Be Mine. Victoria Dahl

like a bug. If I start taking off my clothes, no one will pay attention.”

      “Want to bet?” Jane looked at her boss. “If I had your body, I’d take off my clothes all the time.”

      “You do take off your clothes all the time,” Emily pointed out. “Has Ben ever seen you clothed?”

      “Certainly,” Jane said. “I was dressed for my wedding. You were there. You slapped the best man at the reception.”

      “You never forget, do you?”

      Jane got up and headed for the door. “I’ll get Parker. Don’t slap him. I’ll make friends with Karen, but we’ll get further if you seduce the guy.”

      “Feel free to sacrifice my body for your ambitions,” Emily said as Jane went through the door.

      “Our ambitions,” Jane said. “And I’ve seen him. It would be no sacrifice.”

      * * *

      “MR. PARKER ON LINE TWO,” Jane said in her secretary voice.

      Emily picked up the phone. “Mr. Parker?”

      “Yes?”

      “This is Emily Tate. I understand we have a meeting at eleven.”

      “Yes, Ms. Tate, we do.” He sounded bored but patient. She’d been expecting the high tight tones of a monomaniac; his voice was deep with a little bit of New York rhythm in it.

      “Is there anything you’d like me to bring to the meeting?”

      “No, Ms. Tate, I have everything I need. Is there anything else?”

      Sorry, Emily thought. Taking up your time, am I? “No, Mr. Parker, there’s nothing else.”

      “Eleven, then,” he said, and hung up.

      Not good, Emily thought. Efficient and not impressed with her in spite of her terrific track record. Which must mean he was still hung up on the budget overruns.

      Jane poked her head in. “Okay, so he’s not a charmer. But I still say go for it. Maybe he loosens up in bed.”

      “Not a chance.” Emily hung up the phone. “He probably doesn’t go to bed. He probably sleeps standing up in a corner of his office.”

      “Do you need me in the meeting to take notes?”

      “No. Do you want to take notes?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then come along, sweetie, and we’ll have lunch at the Celestial afterward. We can discuss the situation.”

      “Good idea.”

      “And, Jane, try to pretend you’re really a secretary in there. He doesn’t need to know you’re the brains of our outfit.”

      “I’ll stick a pencil through my bun and borrow your glasses,” Jane said.

      “What bun?”

      “I’ll have one by eleven.”

      “This I’ve got to see.”

      * * *

      WHEN EMILY LEFT THE OFFICE at five to eleven, Jane really had pulled her hair into a bun. It was a terrible bun, with wisps of hair escaping and two pencils jabbed through it, but it was indisputably a bun.

      “That’s really disgusting,” Emily said as they waited for the elevator.

      “Wait.” Jane lifted Emily’s glasses off her nose and put them on. “How do I look?”

      “You look like a bug with a very bad hairdo,” Emily said. “You look like Norman Bates’s mother as a young mental patient. You look like—”

      The elevator doors opened, and they got on with several other executives. Emily glanced sideways at Jane and tried not to laugh. If things got really bad, she’d just look at Jane and feel better.

      “It’s a good thing there’s only going to be the three of us in this meeting,” Emily whispered. “Anybody else would know you were up to something.”

      Jane pushed the glasses up the bridge of her nose, sniffed and said loudly and nasally, “I just want you to know, Ms. Tate, that it is an honor and a privilege to work for you, and I really mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

      “Thank you, Mrs. Frobish,” Emily said. “Your loyalty is heartwarming.”

      “Do you have any of your chocolate left?”

      “No.”

      Jane sniffed.

      The conference room was across from the elevator. Once inside, Emily realized she’d made a mistake. It wasn’t going to be just the three of them. There were six other executives in there, four of whom had brought their secretaries.

      “What is this?” Emily whispered to Jane, frowning.

      “I don’t know,” Jane whispered, “but I’m glad I’m here.”

      “I am, too,” Emily whispered. “Guard my back.”

      The door at the other end of the conference room opened, and Richard Parker came in, tall, dark and serious. And indisputably the best-looking man Emily had ever seen. Distinguished. Beautifully dressed. Powerful. And sexy, Emily thought. Definitely sexy. Every executive there except Emily stiffened in his or her seat. Every secretary there except Jane smiled warmly. For everyone there, Richard Parker radiated power and authority. For the secretaries and female execs, he also radiated sex appeal. The power and the authority were conscious, Emily decided; the sex appeal wasn’t.

      He really is extraordinarily good-looking, Emily thought. Except for his height and that jaw, he’s almost pretty. Those electric blue eyes and long dark lashes. Not businesslike. How can I make that work against him? If he was female, it’d work against him.

      His eyes swept the room and caught hers. She was the only one not looking at him with fear or lust. She met his eyes coolly and stared back at him, calculating. He was the enemy.

      He raised his eyebrows at her and moved his gaze on. Jane made a note. Emily looked at her pad. “He’s not stupid,” Jane had written, “but you can take him.”

      Emily shook her head. Jane’s one weakness was overestimating her.

      George leaned over to Emily. “What’s wrong with Jane? She looks funny.”

      “PMS,” Emily whispered back, and George nodded solemnly.

      Richard Parker looked up and frowned at them.

      George blushed.

      Emily raised her eyebrows at Parker.

      He looked startled, and then his lips twitched.

      Almost smiled there, didn’t we? Emily thought. You’re not so tough. Maybe I can take you.

      “I’ve asked you to meet with me today to discuss your past performance in budgeting your marketing campaigns,” Parker began. “It’s abysmal.”

      Several of the executives tittered and then fell silent. A few colored and looked away. Emily yawned and checked her watch.

      “Am I boring you, Ms. Tate?” Parker asked.

      “Not at all.” Emily smiled back politely. “I’m sure you’ll make your point soon.”

      George closed his eyes.

      “The point, Ms. Tate,” Parker said without raising his voice, “is that you all regularly exceed your budgets, thereby cutting into the profits this company could be making. You alone went over your budget on the Paradise account by almost thirty percent. That’s a lot of money, Ms. Tate. You may have thought there was no price too great to pay for Paradise, but I don’t agree. You could have cost this company a fortune.”

      Emily smiled at