An Unforgettable Lady (An Unforgettable Lady #1)(31)

As they stepped into the lobby, she thought about her attraction to him.

Was he right? Was her fascination with him because he was from a different world? She didn't think so. No matter what planet he was from, it was the electricity between them that tempted her. He could be another fancy-dressed, dandy blue blood like her husband or a garage mechanic. When she was in his arms, she wasn't thinking about his tax returns.

As soon as they were inside the Hall Building, people started coming up to her, greeting her, talking. It took them ten minutes to get into the elevators and she kept the conversation going with more staff while heading up the building. She asked about wives, husbands, children, family members, all by name.

When they emerged on the top floor and started down the hallway to her office, he said, "You know everyone here."

“My father inspired loyalty. A lot of the employees have been here for decades." Grace stuck her head into a conference room and waved at people in a meeting. They waved back.

"They're responding to you."

She glanced at him in surprise as they came up to Kat's desk. The young woman slowly put down her pen, eyes widening.

"Good morning, Kat," Grace said.

"Good morning."

The girl had yet to look Grace's way.

Grace smothered a smile and introduced them. "He's going to be with me for the next couple of weeks, doing some consulting work. Any calls yet?"

Kat cleared her throat and shuffled some papers. She looked up at Smith again and finally glanced over to her boss. "Ah—yes. Yes, I left them on your desk. Oh, and his lordship, the count, called. He said that he tried to reach you at home but had been unable to get through. He'd like you to call him and said you knew where he was."

"We'll be in my office for the morning."

"The count said it was urgent."

"Then I hope he's holding his breath," she muttered softly.

"What?"

"Nothing, Kat. Thanks."

When the doors were shut and they were alone, Grace put her purse down on the desk and planted herself in her father's chair.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "So, ah ... what will you do all day? I don't want you to be bored."

"I'm not a guest, remember?" Smith settled himself at the conference table. "I’m working. Just like you are. I'll need a set of plans for this building and your schedule for the next month."

Grace opened her mouth to speak but the intercom buzzed.

"Lou Lamont is here to see you."

"Does he look like he's going to want more Earl Grey?" Grace asked.

Kat laughed softly and whispered. "No. He doesn't seem to be in the mood to stay long."

"Make a note, will you? He's getting a tea cozy for Christmas from us. Also, can you print out my schedule for the next four weeks and get security to bring up a set of floor plans?"

"Floor plans? For the executive suite? "

"The whole building."

"Ah, okay."

Grace was just getting to her feet when Lamont burst into the room.

One look at Smith and he pulled up short.

"Who are you?" The man's tone was imperious.

Smith rose from his chair slowly and Lamont tilted his head up with surprise.

In a calm voice, Grace introduced them and fed Lamont the OD line.

“No offense," he said to Smith, in a voice meant to be subtly offensive, "but you look like a bouncer."

Smith's smile didn't reach his eyes as he sat back down without responding. He looked utterly unconcerned with the man and Lamont bristled.

He looked over at Grace. "What do we need an OD consultant for?"

"The Foundation has been through a big change and we need help."

Disgust clipped the man's words short. "This is ridiculous. You tell me we can't use Fredrique, who could really make a difference, only to bring on some new age, touchy-feely—"

"Do you think Mr. Smith looks like a touchy-feely kind of guy?"

Lamont's eyes flickered across the room at the other man and then shot back to Grace. "And just what do you hope to accomplish?"

"We need to have a unified team."

"Unified—" He shook his head. "Your father and I ran this place for years. The Foundation doesn't need a team, it needs a strong leader at the top."

"You and I see things differently." Before he could argue further, she cut him off. "What I'd really like is to stop fighting with you."

"I haven't been fighting. You're just defensive."

"So those conversations you've been having with board members behind my back are somehow supportive? You must show me what I'm missing." Grace smiled calmly while Lamont tried to construct a response. "But enough about this. Shouldn't you be in Virginia?"

Lamont shoved his hands into his pockets and began to rattle his change. "That's the problem. I spoke with Herbert Finn the third this morning. They've changed their mind. We aren't going to be auctioning off the collection at the Gala."

Grace covered her disappointment quickly.

Every year, the Hall Foundation Gala offered an important piece of Americana for auction. The seller agreed to take half the money and got a hefty tax write-off. In return, the Foundation got a generous donation and the evening was injected with the kind of sizzle that made people scramble to buy tickets to the event. At the auction, inevitably the bidding was fast, furious, and, in a genteel fashion, vicious. In the past, they'd sold a handwritten draft of Martin Luther King's "dream" speech, a pristine set of union     battle plans for Gettysburg, and Betsy Ross's first flag.