One Way to Succeed (Casas de Buen Dia Book 1) (10 page)

“Okay, look,” Rick said, reaching out and putting his hands on Tom’s shoulders. He stood at least six inches taller, and the gesture could easily have been interpreted as hostile. Tom seemed to shrink under the weight of Rick’s arms, but he didn’t try to wiggle away.

“If you get rid of it, I’ll ask my marketing guy to figure out some way to create some exposure for you,” Rick said. “But, I don’t want this false advertising. I need to get credit for my projects, too.” He slapped Tom’s shoulders companionably and waited for him to meet his eyes in agreement.

“Alright.” Tom shrugged again. “Is Guy going to call me?”

“I’ll make sure of it. Now, how’s the project going?”

Rick walked around the building with Tom and then stopped to talk with the electrician. Although the job was still a little behind where Rick thought it should be at that point, he wasn’t terribly worried. He didn’t have anything new begging for his attention, so the only problem with the delay was the additional cost of financing, and with interest rates as low as they were, he wasn’t in danger of losing money on the venture.

Rick settled back into the Z3 to head to the next project, he saw a car that looked just like Amy’s matching Z3 parked down the street a ways out of the corner of his eye. He fought to keep from looking directly at it, trying to catch as much out of his peripheral vision as possible.

Was that Amy? Was she spying on him? If she had driven to look over the project, why didn’t she come over and talk? Why would she hide?

As he pulled away from the curb, he stole a glance in his rear view mirror. Amy was just getting out of the car and walking up to the hotel. She must have just arrived, he thought. And maybe she didn’t see him.

Or maybe she didn’t want him to know what she was doing.

As he drove away, he cursed at himself for being paranoid.  At least he hoped he was just being paranoid.

The Coral Seas Lounge next to the Tropicale was loud and packed with a few barely clad women and dozens of gay men in sleeveless shirts and skin-tight jeans—none of which surprised Amy or Katie. They liked the place for its so-artsy-deco vibe and the likelihood they’d be unmolested by straight males looking for dance partners. Amy guessed that most of the skin-flashing women were tourists who didn’t know that they’d have more luck finding fish on bicycles than straight men on the north side of downtown.  

They were only on their second mojito and Katie had already managed to bust through Amy’s pledge to herself not to share any details about her encounter with Rick in the casita.

What was it about a good kiss that made it so hard to
not
kiss and tell? Amy wondered. Was it the incarnation of the combined physical and emotional punch of a long-anticipated embrace? Even though the evening had ended suddenly, with Rick’s anger at his mother, she knew his kiss was brought on by more than just her cleavage. 

“You have to keep this to yourself!” Katie concluded at the end of Amy’s Readers’ Digest version—both abridged and PG—of the night before.

“Well, you just pried it out of me!” Amy laughed.

“It wasn’t that hard. But if anyone else finds out he’s such a good kisser, you’re never going to hang on to him. Every single woman in this town is going to be swarming all over him.”

Amy believed that was already the case. Sandra, the receptionist, had told her how Gloria’s “hots” for Rick that apparently contributed to her dismissal. And by the condescending way she told that story, Amy considered that Sandra might be hiding her own infatuation as well.

“Well, I’m not going to write a letter to the editor about it,” Amy said, laughing at the idea. Then it occurred to her: this was no laughing matter. She was really enjoying her new job, and it wasn’t just because Rick was in the office next to hers. The challenges of finding properties, negotiating their purchase, permitting the construction, and completing the project, as well as the gratification that could come from managing the business well intrigued her already, and she had just started. She could see a promising future for herself at Buen Dia, a future that involved much more than answering the phone and running documents up to city hall. A future that finally constituted a real career.

She intended to prove herself to Rick, but now, would that be possible?

“I really don’t want anyone to know about Rick and me,” she said, frowning down at her drink. “If there is a Rick and me. It didn’t end so great, so who knows. But the last thing I want is for people—even you, my best friend—to think I succeed because I’m willing to sleep with the boss.”

“But wait a minute.” Katie knew Amy well enough to know that frown meant serious business.  “You got the job
before
you kissed him. You didn’t get it
because
you kissed him.”

“Yes, that’s true, but administrative assistant is not the job I want.” Amy twirled the straw in her mojito, watching the neon lights in the room bounce around in the ice cubes. She looked up at Katie. “I don’t want to sound egotistical, but I know I can do so much more.”

