The Playboy's Protegee. Michele Dunaway
Megan could see for Harry is that he could be one step closer to finding reasons to have her fired. As for her, the benefit to her career could be summed up in four words: nada, nothing, zero, zilch.
Joe reached for Megan’s personal copy of the Montana report that she’d placed earlier in the middle of her table. “You know, I thought of sending Harry to Montana once,” Joe said. “Then I wondered what he’d do with all that fresh air. He’s such a city boy. Never wants to stray far from home. But he loves this company, I’ll say that for him. Don’t worry, Megan. He’ll just need a little convincing to be your mentor, that’s all. In fact, why don’t you pay him a little visit today? He never leaves until five, and perhaps if you go personally and tell him how excited you are about having him mentor you, he’ll understand how important I think this is.”
Megan managed a faint smile. She’d go visit Harry all right, but only to convince him to back down so that someone else would have to be her mentor. Now there was a plan. “I could do that.”
“Good.” Joe stood, his business suit hardly wrinkled. She wondered how he managed to do that. Within an hour of arriving at the office, her conservative blue suit had crumpled from simply sitting in her chair and doing her work.
Joe Jacobsen gave her a big encouraging smile. “You’ll find the complete Jacobsen Stars program in a package that will be delivered to you tomorrow morning. I’m glad to have you on board. Have a good afternoon, Megan.”
Megan watched him go. Then a thought hit her. She poked her head out the cubicle and started after his retreating figure. “Mr. Jacobsen!”
He stopped and turned. She caught up to him. “What if Harry refuses and you can’t find someone else? Am I out of the program?”
Joe gave her a reassuring look. “Oh no. I’ll find you someone. But don’t worry. I just know Harry will agree.” He turned and walked away.
As Megan stared at Joe Jacobsen’s retreating back, determination stole over her. She didn’t want Harry Sanders as her mentor probably any more than he wanted her as his protégée. So all she had to do was convince him that it was in his best interest to say no. She went back to her cubicle to begin rehearsing her speech.
GRANDPA JOE WHISTLED as he stepped into the executive elevator. He pushed the button for the twenty-fifth floor. Whereas most corporate headquarters went skyward, Jacobsen Enterprises had sacrificed height for width. Although this was the main building, the complex sprawled several city blocks. It was one of the most valuable pieces of real estate in the city.
Not that he’d want a tall building anyway. He hated elevator rides. The trip to the top of the Sears Tower in Chicago, even though under two minutes, had about done him in. And to think he was a combat veteran.
He stepped out on his floor, and headed toward Andrew’s office. Then thinking twice, he bypassed it. He loved his son-in-law as much as his own son, Blake, but unlike Blake, Andrew thought Grandpa Joe was a constant meddler. Perhaps he was, Grandpa Joe conceded, but after all he was so good at it. Andrew’s marriage to Lilly was a perfect example, as was Darci and Cameron’s.
Megan and Harry were next. He’d watched each for almost the past year. They were perfect for each other. They’d just have to figure it out and needed a nudge in the right direction. He’d given them that nudge, although honestly he knew they’d need more than just one. He glanced at his Rolex, a gift from his wife on their fortieth anniversary. Right now Megan should be on her way to Harry’s office.
How Grandpa Joe wished he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation. He didn’t expect it to go well, but that was okay. He had quite a few aces left to play.
HARRY KNEW MEGAN MacGregor had arrived before she even knocked on his office door. He’d been expecting her since that morning, and it hadn’t made his lunch sit well. He hated to wait, especially for one as sneaky and conniving as Megan.
The subtle floral fragrance of her perfume reached him as she approached. His nose wrinkled as his brain registered the pleasant scent. Harry steeled himself. It was imperative that he remain in control of the situation. Thus, he deliberately chose not to look away from the e-mail he was reading on the computer screen. “A bit tardy, aren’t you? Come to bring me the Montana report? It is complete, isn’t it?”
Her tone hid her defensiveness well, but he still heard the echo of it. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is. Early, I might add. I put your copy into interoffice mail. I’m sure you’ll receive it tomorrow.”
Harry knew she stood right on the other side of his desk. “And let’s cut to the chase. As for tardy, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
Harry turned around from his computer and took a moment to study her. Deliberately he ran his gaze up and down her figure, taking in the rumpled blue suit, the plain white cotton shirt that revealed nothing, not even the swell of her breasts.
He’d guess she wore sensible pumps, but he couldn’t tell because his desk blocked his view of her feet. Even her brown hair was conservative, a short cut that framed her face. He returned his gaze to connect with hers. Despite a slight telltale flush that indicated that she hadn’t liked his perusal, her haughty expression hadn’t changed.
But she was flushed. Good. He liked that he had an effect on her. Whereas she might be able to fool everyone else, he was one man that could see right through her pretenses. While she might be pretty in an Ivory-soap sort of way, she definitely was not nice or pure.
“No, you’re right,” he said as he began his verbal offensive. “As for being tardy, you may not know what I’m talking about. Let me see if I can fill you in. Joe Jacobsen. Jacobsen Stars. Me not mentoring you even if my life depended on it.” He watched her expression turn angry. “I expected you early this morning.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Your grandfather just came to see me a half hour ago to tell me about the program.”
“Ah, that explains it. I’m surprised he didn’t hit you first thing in the morning. I guess he’s slipping. But let me see if I’ve got the rest correct. You’re here because he told you I’m not planning on being your mentor. Don’t even bother trying to convince me otherwise.”
Megan gave a mock laugh. “Since we’ve already cut to the chase, let me continue to follow suit. As if I want you to be my mentor. Do I have a tattoo marked Desperate on my head? If so, tell me, I need to have it removed.”
Harry clapped his hands together and laughed. Quick on the comeback. He liked that. But of course, so was he. His lips pursed together before he spoke. “Score one for Megan. Tell you what though—” Harry gestured with the back of his hand toward the open door “—why don’t you close that before you embarrass yourself. You’d hate for everyone to hear what you’re really like.”
“What I’m really like?” Megan walked to the door. Harry caught a brief vision of Peggy’s surprised face as Megan shut the door with a decisive click. “Now that we’re alone, Harry Sanders, why don’t you explain to me just what you are talking about?”
“I’m sure you know exactly what you are really like, which means that I have nothing to explain to you,” Harry said. He’d been rehearsing this all day, and it was actually going quite well. “Let me just say that your entry into the Jacobsen Stars program is not one of my grandfather’s better ideas.”
“You just wish you could fire me like you threatened to do.”
Now there was a good idea. Too bad she was Grandpa Joe’s pet. Harry shrugged as if the issue was of little concern. “Someday I will.”
Megan gave a haughty laugh. “Maybe if you ever get promoted you might get a chance. Of course, if the day ever comes that you get promoted, I’m sure I’ll want to find another job before you run the company into the ground.”
“Oh, you’ve taken the gloves off, haven’t you, Megan? I wondered if you would. So since you’re here, let’s get down to why you came in the first place. You want me to refuse to