Sally waved her hand as if to negate the words she’d just uttered.
“Look, can we talk about that later, over dinner?”
“I do not want to go out to dinner with you. In fact, I don’t even want to be in the same room as you.”
Her cheeks had flushed pink with fury. At least that was better than the waxen image she’d presented to him only a few moments ago.
Marilyn returned to the office and set a small tray on Sally’s lap.
“There you are, my dear. Goodness knows, with your father so ill, the last thing we need is you collapsing, too. I’ve been telling your father for years now that he needs to slow down, but do you think he listens to me?” As if suddenly aware of the leaden atmosphere between Kirk and Sally, Marilyn straightened and gave Kirk a pointed glare. “Is there anything else...sir?”
“No, thank you, Marilyn. That will be all for now,” Kirk replied. He flicked a quick look at his watch. “Eat up,” he instructed Sally. “We have fifteen minutes.”
“I don’t feel like eat—”
“Please, Sally, at least try. It’ll boost your blood sugar for now and hopefully tide you through the next few hours,” Kirk said. “Whether you like it or not, we have to work together, today in particular. The last thing I want—and, as Marilyn already pointed out, the very last thing Harrison Tanner Tech needs—is you collapsing live on camera, especially during the merger announcement and even more so when news of your father’s heart attack becomes public knowledge.”
They locked gazes for what felt like a full minute before Sally acceded to his request and began to spoon up mouthfuls of the fruit.
“I still don’t want to go out for dinner with you,” she muttered between bites.
“We need to talk about last night, and we don’t have time now.”
“I don’t particularly wish to discuss last night. In fact, I’d rather forget it ever happened.”
Her words were cutting. Her anger and distrust right now felt like a palpable presence in the room. Such a contrast to the sweet openness she had shown him last night. And the tension between them was only going to get worse when she heard what he had to tell her. There was a knock at the door, and one of the communications team popped his head in.
“Ten minutes, Mr. Tanner! We need you miked and sound checked now.”
“And me, too,” Sally interjected in a shaking voice.
“Are you sure, Ms. Harrison?”
It wasn’t Kirk’s imagination—she paled again. But in true Harrison spirit, she placed her bowl on the desk in front of her and rose to her feet. She straightened her jacket and smoothed her hands over her rounded hips. Yes, there was still a tremor there.
“Absolutely certain. Let’s get this over with,” she said tightly.
“You don’t have to speak. In fact, you don’t have to do anything at all. I can handle the announcement.”
“Really? Do you think that’s a good idea given that people will be expecting to see my father? A man they know and trust—” she paused for emphasis “—and instead they’re getting you?”
There was enough scorn in her voice to curdle milk.
“They can trust me,” he said simply. “And so can you.”
“You’ll excuse me if I find that hard to believe.”
* * *
Sally wished she hadn’t eaten a thing. Right now she felt sick to her stomach. How dare Kirk have hidden his identity from her like that? What kind of a jerk was he? Was this some form of one-upmanship, lording his conquest over her before he’d even started here—making sure she knew exactly who was the top dog? And what if he tried to hold their one-night stand over her?
Sally stiffened her spine and looked him straight in the eyes. “In my father’s absence, I would prefer to make the announcement regarding the merger. You can fill in the details afterward. It’s what Dad would want.”
The sick sensation in her stomach intensified at the thought of being the figurehead for making the company-wide statement. But she could do this. She had to do this, to save face if nothing else. Kirk looked at her for a few seconds then shrugged and reached across the desk to grab a sheaf of papers. He held them out to her.
“Here’s the statement your father prepared yesterday. If you’re sure you can handle it, I have no objection to you making the announcement and then I’ll field any questions from the floor. After the Q and A from the video feed closes, we’ll repeat the same again for the press announcement.”
“Why will you be answering questions? Why not Silas Rogers, the CEO, or any of our other senior management?”
“Sally, your father and I have been working together in the lead-up to this for several months now. No one else can give the answers I can. I’m the one who can carry out the plans your father and I made—that’s why I’ve been appointed interim chairman. The board gave their approval at the meeting that was called this morning.”
This morning. While she’d been at the hospital, out of her mind with worry over her father’s condition. Her mind latched onto one part of what he’d said and yanked her out of her brief reverie.
“Several months?” Sally couldn’t stop the outburst. “But I didn’t hear about it until yesterday!”
“It was your father’s decision to keep everything under wraps for as long as possible. Obviously he’d hoped to do the announcement with me today, present a united front and all that, but since he can’t, we’ll do the next best thing. Are you okay with that?”
Okay with it? No, she wasn’t okay with it—any of it. But her dad had thought of everything, hadn’t he? And none of it, except for a rushed dinner together last night, had included her.
“Sally?”
“Let me read the statement.”
Sally scanned the double-spaced pages, hearing her father’s voice in the back of her mind with every word she read. It wasn’t right. He should be here to do this. This company was his pride and joy, built on his hard work, and he respected each and every one of his employees so very highly. Somehow she had to remember that in what she was about to do. Somehow she had to put aside her phobia and be the kind of person her father should have been able to rely on.
With every thought, she could feel her anxiety levels wind up several notches. Be bold, she told herself. You can do this. She drew in another deep breath then stood up and met Kirk’s gaze.
“Right, let’s go.”
“Are you sure? You’ll be okay?”
Blue-green eyes bored into hers, and she felt as though he could see through her bravado and her best intentions and all the way to the quivering jelly inside. He knew. Somehow, probably through her father, he knew about her glossophobia—the debilitating terror she experienced when faced with public speaking. Shame trickled down her spine, but she refused to back down.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, forcing a calm into her voice that she was far from feeling. “It’s a video link, isn’t it? Just us and a camera, right?”
“Look, Sally, you don’t have to—”
She shook her head. “No, trust me, I really do.”
He might not understand it, but this had become vital to her now. A method of proof that she was worthy. A way to show her father, when he was well enough to hear about it, that she had what it took and could be relied upon to step up.
Kirk