Better Than Chance (2 page)

We giggled, but quickly got back to work. I needed as much information as possible to prepare for the seven-thirty meeting.

R
EBECCA
’
S
SOURCE
was solid. I entered the glass-enclosed meeting room five minutes early to find the head chair taken by his truly, Peter Morgan. He was on his cell phone, but lifted his head in greeting when I walked into the room. I sat three seats away in deference to his phone call and took the opportunity to study my new project supervisor.

God-like beautiful. It really was no exaggeration to say Peter Morgan was a blessed man in the looks department. He was taller than me, which made him instantly interesting, because at six foot three, I was always one of the taller men in any given room. His dark hair and classically gorgeous features reminded me of an Italian movie star or a GQ model. His hair was cut short and had an effortlessly styled look. His cheekbones were high and complemented his square jaw beautifully. In short, he was dreamy. I sighed and silently reprimanded myself. This delicious man was my boss, not a potential conquest. He was completely off-limits. An office romance wasn’t in the cards. Being a member of this project team was important for my career. I needed to show my professional and hardworking side, not get caught drooling over my straight project leader.

A few more people took seats around the table. Light chatter filled the conference room until Peter set his phone aside and immediately had the attention of everyone at the table. There were just eight of us gathered at the large glass table, which was a little odd since most of the firms we dealt with were large and required substantial resources and manpower on our part. Peter addressed the smaller than normal group and explained that this was a small but extremely important project. Each of us had been specifically chosen because of our superior skill sets and he was confident that we would be more than capable of completing our objective within the specified time frame. The gist was that they were asking eight people to do what sixteen people usually were assigned to do in two months. Two months was literally half the time normally allocated for any project.

No one groaned aloud but surely everyone’s internal reaction must have been similar to my own “
You’ve got to be fucking kidding, right
?” I didn’t say a word, though. I took copious notes and thanked my lucky stars when I saw that I had been paired with Melanie Martin for my portion. Mel was very bright and a hard worker, but she was blessed with a wicked sense of humor, which was more than I could say about a few of those assembled around the table. Everyone was very serious and determined to make a good impression. I was ready and willing to work hard also, but I could never understand why people tended to lose their ability to laugh at work. In my opinion, that’s when you needed it the most.

I soon realized that this supposed elite project I’d been assigned to would eat up practically every waking minute of every day, including my weekends for the next two months. I had to find some glimmer of humor to get through the grueling schedule in the weeks ahead. At that very moment, I came up blank. One bright spot was that at least I’d be treated to the regular dose of eye candy that was our handsome leader. Damn, Rebecca was right… he was fine.

I watched him carefully as he stood and drew our attention to the PowerPoint presentation behind him. His expensive charcoal suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders in all the right places. I wondered if he played sports when he was in high school or college. Maybe football. He had the build of a football player for sure. I could just see him in those tight pants and….

“Mr. Reynolds?”

Oh shit. I looked up to see Peter giving me a curious but somewhat dangerous look. He had obviously caught me gawking at him and wondered what the hell my problem was. I quickly refocused and gave what I hoped was a professional nod before asking him to repeat the question. I saw Mel hide a small grin, but otherwise I kept my eyes on the whiteboard and not on Mr. Morgan’s ass. This was going to be harder than I thought.

M
Y
CELL
phone vibrated on my desk later that afternoon. I had been in meetings all day, either with the entire team or with Mel. Tomorrow, each team would meet with Mr. Morgan to brief him on our initial plans for the project. Mel and I had divided our duties and would meet in the morning to collaborate before presenting our ideas to the boss. I had a long night ahead of me and all I wanted was to go home and curl up on my sofa watching reruns of
Will and Grace
. I checked the caller ID and smiled. Aaron always cheered me up.

“Jaybird, tell me all about your day. Is your new project worth the hangover you must have? I am suffering! Tell me I’m not alone.”

“You are most assuredly not alone.” I lowered my voice, although I was in my office with the door closed. “I’m not sure it’s going to be worth it, though.”

“Oh, honey. Want me to make you dinner? You can tell me all about it.”

“I wish. I’m going to be here for a while yet.” I filled Aaron in, and not for the first time, I found myself wishing we were attracted to each other.

Aaron was beautiful, smart, funny, and sexy as hell, but there was no spark between us. We were just too similar. Physically we looked nothing alike. Aaron was a little height-challenged at five foot eight. He was Puerto Rican American and blessed with gorgeous olive skin, dark hair, and pretty hazel eyes.

In contrast, my ancestors came over on the Mayflower. No joke. My dad loved to talk genealogy and would happily bore anyone who even pretended to be interested about the harsh conditions our forefathers braved back in 1620. Like everyone else in my family, my three older brothers, younger sister, and parents, I was taller than average with dark-blond hair and blue eyes. I knew I was considered good-looking, but I always thought my looks were more “boy next door” than pretty like Aaron’s.

Although we were night and day in the looks department, we loved all the same things. Techno-pop music, romantic comedies, shopping, dancing… we were perfect together. Except, he was my best friend only. As lovely as he was, I didn’t want to have sex with him. We kissed when we first met and ended up laughing our asses off. That’s when I knew I’d met someone special. If you can’t laugh, you cry. It’s easy enough to find someone to spend a night with, but someone you trust, admire, and want to shop with… not so easy.

Aaron listened and made all the right comments about “poor little Jay.” I felt a little better when I hung up, but I could have cried when I looked at my computer. I had so much to do and I didn’t know where to begin. I rubbed my hands over my face, stared unseeingly out my window for a minute, and then shook my head. So I wouldn’t see my friends or family for the rest of February, March, and half of April. My days and nights would be filled with spreadsheets and boring meetings. No partying. No fun. Oh well. I would survive. I hoped.

