Alone with You. Debbi Rawlins
Stanford provided.”
Her temper flared. She’d known this wouldn’t be easy but she’d hoped he wouldn’t be petty. “Really, Dad? You don’t know where I’ve been working or what I’ve been doing for the past three years?” Her annoyance was met with silence. “Either way, does it matter?”
He studied her for a moment, then hit his intercom button. “Norma, would you please send in coffee?”
Lexy dug into her briefcase as she took a couple of calming breaths. “Here,” she said, leaning forward to slide the papers across his desk. “My résumé and transcripts.”
She saw the ghost of a smile again and knew he was impressed that she’d stayed a step ahead of him.
At least now, for the most part, she could read him. As a child she’d been incapable of deciphering the peculiar mix of respect and frustration he seemed to feel for her. He admired her independence and strong will right up until she defied something he held sacrosanct.
From as far back as she could remember, relatives, employees—everyone—had commented on how much she was like her father. They were both smart, goal-oriented and driven.
But that’s where the similarities ended. Her father was dogmatic in the single-mindedness that propelled him through life. While she cared about the company, a lot more than her father or anyone else realized, there was more to her than the Worthington name. Yes, she’d do almost anything to protect their image, but she had her own line in the sand.
“I see you’ve had only one long-term job since graduate school,” he said, scanning the first page. “Why is that?”
“I wondered that myself after I’d interviewed nonstop for several months. I finally figured out it had to do with my last name.”
He looked up. “I hope you aren’t implying I interfered.”
“Not at all.” She smiled. “You didn’t have to.”
He held her gaze for a long disconcerting moment. If he cut the meeting short it would be her fault. Dammit, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t bait him. She needed this job more than she needed to be right.
After a brief knock, the door opened. Norma rolled in a coffee service, which she pushed toward the sofas and conference table.
“Not there,” Harrison said. “Here will be fine. We shouldn’t be much longer.”
Norma blinked, then looked to Marshall for confirmation.
Lexy had no idea if he’d responded nonverbally. Her gaze had gone from Norma to her brother. When their eyes met, the contempt that swept his features startled her. Why was he running hot and cold? She hadn’t done anything to him. Harrison had always been the yes-sir, no-sir type, waiting to express his scorn behind their father’s back. He’d applauded her defiance. Called her his hero.
“You still take your coffee black, honey?” Norma laid a hand on her shoulder.
Lexy looked up and smiled. “I wouldn’t turn down a squirt of agave if you have it.”
“Just so happens we do.”
Harrison gave Norma a stern look, which she ignored by pouring from the sterling-silver coffeepot that had been in the family for years.
“Since when do we have agave?” he asked, emphasizing the word as if it were a curse.
“Since I bought it, dear,” Norma said sweetly.
Lexy stifled a laugh. Harrison was clearly trying to make some sort of point, probably that Norma had gone out of her way for Lexy. But he was no match for the stalwart Norma, and he should’ve learned that lesson by now.
She passed out the filled china cups, and only then did Lexy dare to look up. And saw that her father also was holding back a smile. Their gazes met, briefly, and warmth filled Lexy’s chest. For one crazy moment she was Daddy’s little girl again, the two of them sharing a private joke.
“So...you were telling us why you haven’t been able to hold down a job,” Harrison said.
Lexy shot him an I’ll-be-damned-if-I’ll-answer-to-you look, which promptly shut him up. It had never mattered that he was older. She’d been stronger, more outspoken, and he’d rarely challenged her. Maybe that was the reason he felt threatened by her return. “Thank you, Norma,” she said, taking her first sip. “This is perfect.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.” She addressed Lexy, ignoring the two men, then pushed the cart to the side and left the office.
Her father’s attention returned to the résumé, his eyes giving nothing away when he finally glanced up. “An account exec? You must’ve been bored.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Her own fault. That’s what he was thinking, and he wasn’t wrong.
“So what brings you back now?” He leaned back in his black leather chair and regarded her over steepled fingers.
“I’ve always wanted to work for the company. But you already know that.”
He smiled a little. “I thought perhaps you’d decided otherwise. After all, your call came out of the blue.”
“I was let go from Mattheson and Myers.” She leaned forward to set down her coffee. Knowing better than to risk marking the mahogany, she thought it fitting to leave the cup and saucer on her Stanford transcripts. It still rankled that he’d asked for them. “The company signed a new client who they believed would consider my employment a conflict of interest.”
“Ah. A former customer of ours, I presume?”
“I don’t know. They kept the name confidential.”
Harrison snorted. “So we’re the consolation prize?”
Lexy swiveled around to look him directly in the eye. “Is that what you think?”
“Don’t turn this back on me.” His face reddened. “I worked here every summer during college and grad school, then started full-time the day after I got my Harvard degree. And I’ve busted my ass for this company every day since.”
She knew he’d throw in Harvard. “You can work hard or you can work smart. I didn’t make that choice for you.” They’d engaged in a mild rivalry at prep school. She’d had the better grades, while he’d always studied much harder. She pressed her lips together before taking a deep breath. “Look, Harrison, I know you’ve earned your place here. I’m simply looking for the chance to earn mine.”
He blinked, then looked away.
Lexy knew her father was watching them. He’d encouraged their competitiveness as children. She hoped he didn’t still consider it a good idea. Ignoring him, she addressed her brother. “You mentioned branching out in other areas. Tell me about it.”
Harrison sipped his coffee, his brow furrowed, clearly torn over whether to trust her or not. The realization made her sad.
Finally, he cleared his throat, made eye contact again. “Sports. Equipment, outdoor gear, that sort of thing, but also team ownership. The consumer’s consciousness has been raised to return to American products. I’m sure you’re aware that we took several hits from the media over sending jobs abroad.” He shrugged as if his solution was a no-brainer. “What’s more American than baseball or football?”
She wasn’t sure what to say. This was quite a departure from their grassroots business of brand foods and paper products, and eventually, real estate. Not just that, but she didn’t understand how owning a sports team made the company more patriotic.
“Alexis, you look surprised.”
She turned to her father while she searched for the right words. The last thing she wanted to do was second-guess Harrison. “Frankly, I am. But it’s an interesting concept. I’d like to hear more.”
Her