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He’d been impressed by her hard work, he’d said. Prided himself on recognizing talent in the ranks. And then there’d been that fantastic meeting a few days later, when Robert and Ian had called her into Ian’s office to discuss her future.
Her future? She’d just been hoping she could hang on to the job she had until she hit sixty-five.
But they’d talked about grooming her for the position of assistant business manager and discussed the rest of her schooling. Who would have guessed? Little Janey Kinney—Webster now, and maybe not as little as she’d been a few years back—moving into management?
At a sharp rap at her door, she looked up to see Robert standing there, slender and tall with his silvered hair and those intelligent pale-blue eyes. Exactly like someone who’d stepped out of the pages of a men’s magazine.
“Aren’t you ready?” He tapped his wrist. “We needed those reports ten minutes ago.”
There might have been a brief flash of annoyance in his eyes, but his voice was as smooth as ever, and it sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Robert Hanson. Mrs. Robert Hanson. Jane Hanson.
Now and then she doodled every possible combination of her name and his, while daydreaming at her desk—then ran those pages of dreams through the shredder by her desk to make sure no one saw them.
“Jane!”
He gave her an odd look, and she realized she’d been staring. Heat flooded her cheeks. “Yes, sir—I’m really, really sorry. I just wanted to check the figures one more time.”
He disappeared silently down the hall—he was always quiet, because he wore the most gorgeous, butter-soft Italian loafers with soft crepe soles, and sometimes he surprised her by suddenly materializing at her desk without a sound.
She followed him into Ian’s office and hesitated, unsure of what was expected. She usually came in, handed over the documents requested, and headed back to her own office. This time, Ian moved behind her to firmly shut the door.
Ian flicked a glance at Robert, then folded his hands on his massive walnut executive desk and gave her a benevolent smile. “Have you thought about what we discussed earlier, Mrs. Webster?”
Excitement started dancing in her midsection. “Oh, yes.”
Robert settled into a chair next to her. “It’s quite a change, moving up from the ranks of office personnel into management. Are you up to the challenge?”
“I...I think so.”
Ian toyed with the gold pen on his desk. “Robert tells me you show a great deal of promise. You would be working under him, you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Allegiance changes when one moves up the ranks,” Robert said. “You’re no longer just one of the workers—a buddy who can share confidences at the water cooler.”
“I understand.”
“Sometimes there can be jealousies when someone is promoted.” He turned in his chair and hooked one elbow casually over the back, then met her gaze. “Sometimes there’s the temptation to share a little gossip, just to try to keep those old friendships going. You’d have to be absolutely ethical about not sharing inside information about company business.”
“Of course. Absolutely!”
Ian chuckled. “Robert is painting a grim picture of something that’s a great opportunity. I hope—” The phone on his desk rang. “Excuse me—I told Marcy not to disturb us. This must be important.”
Lifting the receiver, he swiveled away to face the window behind his desk.
A minute later he turned back. “We’ll have to finish this discussion another day. You agree to the promotion we’ve offered?”
“Yes—yes, I do.”
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Good. Glad to have you aboard.” He reached for the files Jane had placed on his desk. “Robert, do you have the bids on the lanolin for the Gardener’s Hand Cream in yet?”
Jane rose and hovered awkwardly for a moment. “Thanks...thanks so much, sir. And to you, Mr. Hanson.”
Neither of them seemed even to notice as she left the room. Feeling a vague sense of disappointment, she headed for the door.
By the time she reached her office, though, her excitement started to build once more. She’d been promoted! Robert liked her. They’d be working together a lot. Who knew where that could lead?
She glanced at the calendar on her desk and smiled. Robert had taken her out to lunch once already, and Thanksgiving was still two and a half weeks away.
