Starting on Lance’s right, she introduced the six general managers, who had charge of specific production areas, and the two marketing managers, who reported to the vice president, which had been Mason up until yesterday.
Krista glanced at the two empty chairs. James’s secretary normally sat on his left side and took notes at the meetings. Had Lance told her she wasn’t needed today? And was Mason still the VP? She could see similar questions in the men’s eyes.
Changes. Sometimes they were for the good. If Lance meant what he’d said about not closing the place, then all would be well. Maybe.
“I’ll turn the meeting over to our new CEO,” she finished and sat down.
All eyes turned to the other end of the table.
“Acting CEO,” he said, still seated, his manner casual. “Heymyer will be a subsidiary of CCS, the same as Applied Controls.”
Krista recalled the original computer control company had been spun off CCS as its own corporate entity, its shares retained by the parent company, and renamed.
“As with our other companies, Heymyer will have its own CEO. First of all, no changes are imminent. Rumors will abound, but each of you should assure your employees that there are no plans to close the plant. The work schedule will continue as usual. I know the change of ownership will be unsettling to a degree, but I don’t expect production to drop during the transition,” he told them.
His manner was as reassuring as his statements, which were delivered in a confident, decisive tone. Whatever had caused him to pace his office earlier like a restless tiger was well hidden. Or put out of his mind altogether.
She tended to do that—concentrate so fiercely on one thing that everything else disappeared—much to the annoyance of some men she’d dated. Her one serious relationship had ended in failure. Truth was, she wasn’t sure what men wanted, but she wanted someone who really meant forever when he spoke of love.
Her glance went to the new owner. Not someone like him, she quickly asserted, as if he’d been put forward as an example. By nature, a raider was a hit-and-run specialist.
“For the foreseeable future,” Lance was saying, “there will be lots of meetings between this team and the CCS board and executive staff while we work out the integration of goals and procedures.”
And then, she thought, his staff will know the company inside out and can dispense with us.
She studied the eight managers, all listening with serious expressions on their faces. Six had been there long enough to retire with full pensions. The other two, one in his late forties, the other in his mid-fifties, hadn’t. Where would they go?
For the next three hours, Lance asked for reports from each person at the table. When she explained the cash flow problems resulting from the lost contract, she knew by his questions and the keen intelligence in his eyes that he understood the situation at once. Also that James hadn’t mentioned this latest bit of news.
“They canceled the order the day before the breach-of-contract penalties kicked in?” he asked.
Understanding flashed between them as they exchanged glances. She would share her concerns about that contract when they were alone.
Shortly after eleven, the new boss seemed satisfied with the reports. “I have one other announcement,” he said, his gaze on her.
A startled throb jolted to life inside her.
“Krista, will you come here, please?”
Her first thought was that he was going to fire her, right there in front of everyone. The next was that he wouldn’t do a thing like that. He’d asked her to stay six months, and they’d shook on it. He was too much the smart businessman to renege on a deal or shake up the managers in that way.
She rose and walked to the other end of the table, eight pairs of eyes burning holes in her head the whole way. If the men were half as confused by this request as she was, then they were all in for a surprise.
When she stood beside Lance, he smiled that megawatt smile that changed him to movie star handsome. It was a total contrast to the serious, probing manner exhibited during the long meeting.
She smiled back with a lot more confidence than she felt. She didn’t like the unexpected, and she felt she was in for more aftershocks from him.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. Krista felt the heat burning into her flesh. It spread along her arm, her back, down into the innermost parts of her. Taken aback, she shifted away. The fingers tightened, just a fraction, just enough to hold her.
“While I’ll be the acting CEO at present, Krista will be the Chief Operating Officer in addition to her other duties,” he said. “She’ll handle all day-to-day decisions and you’ll report to her as of now.”
For the second time in two days, she was taken completely off guard.
Lance glanced at Krista after he parked at the Rosevale Grand Inn. When he’d told her he’d arranged lunch for them at the inn so they wouldn’t be interrupted while they talked, she’d agreed readily enough. However, like the elderly secretary who guarded the CEO’s door, she hadn’t exactly been thrilled at his plans.
“This way,” he said, placing a hand in the small of her back to guide her to the garden pathway that led to the terrace, now used as an extension of the restaurant. It was his favorite place to dine and think things through.
The waitress, a friendly redhead who’d joked with him during the many weekends he’d spent there of late, smiled as he went to his usual table, glanced at Krista, then gave him a mock scowl as if reprimanding him for arriving with another woman.
Krista, he saw, noted the byplay but kept any reaction to herself.
“I’ve been staying here almost every weekend while deciding whether to add Heymyer to our holdings, also during the negotiations.” He explained the familiarity, then wondered why he had.
He rarely justified his actions and choices to anyone anymore, figuring that was his private business.
His grandfather’s tyrannical voice suddenly echoed in his head. “Just what is the reason for this B on your report card?”
“What is the meaning of this speeding ticket?”
“You’re taking who to the dance? She’s nobody—”
“So was my mother,” Lance had dared to say at seventeen, as he headed for the door. “But your son still married her.”
“He was a fool,” Claude Carrington had shouted after him. “I warned him…”
But Lance hadn’t heard the rest. He’d left the hated library where his grandfather called him on the carpet at regular intervals, and he’d never looked back.
Glancing at the lovely woman across the table, he realized if he’d kowtowed to his grandfather’s wishes to join his investment firm, he would never have started his own company, might never have met this woman.
Now that would have been a shame, as she was easily one of the most intriguing people he’d met in a long time, whether male or female.
“I looked you up on the Internet last night,” she said. “There wasn’t a lot of information in the financial magazines. You’ve only given one in-depth interview that I could find.”
“That damned article,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “I should never have allowed it.”
“So why did you?” she asked, openly curious.
“It was for a friend. He needed to prove he had access to people the editor couldn’t otherwise get. We were roommates at college so I agreed.”