A Bargain With The Boss

Two

Amber was torn between annoyance and sympathy.

For the past week, Tuck had arrived at the office promptly at eight. He seemed a little groggy for the first hour, and she’d fallen into the habit of having a large coffee on his desk waiting for him. She could only guess that he hadn’t yet modified his playboy nights to fit his workday schedule.

She’d moved from her desk near Dixon’s office to the desk outside Tuck’s office. Tuck didn’t have his own assistant, since he was so rarely there, but now he was taking on Dixon’s work. He was also taking on Jamison’s. Margaret had been out sick most days since Jamison’s heart attack, so Amber was keeping in communication with directors and managers and all of their assistants, trying to be sure nothing fell through the cracks.

This morning, voices were raised behind Tuck’s closed door. He was meeting with Zachary Ingles, the marketing director. They were two weeks from the New York trade show and deadlines were rapidly piling up.

“You were tasked with approving the final branding,” Zachary was shouting. “I sent three options. It’s all in the email.”

“I have two thousand emails in my in-basket,” Tuck returned.

“Your disorganization is not my problem. We’ve missed the print deadline on everything—signs, banners and all the swag.”

“You need to tell me when there’s a critical deadline.”

“I did tell you.”

“In an email that I didn’t read.”

“Here’s a tip,” said Zachary. But then he went silent.

Amber found herself picturing Tuck’s glare. Tuck might be out of his depth, but he wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t a pushover.

A minute later, Tuck’s office door was thrown open and Zachary stormed past her desk, tossing a glare her way. “Tell your boss he can pay rush penalties on every damn item for all I care.”

Amber didn’t bother to respond. She’d never warmed up to Zachary. He was demanding and entitled, always running roughshod over his staff and anyone else below him in the corporate hierarchy. Dixon put up with him because he was favored by Jamison, and because he did seem to have a knack for knowing how to appeal to big clients with expensive shipping needs.

Tuck appeared in the office doorway.

“Lucas will be here at ten,” she told him. “But your schedule is clear for the next half hour.”

“Maybe I can read a few hundred emails.”

“Good idea.”

He drew a breath, looking like he wanted to bolt for the exit. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m behind by two thousand emails.”

“Dixon was very organized.”

Surely Tuck didn’t expect to rival his brother after only a single week. It had taken Dixon years to become such an effective vice president.

Tuck frowned at her. “So everyone tells me.”

“He worked very long and hard to get there.”

Yes, Tuck was arriving on time. And really, that was more than she’d expected. But Dixon had taken on far more than his fair share of early mornings and late nights working out systems and processes for covering the volume of work. Tuck seemed to expect to become a boy wonder overnight.

Tuck’s tone hardened. “I’m asking for some friendly advice. Can we not turn it into a lecture about my sainted brother?”

“You can’t expect to simply walk through the door and be perfect.”

“I’m not expecting anything of the sort. Believe me, I know that Dixon is remarkable. I’ve heard about it my entire life.”

Amber felt a twinge of guilt.

Tuck did seem to be trying. Not that he had any choice in the matter. And it didn’t change the fact that he’d barely bothered to show up at the office until he was backed into a corner. Still, he was here now. She’d give him that.

“Zachary should have given you a heads-up on the branding,” she said. “He should have pointed out the deadline.”

“I shouldn’t have missed it,” said Tuck.

“But you did. And you’re going to miss other things.” She saw no point in pretending.

“Your confidence in me is inspiring.”

She found herself annoyed on Tuck’s behalf, and the frustration came through in her voice.

“Tell him,” she said. “Tell them all. Tell them that it’s their job to keep you appraised of critical deadlines, and not just in an email. Make it a part of your regular meetings. And make the meetings more frequent if you have to, even daily. I mean, if you can stand to see Zachary every day, that is.”

Tuck cracked a smile.

It was a joke. But Amber shouldn’t have made it. “I know that was an inappropriate thing to say.”

He took a couple of steps toward her desk. “I don’t have a problem with inappropriate. It’s a good idea. I’ll send them an email.”

“You don’t have to send them an email.” Her sense of professionalism won out over her annoyance at his past laziness. “I’ll send them an email. And I can triage your in-basket if you’d like.”

His expression brightened and he moved closer still. “You’d read them for me?”

“Yes. I’ll get rid of the unimportant ones.”

“How will you do that?”

“I have a delete key.”

He leaned his hands down on the desk, lowering his voice. “You can do that? I mean, and not have the company fall down around my ears?”

