Kiss Me Twice. Geri Guillaume

made.

      “Maybe I’d better lead the way,” Bastien suggested.

      She made a small “go-ahead” gesture with her hand.

      Bastien opened the door to his office and allowed her to move ahead of him. When she did so, her scent wafted after her. It was light, sweet and floral with an undertone of spice. The delicate scent contrasted with the dark severity of the power suit and her no-nonsense demeanor. Bastien tried not to draw in a deep breath as she walked by. After being caught admiring her body, she wasn’t going to catch him sniffing after her, too. Though, there was an exposed spot on the back of her neck that he imagined he could—

       Focus, Bastien. Focus! Don’t get distracted.

      She walked in, not taking a seat, but pausing to look around his office. Bastien made no apologies for it. It wasn’t much to look at. He didn’t spend much time personalizing it. No artwork on the walls other than posters of the different types of grain the company inspected. A few interoffice memos and phone lists that he’d tacked up for quick reference. No plants or statuettes to clutter the room. No photos of family or friends. Why bother making it a cozy second home when he spent most of his time out in the field?

      There was one large antique leather and mahogany desk that he’d managed to bring from his office in New Orleans. In front of the desk were two matching leather and mahogany guest chairs. One of the chairs had a three-inch gash in the back support and stuffing was starting to poke through. He always promised he would get it repaired. He’d been making that promise for four years.

      Jacie, the resident style and decor guru, tried covering the gash with a throw pillow, but the damned thing kept getting in the way when folks sat down in it. To keep from hurting her feelings, Bastien kept it in the office and tossed it on the couch that she’d also purchased.

      Jacie had meant for the couch to go in the reception area, but G-Paw didn’t want to give anyone the impression that his employees had enough time to indulge in lounging around. Since the couch was a custom job, the manufacturer wouldn’t take it back. It was black leather. Leather that was butter soft and felt good to crash on after pulling a double shift. That’s where Bastien made best use of those frilly, decorative pillows.

      “Here you go.” Bastien pulled out a chair for Phaedra. He kept his tone light and conversational as he circled around to his chair behind the desk. “So, tell me, Ms. Burke-Carter, during your initial research what dirty little secrets did you find out about us?”

      “I’m not interested in secrets at the moment, Mr. Thibeadaux,” she replied. She pulled out a manila folder, neatly labeled with the company name on it, and laid it on his desk. “I’m interested in facts. Only the things that I can observe and help you correct.”

       Man, she was good. She wasn’t going to be baited. Not that he wanted to get under her skin. He did want to crack through that icy exterior, though. She had an excellent poker face. He’d hate to be sitting across the table from her, betting his last dime. But in effect, wasn’t that exactly what he was doing? He was betting his reputation and his livelihood on the fact that she could help turn his employees around.