“Well, why can’t you?” Katie raised her eyebrows. “Just because Rick likes you, does that mean he can’t promote you? That he can’t work with you?”

“I don’t know,” Amy admitted. “His mother said something the other night, something about how there were no women in Rick’s office who weren’t receptionists or secretaries. And Rick’s former admin was fired, in part because she was interested in him. It makes me wonder. I think I can handle both work and romance, but I’m not sure he can.”

Amy watched Katie mull that over. Even though her friend seemed to have no interest in a career beyond the café where they had worked together, she knew Katie, too, was capable of more. Not that waiting on tables didn’t require skill; it called for talents as varied as multi-tasking, sociability, and organization, as well as physical endurance. Amy knew it wasn’t easy.

Now Katie turned. “You know, I was really happy for you when you got that job,” she said. “And happy for myself. It’s hard to make friends in Palm Springs if you’re not L.A.-trendy, if you are female and you’re straight. And if you don’t play golf. I was so worried when you were looking for a job that you would leave town. So don’t blame me if I want to see the possibilities here, and not the problems. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Ah, thanks, Katie.” Amy stood up from her bar stool and hugged her friend. “I hope you’re right. I’d like to make this work. And, I’d rather not have to choose between having my cake and eating it too.”

She sat back down and knocked her mojito glass over with her elbow. Luckily for her, it was already empty.

That night, Amy ended up sleeping on the couch in Katie’s apartment, just two blocks east of the Tropicale. Too many mojitos in too short of a time made it unwise to drive her little BMW the five miles to her condo in south Palm Springs. They left their cars parked on the street and walked.

The next morning they walked past Tropicale to Cheeky’s for breakfast, stoically enduring the hour wait for a table. Amy was glad to have chatty Katie to entertain her. It helped blunt her worries about going back to work the next day. How would Rick react to what happened? Would he be sorry? Would he call her into his office and fire her right away, to avoid any further complications?

In between fretting about her future, though, all she could think about was the warmth of his hands on her body and his seductive kiss.

~

Monday morning, Amy decided to postpone the imminent reckoning with Rick at the office. She had been meaning to visit the company’s three job sites and see what she was helping to accomplish.

After stopping at the Starbucks, she drove to the inn that was nearly finished—the former Dew Tune Inn, yet to be redubbed for its new incarnation. It was a simple, art-deco style U-shape of ten rooms and a small office, all facing a center courtyard filled with large succulents and tall, wispy palo verde trees. None of the workers had arrived yet, and the rooms were still locked, so she sat down on one of the benches scattered around the perimeter of the open space and finished her latte.

Blocks away from the main drags in the center of town, the courtyard was quiet, almost spookily quiet. Amy sat still and closed her eyes. She concentrated on her breathing, her heart beat, the sensation of a caffeine-induced electric current coursing through her limbs. What a magnificent way to start a Monday morning, she thought.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” A voice jolted her from her trance.

“Oh,” Amy said, jumping up and knocking her latte onto the ground. She bent over to retrieve it and looked up at the scruffy young man who had interrupted her reverie.

“I’m Amy Prentiss,” she said, holding out her hand for a business-like shake. “I just started working for Rick and I just wanted to stop by and see what we’re working on.”

The young man ignored her outstretched hand. He stood with his hands on his hips.

“I don’t recall Rick talking about any Amy,” he said. “Do you have a business card or something?”

“Uh, no,” she said. “I’m just an admin.”

Immediately, she regretted it. If this young man was someone whom Rick contracted with frequently, calling herself “just an admin” wasn’t going to get them off on the right footing.

“What happened to Gloria?” the young man answered.

“I’m not sure, but I’m her replacement.” 

He stepped back and unabashedly looked Amy up and down as if measuring her appearance against his memory of the woman Amy had replaced.

“Hmmm,” he said, finally, stroking his chin and motioning at the rooms behind him. “You want to see inside?”

Apparently, she had passed muster, whatever his criteria were for approval. Amy nodded and followed him to the small office.

“I didn’t get your name,” she said, standing behind him as he unlocked the door.

“Don. I’m the finish guy. I do paint and finish carpentry.”

Amy spent a polite amount of time following Don around the property and nodding appreciatively at his workmanship. He warmed up to his subject quickly, and it was clear that he was proud of what he did. They parted friends.

