Balancing Act. Laura Browning

about time. What secretarial school are you from…the Slowpoke Rodriguez School?”

      “I didn’t attend secretarial school, sir. I graduated from Smith,” Tessa replied. That seemed to give him pause for a moment, and she managed not to laugh out loud. Oh, yes, his snobby background was showing now. She’d bet he had a girlfriend named Muffy or Priss filed neatly somewhere in his life. A small chuckle escaped.

      For the first time that morning, her new boss slowed down to really look at her.

      “I amuse you?”

      “Not at all, sir.”

      His glittering, golden gaze lifted and bore into her this time instead of skating over her. Tessa could now understand how he made other secretaries uncomfortable, but she was not other secretaries and she would not be intimidated. If this was an undeclared war, she was more than willing to plant her flag and stand her ground.

      He looked her up and down. “What was your major?”

      “Social Work.”

      “Ah, a do-gooder,” he dismissed her. “Why are you here? Has personnel decided I need counseling? Someone who can ask open-ended questions and get me to reveal how society has damaged me? Are you here to save me from myself, Tessa? Help me reveal my inner child?”

      She kept her temper under control. “I think you credit them with way too much interest in the position as your secretary. You have a job. I need one. As to your inner child, I believe that answer should be obvious to you. It seems to me you need no assistance with that…sir.”

      One thick brow slowly arched. “Can you type?”

      “Seventy-five words a minute.”

      “Dictation?”

      “Transcription…while you talk.”

      “How are you with computers?”

      Tessa shrugged. “I do well enough.”

      No way would she tell him about hacking into her high school’s computer system when she was fourteen and changing the principal’s appointment book so he showed up to a non-existent meeting with the superintendent. Some things were better left in the past.

      The rest of the day passed like volleys in a naval battle. Barrett never asked her to do things, he barked orders at her, as if firing missiles over her bow.

      Early in the afternoon, the intercom bleated, “I need you in here for some transcription.”

      She took her laptop and set it up at the conference table, watching as he paced. She was already half-convinced he was just another rich prick riding on his family’s fortune. If she didn’t need the steadiness and income this job offered, she’d walk like everyone else.

      Then he began to speak. Her fingers flew as he talked through the plan he had apparently wrestled with all day long. As he outlined his strategy to acquire several struggling Midwest publications, Tessa acknowledged what he had developed was brilliant. Even more important, the acquisitions he designed wouldn’t cost jobs. She felt a new level of respect for the man, but didn’t dare let that show in her face. He still had an arrogant and overbearing attitude toward his personnel that would never be tolerated in any company where he wasn’t family.

      At three, he abruptly stopped and stared hard at her.

      “Go home,” he growled as he tossed a Mountain Dew can in the basket next to his desk. When she arched one brow at him, he added, “Be back tomorrow morning at seven.”

      He had dismissed her, but not fired her. From what she heard, that meant she was a success. Tessa packed the laptop and headed for the door.

      “Thanks, Teresa.”

      “Tessa,” she corrected.

      “Tessa.”

      As she left the building, she gave the surprised security guard a thumbs-up.

      * * * *

      By Friday, she began to think Barrett was an automaton programmed only to work and bent on driving her crazy. She could see why he had a reputation for chewing secretaries to bits and spitting them back out. His mind worked at light speed, so keeping up with him was a challenge, but Tessa had managed.

      She never saw him smile. She wondered if he had no personality or if he just hated what he was doing. Neither option boded well for either long-term employment or pleasant working conditions. He was bound to lose his temper with her at some point.

      A package arrived after lunch on Friday. Or rather, Tessa found it sitting on her desk right after lunch with Seth Barrett’s name scrawled on it.

      “I have a package for you, sir,” she said over the intercom.

      “How many times have I told you not to use that damn intercom? Bring it in.”

      Tessa grinned. He told her not to use it almost the same number of times he told her to stop barging in on him and use the intercom instead. She took the package and handed it to him. As she turned to go, he spoke.

      “Take the rest of the day off. We’re done.”

      Tessa stopped and stared. She supposed the amazement must have shown in her expression.

      “Go!” he barked.

      Tessa grinned as she tidied up her desk, locking drawers and file cabinets. She was always meticulous about her work area, probably a good thing with Mr. Psycho Clean on the other side of the door. A muffled sound from Barrett’s office followed by a crash stopped her just as she was about to depart for the day. She hesitated for only a second before she pushed the door open and stepped back into his inner sanctum.

      He sat unmoving in the chair behind his desk, staring out the window. His face was pale, and his jaw clenched and unclenched as if he were working hard to get his emotions under control. An expensive sculpture that had perched on his desk now lay on the floor in pieces.

      “Mr. Barrett?” Tessa murmured. He must be furious at having smashed the artwork. He turned eyes on her that burned with such intense golden fire, she took a half step back, but she would not retreat. “Can I help you with anything else, sir?”

      For a moment, she thought he might throw something at her, but she refused to be intimidated. He raked a hand through his thick, blond hair and blinked a couple times as if he were trying to fight his way through whatever disturbed him and focus on what she’d said.

      “Check my calendar for this weekend.”

      She didn’t need to check, she’d memorized it. “You have a Sigma Delta Chi dinner at which you are the keynote speaker this evening. The rest of the weekend is clear.”

      “Damn!” He stood up and paced his office, once again reminding her of a wild animal trapped in a cage not of his own choosing. He paused at the corner and looked back at her.

      “Where’s the jet?”

      “Brandon Barrett has it, sir, in Puerto Rico.”

      “Then get me the first commercial flight you can after that damn dinner to Durham, North Carolina. First-class. There’s never enough leg-room anywhere else.”

      Tessa had already logged off her computer. She gestured toward Seth’s.

      “May I?”

      “Yes.” He waved her toward the oversized leather chair. She felt almost like a child sitting in it, her legs very nearly dangling without touching the floor.

      It took a few minutes, and Barrett’s gaze seemed to bore into her the entire time. The man was an expert at looming. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out most of his attitude was not directed at her. The biting temper was who he was allowed to be. The arrogance, she was sure, was inbred at this point.

      The controlled anger that bubbled up now and then was another matter, but not her problem. If Seth Barlow-Barrett was unhappy