Amber found herself fighting a grin. “With some of them, sure. With others, I’ll take care of them myself, or I’ll delegate the work to one of the unit heads. And I’ll flag the important ones for you.”

“I swear, I could kiss you for that.”

It was obviously a quip. But for some reason his words resonated all the way to her abdomen.

Her gaze went to his lips, triggering the image of a kiss in her imagination.

She caught the look in his eyes and the air seemed to crackle between them.

“Not necessary,” she quickly said into the silence.

“I suppose the paycheck is enough.”

“It’s enough.”

He straightened, and a twinkle came into his silver-gray eyes. “Still, the offer’s open.”

She considered his handsome, unapologetic face and his taut, sexy frame. “You’re not like him at all, are you?”

“Dixon?”

She nodded.

“Not a bit.”

“He doesn’t joke around.”

“He should.”

Her loyalty reasserted itself. “Are you criticizing Dixon’s performance on the job?”

“I’m criticizing his performance in life.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

She didn’t know how close Tuck was to his brother, but she had seen firsthand the toll Kassandra’s infidelity had taken on Dixon. Dixon had been devoted to his wife. He’d thought they were trying to start a family while she had secretly been taking birth control pills and sleeping with another man.

“I know he has,” said Tuck.

“He was blindsided by her lies.”

Tuck seemed to consider the statement. “There were signs.”

“Now you’re criticizing Dixon for loyalty?”

“I’m wondering why you’re so blindly defending him.”

“When you’re an honest person—” as Amber knew Dixon was “—you don’t look for deceit in others.”

Tuck’s gaze was astute. “But you saw it, too.”

Amber wasn’t going to lie. “That Kassandra had a scheming streak?”

“Aha.” There was a distinct ring of triumph in Tuck’s tone.

“I saw it, too,” she admitted.

He sobered. “I don’t know what that says about you and I.”

“Maybe that we should be careful around each other?”

“Are you out to get me, Amber?”

“No.” She wasn’t.

She didn’t find him particularly admirable. An admirable man would have shown up to help long before now. But now that he was here, she’d admit he wasn’t all bad.

“Are you going to lie to me?”

“No.”

“Will you help me succeed?”

She hesitated over that one. “Maybe. If you seem to deserve it.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“You’re no Dixon.”

“I’m never going to be Dixon.”

“But you seem to have Zachary’s number. I can respect that.”

It was a moment before Tuck responded. “How’d he get away with that crap with my dad?”

“He didn’t pull that crap with your dad.”

“He’s testing me.”

“We all are.”

“Including you?”

“Especially me.”

But Tuck was faring better than she’d expected. And she seemed worryingly susceptible to his playboy charm. She was definitely going to have to watch herself around him.

* * *

At home in the mansion, Tuck found himself retreating to the second floor, spreading work out in the compact sitting room down the hall from his own bedroom. Stylistically, it was different from the rest of the house, with earth tones, rattan and stoneware accents. He found it restful.

The big house had been built in the early 1900s, with hardwood floors, soaring relief ceilings, elaborate light fixtures and archways twenty feet in height. It was far from the most welcoming place in the world, full of uncomfortable antique chairs and somber paintings. And right now it echoed with emptiness.

Last week, they’d moved his father to a specialized care facility in Boston. His mother had gone with him to stay with her sister. His mother had asked her trusted staff members to come along for what looked to be an extended stay.

Tuck could have replaced the staff. But he was one man, and he had no plans to do any entertaining. Well, maybe a date or two, since he didn’t plan to let his responsibilities at Tucker Transportation keep him celibate. But the house still had two cooks, two housekeepers and a groundskeeper. He couldn’t imagine needing any more assistance than that.

For now, he headed down the grand staircase to meet his college friend, Jackson Rush, happy with both the opportunity for conversation and the break from office work. While Tuck had studied business at the University of Chicago, Jackson had studied criminology. Jackson now ran an investigations firm that had expanded around the country.

“I hope you have good news,” said Tuck as Jackson removed his worn leather jacket and handed it to the housekeeper.

“Dixon took a private jet from Executive Airport to New York City,” said Jackson.

“But not a Tucker Transportation jet.” Tuck had already checked all the company records.

“Signal Air,” said Jackson.

“Because he didn’t want my dad to know where he went.”

“That seems like a solid theory.”

The two men made their way into the sunroom. It was dark outside, not the perfect time to enjoy the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the sunroom was less ostentatious than the library.

“So he’s in New York.” As far as Tuck was concerned, that was good news. He’d worried his brother had taken off to Europe or Australia.

“From there, it looks like he took a train to Charlotte.”

