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I put down the file I was reading.
As she stepped past the doorway, I wondered if maybe she’d be worth putting off my celibacy pledge for another week or so.
She wore a sky blue, form-fitting blouse, with only a business-appropriate number of buttons open, and a dark pencil skirt. Her nice legs and obviously full tits under that blouse would be a nice distraction from my troubles.
Except I’d sworn off girls for the foreseeable future, and I was expecting the guy from the PR consultancy any minute. “Sorry to say this isn’t Zoe’s office any longer. She’s in London now.
“Good for her.” The woman sauntered in and extended her hand. “Charlie Vaughn, Mr. McAllister. I think I’m on your calendar for eleven o’clock.”
I quickly stood, removed the confusion from my face, and rounded the desk to give her a firm shake. “Hi. Yes, sorry, and it’s just Evan.”
She added an engaging smile to the deep blue eyes that held mine captive. “Evan, that’s a strong name.”
That was a come-on if I’d ever heard one. I motioned to the visitor’s chair. “Please,” I suggested as I returned to my seat.
She pointed at my chair. “Bad back?”
“Not at all. I merely like to be comfortable.”
Still smiling broadly, she folded her hands in her lap and crossed her legs. They were very nice legs. “Well then, based on my name you obviously expected a man.”
“You must run into that a lot.”
“And obviously…” She pointed again. “Somebody who uses a fancy ergonomic chair has a back issue.”
“I said I don’t.”
“I understand. Those are just examples of how each of us can make snap judgments without having all the facts—how simple things like the nickname I use or the appearance of your chair can lead even intelligent people to make quick and incorrect assumptions.”
I nodded. “Point taken. If not Charlie, then what?”
She seemed to be debating whether to tell me or not. “Charlotte, but in business settings I prefer Charlie. I was told you’re very good at your job.”
And that was a very smooth shift away from the topic. I was unclear how to read her comment. Her directness was surprising, and appealing. “Charlotte is a very strong name as well, derived from the French, I believe, meaning free man.”
“While I appreciate the compliment, that won’t work on me, Mr. McAllister,” she said, emphasizing my name. “We’re not here to practice pickup lines. We’re going to keep coming back to the issue at hand.” There was that directness again, but the implied insult was less appealing.
I schooled my features to neutral. “Which topic would that be?”
“You’re familiar with why I’m here?” She recrossed her legs and settled back in the chair.
I mirrored her, relaxing back as well. “Not exactly. My father sent you.” He’d been clear about wanting to improve the company’s image, but not what constituted success.
“Sent,” she noted. “Interesting choice of words.” She let silence linger for a moment. “Sentimplies something different than engaged, suggested, or recommended, wouldn’t you say?”
Unclear where this word game was going, I agreed. “I suppose so. Exactly what is it you were engaged, suggested, or recommended for?” After the pickup-line comment, I wasn’t going to make this easy on her. And, having her explain it would give me an idea of Dad’s parameters for success.
“Image rehabilitation, but this doesn’t work without personal buy-in. Are you willing to commit to the process?”
I wasn’t any more eager to jump ship now than when Dad had given me the chance yesterday. “Completely. I gave Dad my word.”
“I specialize in personal image rehabilitation.”
I sent a stare her way. “I’m more focused on how we can improve the company’s image,” I countered. “I think that’s what’s most important.” Not to mention, it was obviously Dad’s most pressing concern, and the thought of rehashing the events of the other evening didn’t appeal to me either.
She shifted to lean forward. “Bradley will be meeting with you to discuss that area. My focus will be on your personal image.”
I folded my arms in front of me. “I can save us both some time. I already got the lecture: Stay out of the news.”
