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But, oh, she did! She had told David that she had received offers from other publishers, which was true - but she had turned them down. Working at Gallagher's gave her creative freedom, or at least it did.
She was given the autonomy to run the show. She had her assistant, her own corner office with her name in gold on the door - 'Delores Pennant - Chief Editor' and she had earned it. She had started working as a copy editor and then moved up to be assistant to Gayle, who had worked there for years.
When Gayle left for Europe, the position had been hers, and she had implemented several necessary changes. She had fought tooth and nail for those changes because Jerry and the board did not believe a woman should be running the show, and they were as tight as a tick.
But she had been determined and had forced them to see things her way. She would also like to believe that she had been instrumental in making the publishing house a lot of money. Over the last three years, she had negotiated a very hefty compensation package, but she deserved it.
Standing in the moderate-sized office with its small fireplace and large window overlooking the gardens, with flowers blooming in delicate profusion, she realized that she would do anything to stay.
This was where she belonged. She had dealt with the politics, the unending board meetings that she had to attend, even though she was not a member, and had endured those stuffy relics dictating terms just because they could.
Yes, she was abrupt and impatient when pressing her point across, but that might be because she could not figure out why they were so stuck in the old ways of doing things.
The world was changing, and they had better change with it. More and more people were going the self-publishing route, and social media was becoming the way to get things out there. It was efficient and successful.
She had been angling for a social media department for years without getting anywhere. They had a liaison to do the bulk of the work, and she had to be satisfied. Taking a deep breath, she shrugged out of her light jacket and hung it on the coat tree shaped like a swan, something she had found in one of her antique hunting.
It was barely seven-thirty, so she was the only one to be here for the next hour. Walking over to the cabinet, she programmed coffee and poured herself a glass of water while she waited.
The view outside her window had always delighted her and managed to soothe her frazzled nerves. Even in the changing seasons, it managed to be spectacular. In the fall, she was dazzled by the myriad of leaves on the ground, the mic of colors that reminded her that nature was something to wonder about.
In the winter, the snow would cover the trees, a brilliant white against the brown bark of the tree trunks. She often stood at the window looking out with the fire behind her and watched the snowflakes landing against the window pane.
Like now, she could look at the flowers with the tender blooms and the blanket of treated grass in the spring. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she went to pour coffee and took it back to her desk. She would do as David suggested and continue working until she hears otherwise.
*****
He had had a very lousy night, and he was pissed as hell. The erotic dream had left him shaken to the core. And it included her. Ever since she had stormed into his office and started lashing at him, he had been unable to forget her.
Last night, in his dreams, he had her naked in his bed and demanding to feel the passion she had exhibited in his office, and she had. The love had been hot and burned his skin, scorching him to bones. He had jumped up with a hard-on that had refused to go down.
Now, he was berating himself for thinking about her. He should fire her for insubordination. No one speaks to him like that - ever. And he had allowed her to.
But she was excellent at her job. He had done extensive research on her work at the publishing house, and the changes she had implemented had been rather clever and successful.
Gallagher was the owner or whatever the hell he called himself, but Delores Pennant was the one who ran the show. He should get rid of Gallagher, who was nothing but a damn figurehead, but he had lessened his authority, and that was good enough for now.
The board members were another matter altogether. They were old men who just sat around the conference table because they had a few shares in the company and did not contribute anything.
The comparison to his board was laughable. His board members were a mixture of men and women who were sharp and very active in their roles. He had also done his research there and decided that he would force them to retire.
The most shares they held were a maximum of seven percent. He had bought into the publishing house and held the majority of fifty-one percent, meaning he could flex his muscle.
The place had the potential, of course, the main reason he had bought those shares in the first place. His company owned a successful newspaper and a radio station among its numerous holdings, so he figured the next step was a publishing company.
He looked up at the discreet knock on the door and watched his very competent assistant come in with the files he had ordered.
"Your breakfast meeting is at Cybil's. They have prepared a private room for you, and you have the media conference at two. In between that, your barber has freed himself up and can come to you here at one. Mr. Jackson Colby called and is reminding you of the showing of his latest pieces at his gallery at eight."
An amused smile touched his stern mouth. "I will get back to him. Thank you."
"Your coffee is getting cold." She pointed out as she placed the folders on the desk before him. "Would you like a fresh cup?"
"No. I am going to take the files with me and head out."
Pushing away from the desk, he got his jacket and briefcase.
*****
