Emmy And The Boss. Penny McCusker

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СКАЧАТЬ to romance. He was so anxious to see her that he was actually on time the next morning, waiting in the parking lot for her. Emmy was late.

      “There you are,” he said when she finally pulled up and was climbing out of her car. “I guess I can call off the St. Bernards.”

      “Are those the dogs that carry little kegs around their necks? Because I could use a drink about now.”

      And he could use a cold shower. She reached into the front seat to gather her purse and briefcase, her skirt hiked up high enough to show about a mile of leg, and Nick could practically feel brain cells dying from lack of oxygen. Fortunately he didn’t care because most of his attention was focused way south of his brain.

      “Considering how my day started, it’s probably best if I don’t remember any of it,” she mumbled from the car’s interior.

      She straightened, but Nick’s brain was slow to keep up. “There are other ways to forget.”

      “I’ve tried ice cream already.”

      “For breakfast?”

      “Trust me, this was the kind of unforeseen event that called for drastic measures. But Roger is too much for even triple chocolate fudge to banish.”

      Nick tore his eyes off her legs and checked back in to the conversation. “Roger, as in the guy who dumped you? What did he want?”

      She walked around him and headed for the building. “He wanted to get his things.”

      “And you couldn’t tear yourself away?”

      “I had to stick around and guard my furniture. It turns out Roger has a pretty inventive memory when it comes to what he brought with him when he moved in.”

      “I could talk to him for you.” Or punch him.

      She took in the expression on his face and the curl to his fingers. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you and Roger to interact.”

      “Funny, I’m having the same thought where you’re concerned.”

      Emmy rolled her eyes. Nick would have been insulted if she didn’t look so adorable doing it.

      “Here’s the report I wrote up last night,” she said, “some preliminary observations about the way your business runs, and some areas we can study for possible efficiency improvements.”

      Nick took the neat manila folder she handed him and completely ignored it. There was some serious heat jumping around inside him, and he had two choices, punch Roger or kiss Emmy. He took one look and decided punching Roger wasn’t going to cool him off. Kissing Emmy wasn’t going to cool him off, either, but at least he wouldn’t hurt his hand.

      For the moment, though, she was only interested in work so he had to humor her. And control himself.

      She didn’t make it easy.

      When they got to Nick’s office, Emmy took the file folder from him and set it on the desk. “Point one. Starting and quitting times have to be enforced,” she read, still standing so Nick had no choice but to follow along over her shoulder. He stood as close as he thought he could get away with, but not so close that his brain checked out. “Do you think that’s realistic?”

      She brushed the back of her neck where his breath had washed over her skin, then she moved away. Nick let her because he’d seen the list. It was long. Plenty of time and opportunity to be close to her.

      “Every other company in the world seems to find it perfectly acceptable to ask their employees to come in at a specific time,” she said.

      “I’ve known most of these people since I was a kid. They’re more like aunts and uncles and cousins than employees.”

      “Okay, but if you go out of business all your relatives will wind up in the unemployment line.”

      “You’ve got a point.” And since her suggestion was basically harmless, it wouldn’t hurt to play along. “I guess I could talk to them about getting to work on time. But people have problems. School buses are late, babysitters are sick, exfiancés come back to steal furniture.”

      For a second Nick thought she was going to smile. She pressed her lips together and tapped the paper instead. That was an invitation if ever he’d seen one, so he moved in behind her again.

      “Point two,” he read. “Cross-training.” Cross-training was a pretty self-explanatory concept, but Nick let her talk so he could watch her.

      “You should make sure your employees are trained on each other’s jobs,” she said. “That way if someone is late or sick, another employee can fill in, and you can rotate the employees to keep the line running. You won’t get full production, but you won’t be dead in the water either.”

      She kept talking. Nick nodded and made understanding noises so it seemed like he was following along, but he’d given up listening for watching. Efficiency was a necessary evil for him, but he loved the way Emmy’s eyes lit up when she got into the subject. And she was really getting into it, moving around, gesturing, pushing her hair off her face. He loved it when she did that. And he loved the trim little suit she was wearing. He loved it that she was tall and passionate. All her passion was channeled into her work, but he could expand on that.

      “Point seven,” she said, “find a way to get Nick to concentrate on business while he still owns one.”

      “Uh-huh,” he said, nodding and smiling. She came over to stand in front of him and he just naturally stood a bit straighter. Okay, so he liked her tallness, as long as he was taller. He was old-fashioned about that sort of thing.

      “You’re not listening to me,” she said.

      “Yes, I am.”

      “Tell me what I just said.”

      Nick racked his brain for all of two seconds and then he grinned. “You said you’d love to go out to dinner with me tonight.”

      “I don’t have time for dinner.”

      “You’re an efficiency expert. Don’t you sit down promptly at 8:00 p.m. and eat all the food groups balanced in accordance with the current FDA nutritional pyramid?”

      “And I schedule exactly 23.6 minutes every evening so I can chew each bite forty times. Unfortunately that means I don’t have time for restaurants and meaningful conversation.”

      Translation, she didn’t have time for Nick.

      She tucked her list of observations back into the manila folder and handed it to him. “If it’s any consolation, I will go out with you now, to your factory floor.”

      He shrugged. “It’s a start.”

      The factory was a cavernous, well-lit space, big roll-up doors open to the let in the warm spring cross-breeze. Yesterday it had been decorated in industrial chic—safety posters, calendars, gray lockers, fake-wood-grain tables and metal chairs in the lunch room. Today it was decorated in Emmy Jones. Pictures of her hung everywhere, on the walls, from the rafters, on the fridge in the break room, on the sides of the conveyors. A couple of Nick’s СКАЧАТЬ