Welcome To My Family

Lucy led the way to the director’s office, where she tapped on the door. “Ms. O’Halloran is finished,” she said. “Shall I escort her upstairs?”

“Certainly not.” Ms. Nelson hurried to the door and snatched the folder right out of Lucy’s hand. “Mr. Kowalski is expecting me to deliver Ms. O’Halloran. That will be all.” She dismissed the young woman with a wave.

Kat shook her head. Had the director said Kowalski? Perhaps it was a common Polish name, like Murphy in her community. Kat might have asked, except she barely managed to keep with Ms. Nelson’s brisk stride up nine flights of stairs. Eschewing the elevator was obviously how Ms. Nelson got her exercise. No wonder she didn’t feel the company needed a recreation program! By the time the director stopped, Kat found herself standing ankle-deep in mauve carpet before a desk labeled Executive Secretary to the President.

“Mrs. Carmichael, I’d like a word with Mr. Kowalski before you send this employee in.” Ms. Nelson’s tone bordered on brusque.

Kat watched a smile fade from the face of the attractive silver-haired woman who turned from her computer. “Is that necessary, Wendy? He’s very busy, and not in the best of moods.”

Getting the feeling her presence would add to the boss’s bad mood, Kat drifted out of earshot to where she could study a large painting gracing the far wall. Suddenly the door beside her, one marked Private, flew open and a man in a dark suit almost bowled her over. “Hazel, get me the stats—” The man stopped and refocused. “You!” he exclaimed, staring at Kat.

Any air stored in her lungs lodged there as Kathleen faced the driver from the stranded car. “Mr. Sl-Slater,” she stammered. Kat quickly thrust out a hand, then withdrew it when he made no move to take it. A niggling suspicion began to emerge. Today her test jockey looked top-drawer in a navy blue pinstriped suit, white shirt with button-down collar and a striped tie with just a dash of burgundy. A matching handkerchief peeked from his breast pocket, along with a familiar gold pen.

Kat decided she’d underestimated the cost of his haircut the other day. Those precision layers, graduating from tarnished gold to sun-bleached white, were more like fifty bucks a whack.

A person who often laughed when she was nervous, Kat couldn’t prevent a giggle from surfacing now. She imagined how he’d glower if he knew how she’d labeled him the other day. Salesman…or test driver. She giggled again.

Stung by her laughter, Slater felt his blood begin to heat. “Slater’s my first name,” he said tersely. “You never asked for a last, but it’s Kowalski.” He enunciated each syllable as he stalked toward his secretary’s desk.

Kat’s jocularity died and she practically swallowed her tongue.

“You two have met?” exclaimed his personnel director and executive secretary in unison. The former recovered first. “But…you said you didn’t know anyone with a degree in kinesiology,” Ms. Nelson accused her boss. “This is the new recreation specialist I hired.”

“What?” Slater whirled, raking Kat from head to toe with a horrified look. “She’s our what?” he repeated.

“Honestly, Slater,” his secretary chided. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up with a bad heart like your father. Wendy asked do you or don’t you know Ms. O’Halloran?”

“Yes,” he bit out, then as quickly denied it, “I mean, no…I don’t.” Brandishing the clipboard, Slater advanced on Kat. “When we met, it was raining cats and dogs. One of whom left muddy paw prints all down a new linen shirt. Where is Brutus?” he asked, deliberately peering behind Kat.

His audience looked baffled, except for Kat. “Linen,” she murmured. “It figures. Poseidon’s at home. But I thought you said he only licked you. I did offer to pay the cleaning bill.” Smiling sweetly, she added, “Are you thinking of throwing that clipboard in another one of your tantrums? If so, maybe I’ll quit now.”

“I think not.” Slater flung his free arm toward his personnel director. “Ms. O’Halloran’s folder, please.” His stormy gaze never left Kat’s.

Wendolyn Nelson hugged the manila folder to her breast. “My second choice for the job was a nice young man from Purdue. He’ll have his master’s degree in three months. Of course, he wanted more money, and he can’t start until July.”

“Just give me the damn folder. If I don’t have a recreation specialist on the premises today, we can expect an employee riot.”

“But sir…Perhaps we should go through the list of possibilities again.” Ms. Nelson still clung to Kat’s folder.

This time Kat deemed it prudent not to smile.

“That’s not necessary, Wendy,” Slater snapped. “I’ll take over from here.” He pried the folder out of the woman’s hand and motioned Kat into his office with it.

“What stats did you want?” his secretary called seconds before Slater stalked inside after his unwelcome guest.

He stopped, his eyes clearly puzzled.

Kat enjoyed seeing his blank expression. It proved him human.

“I’ll, uh, get back with you on that, Hazel. At the moment, will you send out a staff memo letting everyone know Ms. O’Halloran is on board?”

Kat took the opportunity to give his office a thorough once-over. Three upholstered wing chairs faced a massive mahogany desk. She didn’t know whether or not she should sit or remain standing. After finishing with his secretary, he paced back and forth in front of the desk, flipping through her file. This room was okay, Kat decided, but it wasn’t him. There was none of Kowalski’s restless energy in the muted plaids of the furniture, the hunter-green walls or the pale gray carpets. He needed vibrant colors. Reds, purples, yellows.

