Cassie's Grand Plan

The fragile balloon of self-confidence she’d tried to pump up last night was rapidly deflating. In all the scenarios she’d pictured, she’d been imagining herself answering to a bow tie–wearing nerd. She honestly had been expecting some gray-haired, button-down bore. Not the kind of man who’d make most women think of beds instead of budgets. Of sex instead of stock levels.

And she’d expected to have more time to prepare. Not get caught out in the middle of a delivery blunder, dusty and hot and annoyed. She swallowed again, resisting her tickly throat that still urged her to cough.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Melanie seemed to have recovered from her little swoon and was back to her normal efficient self. “I’ve set up the conference room for you both. All the documents you requested are in there, Cassie, and I even found an adaptor so you can plug your laptop in, too, Ronan.” Again, that sexy tone when she said his name.

“Why, thank you, Melanie.”

No. Oh, God. Had he winked again?

When he turned back to Cassie, his face was all business. Cassie refused to feel disappointed. “After you, ma’am.”

Without another word, Cassie led him into the warehouse and through the side doorway that led into the office area and the conference room.

“Conference room” was a grand title for the space that they used for staff meetings and big client pitches, but it was the most presentable part of the building. It had also allowed Cassie to exercise her passion for interior design—a passion that had played no small part in her success. Predicting trends and designing merchandising schemes were her favorite parts of the job.

Cassie had furnished the space as if it were a provincial dining room; instead of the typical imposing boardroom table surrounded by black leather swivel chairs, she’d brought in a large, whitewashed-timber dining table, plush dining chairs and a kitchen sideboard for storage. Audiovisual equipment was stored away in a large wooden trunk and dresser, while a kitchenette gave the impression of a family space ready to prepare an evening meal. The view of the loading dock from the window was the only thing that broke the illusion that the visitor had stepped into a country home.

It was one of Cassie’s favorite hideaways and she managed to take her first deep breath of the morning as she walked in. A measure of calm settled over her jangled nerves. Whether it was the fact that she had designed it herself, or that it was just the kind of room she dreamed of having in her own home one day, she didn’t know. She just knew that on those frequent late nights at work, she often left her office and came in here to soak up the comfort the room offered. Then she could pretend that she was finishing up her work at home, her family tucked up safe in bed, a lovely, soft, gentle man offering her a nightcap.

Soft and gentle was what she wanted, not sculpted and swoon worthy, she reminded herself as she took another sideways glance at Ronan McGuire. He was looking at her, an openly appraising expression on his face. Cassie swallowed hard. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he liked what he saw.

She quickly looked away. “We’re all set up in here,” she said needlessly, gesturing to the table.

“Interesting choice of furnishings, ma’am,” he said as he pulled out a chair and opened his briefcase. A hint of Southern twang to his accent stopped his “ma’am” from being smarmy—but only just. Cassie wanted to say something witty and cutting, but reminded herself of what was at risk. Besides, witty and cutting—especially in front of a hot guy who had apparently just been checking her out—had never been her forte.

Cassie sucked in another deep breath before answering. “It’s used for commercial clients and supplier meetings,” she said crisply. “It allows us to show off the Country Style look and range. Why should we buy boring gray office furniture when we have these beautiful pieces at our fingertips?”

She could hear the defensiveness in her own voice and scolded herself. It was crucial to get control of her nerves! If she was going to gain this guy’s confidence and win him over to the idea of her as CEO of Country Style, sounding bitter and defensive wasn’t the way to go about it. She had to sound like a leader. Calm. Absolutely in control.

“I understand why you’d use your own furniture range, ma’am,” he said, his tone betraying no hint of a reaction to her aggression. “Makes perfect sense.”

Cassie’s frayed nerves shredded. “Stop calling me ‘ma’am’!” Oops. She was pretty sure snapping at him didn’t count as either calm or controlled.

“Okay, I just—”

“I’m not a ma’am, I’m a miss. But don’t call me that, either,” Cassie added, flustered. How had she managed to get off on the wrong foot so quickly? She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “I don’t know if it’s different in America, but in Australia we’re quite informal, even in business. So Cassie will do. Just plain Cassie.”

Those sky-blue eyes of his swept over her, and the hardness melted away, just for a moment. A lazy seductiveness took over as his eyes did a slow sweep of her body. “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything plain about you, Cassie Hartman.” One corner of his mouth crooked up in a ghost of a smile before his eyes shuttered with the professional reserve she’d noticed earlier. “Now, shall we get to work?”

Cassie felt her stomach clench, not sure if she was furious, pleased or simply confused by his approach. Perhaps this was what he did—he got people unsettled, all the better to manipulate them so he could find what he wanted.

All she knew was that she had to be on her guard every moment he was around.

He got under her skin.

CHAPTER TWO

CASSIE WAS BARELY AWARE of the time passing until Melanie knocked on the door and walked in, interrupting them with lunch.

After that initial flirty comment, something in Ronan McGuire’s demeanor seemed to change, as though he’d flicked a switch, and from then on it had been strictly business. He delved straight into the work in front of them, polite, friendly, but entirely businesslike. It was as if the spreadsheets in front of him called to him like sirens, more attractive than any real woman. Especially plain old Cassie.