She had just parked about a half-block down the street from the newly dubbed Corona Inn where she had once worked when she saw Rick come out of the front of the building and clasp hands with a man who looked like another contractor. The sight of him—her first since she left him at the office garage Friday night—sent a shiver through her body. She held her breath, sat, and watched him at work.

Too far away to hear what either man was saying, Amy could nevertheless tell that Rick was in control of the situation. He stood tall and relaxed, showing no hesitation on his end of the conversation. It was a demonstration of quiet authority, and to Amy, it was an aphrodisiac. Now she knew she couldn’t get out of the car until he left.

“Oh, my!” she whispered. “Breathe! Look away and breathe!”

Rick finished with his discussion, slapped the contractor on the back companionably and jumped in his truck. His face turned slightly in her direction, but it didn’t register recognition. She hoped he hadn’t seen her, even though there was nothing wrong with what she was doing. Her only concern was that she’d have to greet him the first time since Friday in public. She wasn’t sure she would handle it well.

They needed to act normal, she vowed. The last thing she wanted was for people to think she was sleeping with the boss. But how could it not happen? The way they both had embraced in the casita, it was clear that neither of them had seduced the other. The attraction couldn’t have been more mutual, could it?

Once Rick left, Amy got out of her car. But then she decided to skip taking a tour or visiting the single-family home on the north side, and she stepped back in to the Z3 and headed to the office. Driving slowly through the Warm Sands neighborhood, enjoying the warm fall morning, she noticed a beautiful stand of trees towering over a shabby, crumbling fence and a tumbled heap of dead and dying mesquite bushes on the south side of the quiet street. She stopped and backed up the car. The mess comprised at least two lots—maybe three. It was rare to find an undeveloped lot this close to downtown, especially in the midst of a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood.

How could it still be here? she wondered. There was no real estate sign indicating it was for sale. Why hadn’t someone built something fantastic on it? It would be perfect for a low, sprawling mansion, or a small hotel. She noticed a rather nice small inn just two doors away. Perhaps the zoning was right, too.

Amy looked for number on the garage door of the house across the street. She drove up to the next intersection and took note of the street name. She needed to share this with Rick. She didn’t know if he ever had the chance to build something new from scratch, from the dirt up, but this would be a perfect place to do it.

~

Sandra greeted Amy a bit coldly when she got to the office, and Amy jotted a note on her ever-evolving “to-do” list to ask the receptionist to lunch sometime this week. She really wanted to maintain a good relationship with the only other woman in the office by finding out and fixing whatever might have caused this apparent, sudden distance between them.

Amy turned on her computer and grabbed a cup of coffee while she waited for it to boot up.

She had beaten Rick into the office, giving herself some time to bury her head in the tasks she’d started the week before and take her mind off of the prurient aspects of her job. But, first, she left a note on his door.

“Let me know when you’re in. Amy,” she wrote.  

She wanted to talk to him as soon as possible about wanting to keep their new relationship, whatever it was, secret. She waited anxiously. An hour passed before he walked by her open door. She could hear him pause in front of his, and then walk back toward her.

He leaned around the transom. “Meet in my office?” he proposed in an all-business tone.

Amy looked up from her computer. “Yes, right away,” she said, sounding as efficient and cool as she could. She got up, straightened the creases on the front of her khaki pants with sweaty hands, and walked into his office with a notebook. 

“Where were you this morning?” he asked, sounding anything but besotted with her. His voice was all business.

“I drove around, scouting for potential properties,” she answered flatly. “Do you want me to close the door?”

Rick nodded. As soon as she turned back around to face him, he reached for her. His kiss was urgent and demanding, and she responded in kind. It was exactly the confirmation she needed, and had needed it as soon as possible. He held her face to his, his fingers deep in her hair, his other hand pressing tightly on her back. She pressed her hips up to his, and felt his crotch stiffening. Finally, he let his lips move up to her eyes, her forehead, and her hair, and she leaned against him. 

“We have to keep this a secret,” she whispered, surrounded by his arms.

“Yes, I agree,” Rick said, his lips next to her ear. “Whatever this is.”

~

Neither of them seemed to be in a hurry, but eventually, Amy pulled away, and Rick let her go. She sat down on his couch, and he slipped quickly behind his desk. She imagined he was relieved to be able to hide one particular part of his anatomy behind it.