Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(8)

Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment as she sat at the round oak table in her tiny kitchen. Covering her face with both hands, she relived the night of the company Christmas party.

Colette had been Christian Dempsey’s personal assistant for five years. That had come about in a completely unexpected way.

After working at Dempsey Imports in customs clearance, she’d been transferred to another floor near the corporate offices. Recently married, she was excited about her promotion to broker and the raise that went with it. She and Derek were just setting up house and with the added expenses of the honeymoon and the wedding, which they’d paid for themselves, the increase in pay had been a blessing.

Although she’d been with the company for two years, Colette had only seen Mr. Dempsey briefly and in passing. He was a man who exuded authority and power. He was frequently away from the office on foreign buying trips, and whenever he made an appearance, he seemed remote and preoccupied. This had probably contributed to the mystique that surrounded him. It didn’t hurt that he was six-three, solidly built and exceptionally good-looking. Heads turned anytime he walked into a room; he commanded that kind of respect and attention. Her first day on the second floor, Mr. Dempsey had arrived at work soon after she did and Colette, standing in the corridor between his office and her own department, had greeted him.

“Good morning, Mr. Dempsey.”

Those four words would forever change the course of her career—and her life.

He walked past her, with only the slightest acknowledgement of her greeting. It was then that she noticed everyone in the room watching her.

She waited until Christian Dempsey was inside his office, then gazed around her. People simply stared. Jenny, her boss, had a coffee mug half raised to her lips, her expression one of disbelief. Mark Taylor stood in front of a filing cabinet, shaking his head.

“Why’s everyone looking at me like that?” Colette asked.

Jenny set the coffee down on her desk and answered in a hushed whisper, “No one talks to Mr. Dempsey.”

“No one,” Mark reiterated.

Colette couldn’t imagine why not. He was flesh and blood like everyone else. Wishing him a good day was just the polite thing to do. But when she asked about it, she didn’t get a satisfactory response. Jenny sputtered, “Because he’s…because.” And Mark said, “Well, he’s very busy, you know.” None of which, in Colette’s view, justified the staff’s awed—or was it fearful?—reaction.

An hour later, she was summoned to Mr. Dempsey’s office by his assistant, who came to ask if she was the person who’d greeted him that morning. Her fellow workers cast her sympathetic looks as Colette rose from her desk and followed Dempsey’s assistant into the inner sanctum. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that Jenny was biting her lip. Mark waved as if to bid her farewell. Karen Christie and the others shrugged mournfully. Colette hadn’t known what to expect…except the worst.

Christian was working on his computer when she was ushered into his office. His assistant announced her name and left her standing there. Mr. Dempsey didn’t look up. Consequently, Colette felt like some minion called in, awaiting his notice. Her mouth had gone dry and she resisted blurting out that she loved her job and didn’t want to lose it. In nervous agitation she clenched her fists at her sides. When he finally deigned to glance in her direction, his eyes held hers.

“Are you the one who spoke to me?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” She probably should’ve apologized but she couldn’t make herself do it. The thought of losing her job because she’d been polite to her employer was ridiculous. And yet…She and Derek had made an offer on a house and needed her income to qualify for the loan. Everything would fall apart if she was fired.

“Why?”

“Why did I wish you a good morning?” she repeated, wanting to be sure she understood the question.

He gave her a half nod.

“Well,” she murmured, “I was just being courteous.”

“Are you new to the company?”

“I’ve worked here for two years.” Her throat felt scratchy but she refused to let him see how nervous she was by clearing it. Dempsey’s was currently the largest Seattle import company and one of the biggest on the West Coast.

He frowned as if he didn’t believe her. “I haven’t seen you before.”

Colette squared her shoulders. “I received a promotion from customs clearance on the fifth floor to working as a customs broker.”

He studied her in silence, and when he spoke, she found his question surprising. “Is that a wedding band on your finger?”

“I was married a few months ago.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know how to respond. Anything she said might be considered crossing the line between professional respect and what could be perceived as excessive familiarity.

“Peter is leaving my employment and I’m looking for a personal assistant. You’ll do.”

“Me?” Colette slapped her hand over her heart in astonishment. “What about HR? Shouldn’t they be sending you people to interview?”

“Do you want the job or not?”

“I…sure. Only…”

“I prefer to hire my own assistants. Now, are you interested?”