
She paused her rummaging and looked up. Surprise
flicked across her face, but it didn't take many seconds for her to reply.
"So you're the boss who likes springing things on his employees."
He hadn't expected her to come back at him with
an accusation, but clearly she wasn't awestruck by the big boss showing her
some attention. Jack stared at her pert lips. "Springing?"
"Showing up unexpectedly and walking into a
staff meeting unannounced."
Well, she wasn't shy with her opinions, Jack
mused, and apparently she was cross about something. Again. So irate that she
forgot to be polite to her boss. Of course his, "showing up
unexpectedly" at work must have startled her in more ways than one. He
smiled. "It keeps people on their toes."
"And making the new girl from the sticks
head-up a party planning committee. Out of the blue. With a few weeks to make a
Centennial party happen."
"Hey, if you can't handle it, I'll
find—"
Oh, that just made more bristles stand to
attention. "I didn't say that."
"Ok, then—"
"But I don't appreciate you inferring that
because I'm from Vermont I might not be sophisticated enough to plan a
party."
Had he, in his rustiness, accidentally inferred
that? He thought she was the one doubting her abilities, not him? Oh yeah, he
forgot. Women liked to spin things around and it was often better to just go
with it and apologize, even when it wasn't his fault. Jack scratched his head,
but before he could reply she added a terse, "Vermont produces more than
maple syrup, you know."
"Right. Of course, it does." Shit,
he'd forgotten how conversation with a woman could occasionally make him feel
as if they were on two different planes of consciousness.
Her shoulders relaxed as she finally found her
purse inside that enormous shoulder bag. "So don't assume you know about
me."
All this was because of his stupid opening line?
Christ, he was out of practice. Or
she was just incredibly jumpy. Was she like that with all men, or just him? He
tipped his head to one side. "And maybe you shouldn't assume you know
about me."
She shrugged and handed her money over the
counter. "I'm fairly perceptive and that's something men often lack."
He was amused. At her age, what did she know
about men? "Oh, really?"
"Yep. I already know that you like
upsetting the apple cart. It's your management style. Clearly you're of the prefers to be feared rather than liked variety. It makes you feel good to waltz into the office with everyone on the
back foot. And by making an appearance so rarely, no one expects you to actually
do anything while you're here. They're all accustomed to managing without you,
but you get to look important for a few hours and you have them fooled into
believing the hype." She dropped
some coins on the counter and they spun all over the place, some falling to the
floor. Then he realized she was nervous and flustered; that was why she talked
so fast.
"I guess you got me." Jack crouched to
help her retrieve the coins before they rolled out of sight. "I don't know
many people brave enough to give their boss such a brutal performance
evaluation. Especially this early in the relationship. But then a girl who
tells the President how to do his job probably thinks she knows how I should
day too, it seemed.
Having ordered an egg and cheese bagel and a
large cappuccino, she was rootling around in her over-sized shoulder bag for
her money, when Jack decided to speak. Until that moment he couldn't really be
sure he was going to say anything, but suddenly, standing behind her in the
line, getting another soft drift of her perfume, it felt necessary that he
acknowledge her. Make her see him. And find out if she knew he was her "Sir"
from last night.
"So you're a bookworm from Maple syrup
country, huh?" He cringed inwardly at this strange gauche opening. That
was what happened, of course, when one was out of circulation for so many
years. Should have got some tips from Charlie, he thought glumly.
She paused her rummaging and looked up. Surprise
flicked across her face, but it didn't take many seconds for her to reply.
"So you're the boss who likes springing things on his employees."
He hadn't expected her to come back at him with
an accusation, but clearly she wasn't awestruck by the big boss showing her
some attention. Jack stared at her pert lips. "Springing?"
"Showing up unexpectedly and walking into a
staff meeting unannounced."
Well, she wasn't shy with her opinions, Jack
mused, and apparently she was cross about something. Again. So irate that she
forgot to be polite to her boss. Of course his, "showing up
unexpectedly" at work must have startled her in more ways than one. He
smiled. "It keeps people on their toes."
"And making the new girl from the sticks
head-up a party planning committee. Out of the blue. With a few weeks to make a
Centennial party happen."
"Hey, if you can't handle it, I'll
find—"
Oh, that just made more bristles stand to
attention. "I didn't say that."
"Ok, then—"
"But I don't appreciate you inferring that
because I'm from Vermont I might not be sophisticated enough to plan a
party."
Had he, in his rustiness, accidentally inferred
that? He thought she was the one doubting her abilities, not him? Oh yeah, he
forgot. Women liked to spin things around and it was often better to just go
with it and apologize, even when it wasn't his fault. Jack scratched his head,
but before he could reply she added a terse, "Vermont produces more than
maple syrup, you know."
"Right. Of course, it does." Shit,
he'd forgotten how conversation with a woman could occasionally make him feel
as if they were on two different planes of consciousness.
Her shoulders relaxed as she finally found her
purse inside that enormous shoulder bag. "So don't assume you know about
me."
All this was because of his stupid opening line?
Christ, he was out of practice. Or
she was just incredibly jumpy. Was she like that with all men, or just him? He
tipped his head to one side. "And maybe you shouldn't assume you know
about me."
She shrugged and handed her money over the
counter. "I'm fairly perceptive and that's something men often lack."
He was amused. At her age, what did she know
about men? "Oh, really?"
"Yep. I already know that you like
upsetting the apple cart. It's your management style. Clearly you're of the prefers to be feared rather than liked variety. It makes you feel good to waltz into the office with everyone on the
back foot. And by making an appearance so rarely, no one expects you to actually
do anything while you're here. They're all accustomed to managing without you,
but you get to look important for a few hours and you have them fooled into
believing the hype." She dropped
some coins on the counter and they spun all over the place, some falling to the
floor. Then he realized she was nervous and flustered; that was why she talked
so fast.
"I guess you got me." Jack crouched to
help her retrieve the coins before they rolled out of sight. "I don't know
many people brave enough to give their boss such a brutal performance
evaluation. Especially this early in the relationship. But then a girl who
tells the President how to do his job probably thinks she knows how I should
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