“A train?” Tuck turned his head to frown at Jackson. “Why on earth would he take a train? And what’s in Charlotte?”

“Secrecy, I’m guessing.” Jackson eased onto a forest-green sofa. “He wouldn’t need ID to buy a train ticket. You said your dad tried to stop him from leaving?”

Tuck took a padded Adirondack chair next to a leafy potted ficus. “Dad was terrified at the thought of me actually working at Tucker Transportation.”

“Then, I guess things didn’t work out so well for him, did they?”

“Are you making a joke about his heart attack?”

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. From Charlotte, our best guess is Dixon went on to either Miami or New Orleans. Anything you know of for him in either of those cities?”

Tuck racked his brain.

“A woman?” asked Jackson.

“He’s barely divorced from Kassandra.”

Jackson shot Tuck a look of incredulity.

“She was the one who cheated, not him. I doubt his head was anywhere near to dating again.”

“Well, we’re checking both cities, but so far he’s not using his credit cards or hitting any bank machines. And there’s no activity on his cell phone.”

Tuck sat back. “Does this strike you as bafflingly elaborate?”

“Your brother does not want to be found. The question is, why?”

“He doesn’t know about my dad,” said Tuck. “He doesn’t know he’s abandoned Tucker Transportation to me alone. If he did, he’d be here in a heartbeat.”

“Anything else going on in his life? Any chance he’s got an enemy, committed a crime, embezzled from the company?”

Tuck laughed at that. “Embezzle from himself? He’s got access to all the money he could ever want and then some.”

“An enemy, then. Anybody who might want to harm him? Maybe the guy who slept with Kassandra?”

“Dixon’s not afraid of Irwin Borba.”

“What, then?” asked Jackson.

“He said he needed a vacation.”

Tuck wanted to believe that was the simple answer. Because if Dixon was at a beach bar somewhere drinking rum punch and watching women in bikinis, he’d be back home soon. It had already been two weeks. Maybe Tuck just had to hang on a few more days without sinking any ships—either figuratively or literally—and he’d be off the hook. He sure hoped so.

“There’s a major trade show coming up in New York,” he told Jackson. “And we’re launching two new container ships in Antwerp next week. Surely he’ll return for that.”

“He’s expecting your dad will be there.” Jackson restlessly tapped his blunt fingers against his denim-covered knee.

That was true. Dixon would assume Jamison would represent the company in Antwerp.

“Have you checked his computer?” asked Jackson. “Maybe he’s got a personal email account you don’t know about.”

“Maybe.” Tuck wasn’t crazy about the idea of snooping into Dixon’s business, but things were getting desperate.

“Check his office computer,” said Jackson. “And check his laptop, his tablet, anything he didn’t take with him. It looks to me as though he’s traveling light.”

Tuck had to agree with that. “What’s he up to, switching transportation in two different cities?”

“He’s up to not being found. And he’s doing a damn good job of it. Any chance he’s got a secret life?”

“A secret life?”

“Doing things that he can’t tell anyone about. He does travel a lot. And he runs in some pretty influential circles.”

“Are you asking if my brother is a spy?”

Jackson’s shrug said it was possible.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past week, it’s that Dixon couldn’t have had time for anything but Tucker Transportation. You wouldn’t believe the amount of work that crosses his desk.”

“Don’t forget you’re doing your dad’s job, as well,” Jackson pointed out.

“Even accounting for that. I’m starting to wonder...”

Tuck wasn’t crazy about saying it out loud. But he had to wonder why they hadn’t asked for his help before now. Was he truly that inept?

“You’re a smart guy, too.” Jackson seemed to have guessed the direction of Tuck’s thoughts.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I do. Your dad and Dixon, they probably got into a rhythm together early on. And you never seemed that interested in working at the company.”

“I tried.” Tuck couldn’t keep the defensiveness from his voice. “In the beginning, I tried. But I always seemed to be in the way. Dad definitely didn’t want me around. Dixon was his golden boy. After a while you get tired of always barging your way in.”

“So you’re in it now.”

“I am. And it’s scaring me half to death.”

Jackson grinned. “I’ve been in the thick of it with you before. I can’t picture you being afraid of anything.”

“This isn’t the same as a physical threat.”

“I’m not just talking about a barroom brawl. Remember, I’m running a company of my own.”

“That’s right.” Tuck perked up at the thought of getting some free advice. “You are. How big is it now?”

“Four offices, here in Chicago, New York, Boston and Philly.”

“How many employees?”

“About two hundred.”

“So you could give me a few tips?”

