Playing Mr. Right. Kat Cantrell
to clasp her hand for a very long beat that neither of them mistook for a simple handshake. There was too much electricity, too much unsaid for that.
The less she let him focus on that, the better.
Partners.
That was a concept Xavier liked a whole lot, given his distinct impression that Laurel Dixon was hiding something. He liked it even better that she’d been the one to suggest working together. The closer he kept her, the easier it would be to keep an eye on her.
He trusted her about as much as he’d trust a convicted car thief with the keys to his Aston Martin.
But he also understood that his lack of trust wasn’t specific to Laurel. If he really wanted to get honest about it, his inability to stop being both suspicious and cautious had probably been at least half of Marjorie’s problem with him. That’s why he’d thought a hands-off approach with the new services manager might work best. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t shake that weird, misty feeling that sprang up inside whenever he was in the same room with Laurel Dixon. He’d hoped to avoid examining that by staying away from her.
Ms. Dixon had blown that plan to smithereens.
Jury was still out on how much wreckage he’d have to step over. Especially given the instant and volatile chemistry between them, which he’d been wholly prepared to pretend didn’t exist until she’d so eloquently refused to let him. So that was a thing. The next three months should be incredibly taxing and exceedingly painful, then.
“Partners. What happens next?” Xavier asked Laurel once he’d dropped her hand, though the severed contact didn’t eliminate the buzzing awareness arcing between them at all.
Not that he’d expected it to. Regardless of what he called the vibe between them, it wasn’t going away. The trick was managing it. Which meant it would be a bad idea to touch her again, and of course, that was all he could think about.
“Follow me.”
She slid from the seat she’d perched in when she first came into his office and glanced over her shoulder, perhaps to ensure he was doing as she commanded. As if he’d miss a second of whatever she had up her sleeve. Not likely.
Xavier trailed her to the receptionist’s desk. Adelaide’s eyes widened behind her bifocals as they approached and taut lines appeared around the woman’s mouth. He nearly growled at her just to see if she’d actually come out of her skin. What good was it to have people afraid of him if he couldn’t have fun with it occasionally?
Before he could try it, Laurel flipped a lock of her long sable-colored hair behind her back. “Today is your lucky day, Addy. You’re in charge from now on. Mr. LeBlanc has given you a promotion.”
“I did not. Oof.” Laurel’s elbow glanced off his ribs, leaving a sharp, smarting circle of shut up below his heart. “I mean...yeah. What Laurel said.”
Adelaide’s wide-eyed gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them as if she couldn’t quite get her bearings. He knew the feeling.
“That’s very generous, Mr. LeBlanc,” she squeaked. “But I don’t understand. A promotion?”
“Exactly.” Laurel beamed so brightly, Xavier could see the rays from his position behind her. “To Services Manager. You’re going to take Marjorie’s place.”
Wait, what? That was going a little far. If Adelaide had been remotely qualified or interested in the position, she would have applied for it the second the job posting had gone up. What, exactly, was Laurel up to?
“Are you sure about this?” he muttered in Laurel’s ear and caught her elbow a hairbreadth from his ribs, holding it tight just in case she was stronger than she looked.
Clearly she had a plan and intended for Xavier to follow it. The elbow to the ribs indicated that if he wanted to have a conversation about her tactics, she’d indulge him later.
“You know everything about this place, Adelaide. Tell Mr. LeBlanc,” Laurel instructed with a nauseating amount of cheer. “You gave me such a thorough tour of the place that I thought it would never end. There’s not a nook or cranny at LBC that you don’t have some sort of insight into. Is there?”
Obediently, Adelaide shook her head. “No, ma’am. I’ve been here seven years and started in the kitchen as a volunteer. I love every last board and nail in this place.”
“I could tell.” Laurel jerked her head at Xavier. “Mr. LeBlanc was just bemoaning the fact that he didn’t have anyone to help organize a fundraiser that LBC so desperately needs.”
Oh, dear God. That was not what he’d said. At all. But before he could correct the grievous misrepresentation that gave everyone the impression he was being a big baby about the tasks laid out for him, Laurel rushed on.
“I figured, this is Addy’s opportunity to really make a difference. Step up and show us all what she’s made of. You just do what Marjorie did and that’ll leave me free to help Mr. LeBlanc get some money flowing in. Are you good with that?”
When Adelaide smiled and clapped her hands like she’d just been given the biggest Christmas present, Xavier’s mouth fell open. Hastily, he closed it before anyone figured out that Laurel Dixon had just shocked the hell out of him. He didn’t shock easily, and it was even harder to remember the last time he’d been unable to control his expression.
The two women went back and forth on the logistics for a furious couple of minutes until Xavier couldn’t take it any longer.
“So, that’s it?” he interrupted. “Adelaide, you can do what Marjorie did and everyone’s good with that?”
Both women swiveled to stare at him. Laurel raised a brow. “Sorry, did we lose you again? Yes. Adelaide is in charge. She’ll do a fantastic job.”
Xavier should have asked more questions back in his office, like whether partner meant something different where Laurel had come from. When she’d thrown out the idea that they’d be working closely together, he’d reassessed his idea of how their interaction might go. And he’d come to the conclusion that perhaps she could come to him for approval on the budget, or maybe to get his help vetting new volunteers. That sort of thing.
He had not once suggested that she sign herself up to take over his inheritance test. That was his. He needed to prove to his father—and himself—that he could and would handle anything the old man threw at him. Ten million dollars was a cheap price to pay in order to get back on even ground, regain his confidence and lose the edge of vulnerability he’d been carrying since the reading of the will.
No one was allowed to get in the way of that.
“Excuse us, please,” he said to Adelaide through gritted teeth.
Pulling Laurel back into his office, he shut the door and leaned on it, half afraid she’d find a way to open it again despite the hundred and seventy-five pounds of man holding it shut.
Instantly, he realized his mistake.
Laurel’s presence filled the room, blanketing him with that otherworldly, mystical nonsense that he couldn’t think through.
“What the hell was all that about?” he demanded and couldn’t find a shred of remorse at how rough it came out. “You shuffled off all your duties to Adelaide—without asking, by the way. What, exactly, are you going to be doing?”
“Helping you, of course.” She patted his arm and the contact sang through his flesh clear to the bone. “We have a fundraiser to organize. Which I’m pretty sure is what I just said.”
The trap had been laid so neatly that he still hadn’t quite registered whether the teeth had closed around his ankle or not. “You don’t have enough experience fundraising.”