T
WO
WEEKS
later, I was beginning to lose my mind. I was a people person. I enjoyed meeting new people, and I’d always been good at small talk. A lobbyist was in a sense a salesperson. You had to possess good people skills as well as intelligence if you hoped to influence decisions on behalf of an important multi-billion dollar empire. But it occurred to me that Peter Morgan was the only face of this project, and while my role was important, I wasn’t going to spend much time meeting and greeting. I might get the odd assignment that would send me over to the Department of Energy, but that was hardly exciting.

At least Mel was a good partner. She wasn’t easygoing, but she wasn’t overly full of herself either. I was beginning to feel like everyone was on a major quest to impress. We all wanted to do well, of course, but there was no denying there was something about Peter Morgan that made you want to try a little harder. He had an almost dangerous air about him that clearly told anyone who paid attention that he did not suffer fools. So we put our heads down, determined to put forth our best effort. I arrived every day before the sun and went home to my empty townhouse well after darkness had fallen.

“H
E
SHOULD
be here any second. You ready?”

Mel ran her long, slender fingers through her short, dark hair. She wore it in a stylish bob that suited her small, pointed features. I noted she’d dressed with care this morning in a tight-fitted, long black wool skirt and a white button-down shirt. The scalloped collar and oversized white-beaded necklace kept her from looking like a waitress. I saw the red soles of her black high heels and made a quick comment about her breaking out her Louboutins to meet with the resident hottie. Mel actually blushed.

“You have a crush!” I accused giving her a mock appraising glare.

“Oh, be quiet! You do too! Are those Prada?” She pointed to my Italian loafers.

“Of course. But I wear these every day.”

“Yeah right. You have more shoes than me, Jay Reynolds. Don’t for one second try to deny it!”

I was about to tell her that was probably true, when a muffled sound near the door to the small conference room alerted us that we had company. And it looked like we’d been overheard. Great. The smallest facial twitch that I really couldn’t decipher was the only indication I had that Peter had been privy to the great shoe debate. But it was enough to make me uneasy. I was out at work, but I wasn’t overt, if that makes any sense. If I’m with friends or family members, my voice tends to embrace my southern self and yes, my gay self. Talking about shoes with a female coworker was surely not something my straight male coworkers were prone to do, but every once in a while, I couldn’t help myself. Mel and I had been spending a lot of time together. She knew I was gay, and she certainly didn’t care, but Peter Morgan… he was another story. I couldn’t read him. It frustrated me to no end. He was all business all the time from what little I could tell. He gave us each a brief nod as he settled into his chair at the head of the table and immediately got down to business.

We made our presentation, each of us separately reporting our analyses as we had agreed upon before Peter had entered the room. While Mel spoke, I stole surreptitious glances at our team leader. He was so damn good-looking I found myself going moony-eyed before I was able to refocus and try to gauge whether or not he approved our report content so far. His face was like granite. Gorgeous, but no eye movement, no twitch of the lips… no body language for me to read whatsoever.

When Mel wrapped up her segment, I began mine. I tend to be an animated speaker. I used to let my hands fly as I spoke, but after I knocked a presentation board over and sent a cup of coffee careening across the conference table when I first started at Jackson and Burnell, I trained myself to be less physical in a work setting. However, my voice took over where my hands wanted to go. I always thought appropriate vocal modulation made for a more entertaining than average boardroom meeting, and I was often able to capture my audience’s attention with a dose of levity.

Not this time. Peter sat with his arms folded across his broad chest and stared at the screen behind me, never once looking at me. When I retook my seat and the meeting finally wrapped up, Mel and I quickly made eye contact. I’m sure she was just as mystified as I was. Where was the feedback? We were used to having a dialogue of some type with the project leader, but it didn’t look like we’d be getting one. He simply gave us a brief nod, thanked us, and stood to leave. His cell phone rang and he took the call, moving over to the floor-to-ceiling window in the small conference room. I rolled my eyes at his back, and Mel giggled quietly. We were about to walk out of the room when Peter’s deep baritone voice called out.

“Thank you. I like the direction you’re taking. Melanie, good job. Jay, can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course.” My heart was suddenly beating out of my chest.

Why did he want to talk to me alone? It made no sense. I turned toward Mel and made my eyes comically wide, clearly asking without speaking,
What the fuck?
She closed the door softly as I turned to face Peter, calming my facial features and hoping they were as expressionless as his.

“Good report, Jay. I’d like to offer one critique regarding the language in paragraph five, page two, however. Rather than saying that we are going to….”

There was a part of me that wondered if I looked half as incredulous as I felt. Was he really giving me shit about my placement of a fucking adverb? I gave myself points for being a good team member, nodding and murmuring words of agreement at his suggestions when what I really wanted to do was smack him with my notebook. What a pompous prick!

“Thank you, Jay. I’ll be meeting with you and Melanie again in the next week or so.”

Peter sat back at the conference table and turned his full attention to his laptop. I had been dismissed. I bit my lip to keep from saying anything I’d regret and exited the room, closing the door behind me.

“What did he want?” Mel was waiting for me outside of my office. She looked worried, which made me just a little more angry. Didn’t that jerk realize that pulling me aside like that could cause tension between Mel and me? No one wanted to be paired with someone who might potentially drown them, and I resented that I was going to have to assure my partner that it was just a minor grammar infraction he wanted to chat about.

I sat heavily in my chair and filled her in.

“Seriously? That’s weird.”

“I agree.”

“Hmm. Have you done something to piss him off?” Mel chewed on the side of her thumbnail.

“Mel, I’ve seen him as often as you. I don’t know the guy at all and have been with him a handful of times total in relation only to this project. I don’t get it either. But I have to tell you… he may be sinfully handsome, but he’s looking a lot less attractive to me right now than he did when we first walked into that room today!”