But, she thought, pulling herself up short, his office decor wasn’t her business. Instead, she drifted over to look out the bank of windows. My, but he had a beautiful view. Gazing at the complex, Kat realized it was a veritable park. Low, angular buildings nestled discreetly among tall trees. Broad walkways would be perfect for jogging. Maybe he did jog. Perhaps that was what kept him fit. She sneaked a peek at his lithe, narrow-hipped profile. Nice. Yummy. Feeling her blood sing in her veins, Kat spun away to explore yet another wall—this one filled with awards.

“So,” he suddenly challenged from behind her. “Your father is Timothy O’Halloran. Damn. I just knew it.”

Kat whipped around. “What does my pop have to do with this job?”

“Nothing. You’ve listed him as next of kin.” Slater sat in the swivel chair and picked up a pencil. Gripping both ends at once, he stared at her; she felt like a bug being studied. “You did phone Dempsey the other night. That’s commendable. Frankly, I can’t help wondering which of your father’s bad traits you’ve inherited.”

Kat’s initial sizzle of interest gave way to anger that burned a path to her cheeks. “Now, wait a darn minute! If you’re in any way related to Louie Kowalski, you have some nerve bringing up bad traits. My pop was a respected electrical engineer at Motorhill up until he met Louie.”

“Louie?” Slater’s face matched hers shade for shade. “My father is called Lou at the country club, L.J. in board of directors meetings and ‘Sir’ when he strolls around this complex. Never Louie. Or not until he ran afoul of Tim O’Halloran, that is.”

This information set Kat back on her heels. Somehow, it wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. Now she didn’t wait for an invitation but plopped down in one of Slater’s wing chairs. “Your father’s on the board here?” she whispered.

“He stepped down from the presidency last January.” Slater shrugged impatiently. “He’s board chairman, just like his father was before him. What isn’t like my grandfather is the irresponsible way L.J.’s behaved since he met Tim O’Halloran and his hoodlum pals. Instead of good works, he spends his spare time on poker or at the track.”

“Seems to be a lot of that going around,” Kat said, shaking her head. “If it’s any consolation, it’s not normal behavior for my pop, either.”

Slater drummed his fingers on her manila file. “Regarding the job. I take it you’re aware of how I feel about instituting this position in my company?”

“One would have to be the village idiot not to pick up on that.” Kat looked away and caught her lip between her teeth. “So…” She worked to get a grip on her cartwheeling emotions. “Did you ever figure out what was wrong with your car?”

Slater straightened. Once again she’d thrown him off balance. Damn, but he couldn’t stop looking at her lips…. The CEO in him beat a hasty retreat. As he stared at her, he saw that concern darkened her huge eyes, tugging on his sympathy. Plus, Slater noticed an appealing smatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “This is not a social chat we’re having, Ms. O’Halloran,” he said, attempting to regain control. “Nothing about that car concerns you. Got it?”

Kat scooted forward in her chair but felt her skirt catch. It was a curse of being short; her feet never quite touched the floor when she sat in big, roomy chairs. “Got it,” she repeated, her reply sounding a trifle breathless, which might have been partly because his eyes followed the tug of her hands on a ridiculously short skirt. “I work here, but I don’t ask questions about the product.” She returned his frown. “Makes no sense to me.”

“Speaking of your job. Is that your normal work attire?” Almost before the remark was out of Slater’s mouth, he cursed himself for saying a word.

Kat laughed. She couldn’t help it. The family had coerced her into wearing a suit and he didn’t like their choice. “At the resort, I generally wore sweats. Weather permitting, shorts.”

“No shorts,” Slater sputtered. “This whole notion of play at work is ridiculous. I don’t know what possessed the other automakers. It only lengthens the overall workday when you give longer lunches and extra breaks to accommodate recreation. Don’t workers want to get home to see their wives and kids anymore?”

“Have you talked to staff at Motorhill? Or plant managers in Detroit? Absence goes down and productivity up where they have recreation programs. I interned at a facility where they started a new program. I can personally vouch that it did make a difference.”

Slater declined comment. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers against his lips. “What equipment would you need to get something minimal going?”

Kat was extremely glad she’d climbed out of bed last night to draw up a list. She extracted it from her purse and pushed it across his desk.

As Slater perused it, his straight brows almost met over his nose.

Kat chewed her lower lip again and waited for him to throw the list in his wastebasket.

But when he spoke, Slater sounded calm enough. “Space isn’t an issue. I’ve got an empty warehouse and plenty of ground to grade for a ball field. Equipment is something else. I think it’s only fair to tell you, Ms. O’Halloran, I have an attorney checking for loopholes in the proposal our workers presented to the board. The minute he finds one, your program is history. Surely you understand my reluctance to invest in equipment.”

Kat steepled her fingers in a gesture exactly like his. “Do you work out?” she asked bluntly, knowing he had to in order to remain so lean and trim.