Lost and Found (Growing Pains #1)(47)

“That’s it? There’s nothing else? Nothing else that you might’ve been promised or expecting, but since this change, haven’t heard anything about? Nothing like that?”

“Uh ...” she wracked her brain. “Oh. Promotion? Pay raise? Respect?”

“Just so. Do you no longer need those things?”

“Mr. Montgomery said he would work that into the deal with being on your team. Well, all except the respect part ...”

“Mr. Fatty, as you call him, has about as much clout as you do. And forgive me, but that is about, uh … none.”

She felt her face turn red at the nickname, “So umm, that’s bad news then.”

Sean laughed again, undoing the buttons on his coat. “It would be bad news … if you weren’t paired with the top salesman who does have clout. Stop by my office tomorrow morning and I will go over the specifics.”

“Nice doing business with you Mr. McAdams—no, wait; don’t take off your coat!”

Sean froze with his suit jacket half off. She could make out his meaty shoulders and the stronger man smell. His deodorant was working, but he was probably under the impression that if he kept the jacket, it wouldn’t last for long. He was probably right, but ...holy Lord, she didn’t know if she was strong enough to sit this close to the guy and not…do something.

He looked at her in confusion, wondering what the problem was. He didn’t suspect her, thank God.

“I was just going to say…you might get ketchup on it.”

Sean looked at the bar.

“See?” Krista pointed to a tiny droplet of red thickness. It was a terrible cover.

Sean followed her finger, saw the offending substance, and looked back at her, still confused. Then a beautiful smile lit up his face. He’d guessed the problem.

“I’m roasting, Miss Marshall. I have to. Shall I get a glass of cold shower for you?” Sean finished removing his damned jacket, his smile turning devious.

“Cold shower?” Krista scoffed, getting a freaking grip! “Hardly. What’s that jacket worth? I just figured you wouldn’t want to smear it on the bar and drape it over a nasty chair.”

Sean paused again, his eyes surveying the scene. He’d fallen for it—the jacket must have been worth a pretty penny because she was no actress. In the meantime, there were those arms. And that chest. Luckily it was all still contained in a long-sleeved shirt, but now it was Krista’s deodorant that was under pressure.

“Getting back to what we were saying, we have a lot more business to do yet, Miss Marshall,” Sean said, placing his jacket on the back of his seat with care. “You think you’re working hard now? Wait until we get into the thick of it.”

“I don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t think I’m working hard now. All I had to do today was a report on sports cars. I had the whole day to do it. It took me four hours from start to finish, and that was with lengthy email pauses and shopping sprees in between. I am earning money, yes, but the internet shopping is killing me!”

Sean’s eyebrows shot up to his hair line as he looked at her. She shook her head at him and said, “Before you pat me on the back, you should know my department’s best kept secret. And if you hope to have my loyalty, you will keep this a secret from everyone--John included. John especially I should say.”

Krista gave him a stern look. He gazed back, deciding if he wanted to put himself in this pot of hot water. Actually, he was probably wondering if he could find out the secret with that tip alone.

Apparently deciding he’d have to hear it from her, or seduce Trisha, he nodded for her to go on.

“We have excellent catalogers. Excellent. Always have had, actually. As far as I can see, anything our company has ever worked on has been stored in the archives. When electronic cataloging became available, all paper copies were uploaded. Most companies wouldn’t bother. The time and manpower it takes to do that sort of thing is usually not worth it. Ours apparently thought it was worth it, very much so.”

“So...what you’re saying is, all your department has to do in most situations is just search for the information then write it down?”

“Not even write it down most times. Pull up an old report, presentation, slide show, how about a speech? It’s probably in there. I gave my presentation slides from Friday to the catalogers. They’ve been stored for future reference.”

“But you did the slides on your own?”

“I looked up all the information for that topic in our databases, and created a report on historical information. The report was mine, but the information was from the past. Thinking on it now, I probably gave you shitty information—please excuse the language. I should have balanced our company’s information with other research. But…shit, sorry. There’s no excuse. I screwed up.”

Sean was looking at her with a mystified expression. “You… no. You didn’t screw up. That you thought of it at all—because I sure didn’t, is something. Incorporate that work ethic into this next chunk of research. Don’t worry about what you just did, though. That went over perfectly. But this database…it’s for the company?”

“What do you mean?”

“Reference information. Is it available across all departments?”