“Tucker Transportation is on a whole different scale than I am. You’re better off talking to your friend Shane Colborn.”

“I’m better off finding Dixon.”

“I’ll fly to Charlotte in the morning.”

“You need a jet?”

Jackson cracked a grin. “I’m not going to say no to that offer. Sure, hook me up with a jet. In the meantime, check out his computer.”

“I’ll get Amber to help.”

“Amber?”

“Dixon’s trusty assistant.”

An image of Amber’s pretty face came up in his mind. He wasn’t normally a fan of tailored clothes and no-nonsense hairstyles. But she seemed to look good in anything.

And then there were those shoes. She wore a different pair every day, each one sexier than the last. Something was definitely going on beneath the surface there. And the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to figure out what really made her tick.

* * *

When Tuck strode into the office Monday morning, Amber’s hormones jumped to attention. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans, a green cotton shirt and a navy blazer. His dark brown hair had a rakish swoop across the top, and his face had a sexy, cavalier day’s growth of beard.

He definitely wasn’t Dixon. Dixon’s confidence was never cocky. And Dixon had never made her heart pump faster and heat rise up her neck.

“I need your help,” he stated without preamble.

Amber immediately came to her feet. “Is something wrong?”

“Come with me.” His walk was decisive and his voice definitive.

She experienced a new and completely inappropriate shiver of reaction.

This was a place of business, she told herself. He wasn’t thinking about her as a woman. He sure wasn’t thinking the same things she was thinking—that his commanding voice meant he might haul her into his office, pin her up against a wall and kiss her senseless.

What was wrong with her?

Tuck headed into Dixon’s office and she forcibly shook off her silly fantasy.

“Do you know his password?” Tuck asked, crossing the big room and rounding the mahogany desk.

“His password to what?” she asked.

“To log on to the system.” Tuck leaned down and moved the mouse to bring the screen to life.

She didn’t answer. Dixon had given her his password a couple of months back on a day when he was in Europe and needed her to send him some files. She still remembered it, but she knew he’d never intended for her to use it again. What she technically knew, and what she ought to use, were two different things.

Tuck glanced up sharply. “Tell me the password, Amber.”

“I...”

“If you don’t, I’ll only have the systems group reset it.”

He made a valid point. As the acting head of Tucker Transportation, he could do whatever he wanted with the company computer system.

“Fine. It’s ClownSchool, capital C and S, dollar sign, one, eight, zero.”

Tuck typed. “You might want to think about whose side you’re on here.”

“I’m not taking sides.” Though she was committed to keeping her promise to Dixon. “I’m trying to be professional.”

“And I’m trying to save Tucker Transportation.”

“Save it from what?” Had something happened?

“From ruin without my father or Dixon here to run it.”

“What are you looking for?” she asked, realizing that he was exaggerating for effect and deciding to move past the hyperbole.

Tucker Transportation was a solid company with a team of long-term, capable executives running the departments. Even from the top, there was a limited amount of damage anyone could do in a month.

“Clues to where he went,” said Tuck.

Then Tuck seemed to have an inspiration. He lifted the desk phone and dialed.

A moment later, a ring chimed inside Dixon’s top drawer.

Tuck drew it open and removed Dixon’s cell phone, holding it while it rang.

“How does it still have battery power?” he asked, more to himself than anything.

“I’ve been charging it,” said Amber.

His attention switched to her, his face crinkling in obvious annoyance. “You didn’t think to tell me his cell phone was in his desk drawer?”

Amber wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“And how did you know it was there anyway? Were you snooping through his drawers?”

“No.” She quickly shook her head. She was intensely respectful of Dixon’s privacy. “He told me he was leaving it behind.”

Tuck’s piercing gray eyes narrowed, his brows slanting together in a way that wrinkled his forehead. “So he told you he was leaving? Before he left, you knew he was going?”

Amber realized she’d spoken too fast. But now she had no choice but to give a reluctant nod.

Tuck straightened and came to the end of the desk, his voice gravelly and ominous. “Before you answer this, remember I’m the acting president of this company. This is a direct order, and I don’t look kindly on insubordination. Did he tell you where he was going?”

Dixon had given her an emergency number. And she’d recognized the area code. But he hadn’t flat-out told her where he was going.

“No,” she said, promising herself it wasn’t technically a lie. “He needs the time, Tuck. He’s been overworked for months, and Kassandra’s betrayal hit him hard.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

She knew that was true. But it wasn’t for Tuck to decide, either.

“He doesn’t even know about our father,” said Tuck.