Which was fine by her. It was a relief, actually. Gave her time to pull herself together after the deep unease she’d felt at his arrival. It wasn’t just nerves about the ordeal ahead of her—something about him resonated deep within her. Was it his eyes? His accent? His smell? She put it down to the potential impact he could have on her life and tried to remember her little internal pep talk. Behave like a true leader. Calm. In control.

Once they got down to business, things were easier. When she was talking about Country Style, Cassie was in her element, and her agitation slipped away. Country Style was her baby, her home, her life. She loved her work; it was the only place that had offered her stability, security and a chance to prove herself. As she’d worked these past weeks on her proposal for Graham, she’d felt a new sense of motivation, imagined a new picture of what her life might be like. Shoring up her job at Country Style was Part One of her Plan-with-a-capital-P.

The idea that Graham might not simply rubber-stamp her pitch to become CEO had never occurred to her. Pretty much every success Country Style had had over the past four years had been her doing. Graham had moved on to his next business endeavor—another chain of retail stores, this time selling luggage—and left Cassie more or less in charge, in action if not in title. She’d worked so hard for him. And the reward was the job interview from hell.

Clearly she’d overestimated his trust in her. Perhaps because he was the nearest thing she had to a father, she’d taken for granted that he’d be as eager for her to succeed as she was herself. Instead, Graham had shown her that despite their relationship, his primary concern had to be his company. Nothing personal, he’d said. They might be close, Cassie told herself, but when it came down to it, business was always going to be business for Graham. She knew that. It shouldn’t have been a surprise.

She turned her attention back to the man in front of her. They’d spent the morning combing through Country Style’s financial reports, Cassie explaining her decisions and pointing out particular gains and losses. She was proud of her truthful, matter-of-fact answers and thought she’d shown just the right amount of passion and enthusiasm for the business.

For his part, Ronan McGuire asked pertinent questions that evidenced his knowledge of budgeting and management. To the point that she had to grudgingly admit his input and advice might just be very useful for planning the business’s future success.

His insightful questions had prompted new ideas, and she’d taken pages of notes. Even in just a few hours, he’d brought fresh thinking and original concepts to her future plans for running Country Style.

It was both depressing and exhilarating, Cassie thought, watching as Ronan politely—but still somehow flirtatiously—accepted a sandwich and coffee from Melanie.

Exhilarating because she could see how all the ideas could be implemented to create a dramatically better business.

Depressing because she hadn’t thought of them herself.

Perhaps Graham was right to doubt her management abilities.

“Thank you, Miss Mel,” Ronan drawled, bringing Cassie out of her reflection. He was so confident, she thought, so arrogant and sure of himself. But perhaps she was just seeing things that way because she was suddenly feeling so very unsure of herself.

“Thank you, Mel,” Cassie said. She wasn’t thrilled to see that Ronan’s thanks had elicited yet another little giggle and a blush, while Melanie barely acknowledged Cassie’s words. And she absolutely was not jealous of the low, sexy tone Ronan used when talking to her assistant rather than the practical, no-nonsense tone he used with her. Men didn’t talk to her that way—they never had—and she couldn’t miss what she’d never had, could she?

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. McGuire?” Mel asked.

Before Ronan could say anything—like encourage Melanie to use his first name again in that breathy Marilyn Monroe voice she seemed to have suddenly developed—Cassie interrupted. “Mel, could you please bring in the schedule for the site visits? Including the travel arrangements?” After Graham’s call yesterday, Cassie had immediately started work preparing a tour of the largest and most successful Country Style stores across Australia. She figured it was the best way to show off her success. Spreadsheets were all well and good, but nothing beat seeing the real thing in person.

“No worries. And just so you know, Cassie, I’ve cleared up the signage issues for the Hawthorn opening. The sign writers are redoing the car-park notices and the painters will be in later today to fix up the front fascia.”

“Thanks, Mel, that’s great news.” Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t believe it, but for the whole morning she’d not once given a thought to the store opening that had dominated her workload for the past several weeks. Thank goodness Melanie was still on the ball. Cassie had opened new stores before—dozens of them—but this would be the largest store in the Country Style group. Located in one of Melbourne’s most affluent suburbs, it was going to be a showcase of Country Style design and flair. With only a week to go until the opening, the major work was done—stock ordered, staff hired, store layout confirmed—it was all the little details that now needed attending to.

Melanie vanished out the door, but not before bestowing a hundred-watt smile on Ronan.

“Hawthorn signage?” Ronan asked.

“We have a new store opening next Monday,” Cassie explained.

“Ah.” He pushed the plate of sandwiches toward Cassie. “Melanie seems very efficient,” he said.

“She’s great, very organized and resourceful,” Cassie said, reaching for a salad sandwich triangle. “She’s been with us for almost five years now, and is a very important member of our team.”

He gave Cassie a considered look. “And how long have you been with the company?”

“Eleven years,” she replied, even though she was sure he already knew the answer. It was impossible someone as obviously prepared as he was wouldn’t have scoped her out—although she was reasonably sure his background check would start and finish with her career. Maybe, if he dug deep enough, he might find out about her family and what had happened to her parents—that was a matter of public record. But that would be it. No one knew how she’d come to join the company when she was seventeen except Graham, and he’d given her his word of honor that he’d never tell. She didn’t always trust Graham—and Ronan’s presence was clear evidence as to why—but on that one topic he’d never given her cause to doubt him.