Shifting Shadows: Stories from the World of Mercy Thompson(121)
“I’m married, and he still . . .” She shuddered. “Between him and you, I was pretty upset this weekend when my husband called. I told him about everything that had been happening here, and he said”—her voice dropped into what was evidently her attempt to sound like her husband—“‘It sounds like every time Duffy comes out to bother you, Shaw emerges to yell at you and make you run stupid errands.’ I agreed, and he told me to think about that, then get you a cup of good coffee from him.” She smiled, revealing a charming dimple. Ben reminded himself he hated dimples almost as much as gratitude. “So here’s a cup of—”
“Ben,” trilled Lorna Winkler, head of IT.
Ben felt a headache coming on. For such a promising day, it was going to end badly. If Mel triggered his dislike of women, Lorna clubbed him over the head with it. He wasn’t fond of the company’s policy of women bosses—but he might have dealt if they had mitigated the damage by hiring the smart ones.
Lorna was beautiful, power mad, and needed help to send e-mail—just exactly the person to put in charge of a bunch of computer nerds. Whenever she came down from on high to invade his cubicle—which she did to everyone because it was “friendlier than summoning you up to my office”—he figured there was a fifty-fifty chance he was going to quit in the next ten minutes. In the time he’d worked there, she’d visited him, personally, twice.
He’d overheard enough of her “friendly pep talks” to know that she liked to begin speaking well before she made it down to the cubicle of whoever she was aimed at. Her first calling out of his name had started near Mel’s desk.
“I’ve had a report from one of my people,” she warbled at him from halfway down the hall, “that you are harassing our secretary.”
Mel raised her eyebrows at him, and Ben curled his lip, and whispered, “Duffy’s been whining to Mummy, again.”
Mel grinned, then covered her mouth as Winkler, all six feet of the immaculately groomed gorgeousness that had allowed her to be Miss California a decade earlier, entered his sanctuary.
She clearly hadn’t been expecting Mel. She stopped, regrouped, and began again. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mel, so that Ben can apologize to you. Our company has a firm policy against harassment.”
“I’m sorry,” said Ben, with patent insincerity.
“He’s not harassing me,” Mel said at exactly the same moment. She continued with a confident smile. “He can get a little grouchy, but everyone knows that. And we all make allowances for genius, right?”
Winkler wasn’t pleased with having the rug pulled out from under her. “Don’t you consider having books slammed in front of you harassing? It was hostile and aggressive. I won’t have any woman in my department made uncomfortable.”
“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” Mel said agreeably. “I’m sorry if Mr. Duffy had that impression.”
Ben wasn’t used to having a woman defend him. It made him feel odd. Odder than it should. Wrong. Especially given that it was Mel defending him. It felt even odder than the impulse that had begun his game of keep the secretary safe from Duffy. It was so disconcerting that he didn’t say anything.
Winkler wasn’t ready to give up. Maybe she’d promised Duffy that she was going to fire him. “I’ve also had reports that Ben’s language is objectionable.”
Mel looked proud, and said, “He quit swearing two days ago. The whole DBA group has money on when he’ll break, but so far he’s doing really well, and we appreciate his effort to change his behavior. Ken Lincoln even promised that if Ben can quit swearing, he’ll agree to quit smoking.”
• • •
Adam laughed at his consternation as Ben told him the whole story later. “I’m so sorry,” his Alpha told him carefully, “that you’ve been used as a motivational force for good in your workplace.”
“It’s your fault,” Ben groused, sinking lower in Adam’s couch. “If I hadn’t been trying for that scotch, it wouldn’t have happened.”
He’d come to Adam because . . . He didn’t think of Adam as his father. He’d had one father, and that was enough for him. But Adam was good at sorting out people. This past month, Ben was starting not to recognize himself. He needed to know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“Do you know why I did it?” he asked, because he was bewildered by the need that had driven him to protect Mel—whom he didn’t even like.
“Because she’s your secretary,” Adam said, then grinned at Ben’s expression. “How long have you been working in the DBA group?”
“Something over two years.” If Adam was going somewhere with this, Ben didn’t know where it was.
“Ben,” Adam said, “are you a dominant wolf or a submissive wolf?”
“Dominant.” Not very. Bottom of the pack now that Peter was gone.
“What makes up a dominant personality?”
All of his life, Ben had always been considered brilliant—troubled, obnoxious, criminal, occasionally violent, but always brilliant. He didn’t like the feeling that he was missing something, and he liked the hint of patience in Adam’s voice that told him that Adam expected him to miss something even less. Ben’s first Alpha had been more beast than man, and he’d never explained anything about dominance other than the absolute rule that Ben had to obey everyone he couldn’t take down.