Inappropriate - Vi Keeland Page 0,15
involved with something to foster a better work environment for women?”
“No, but—”
“If you’re too busy…”
“No, no, no. Not at all. I’d love to be part of it. What can I do? When does the committee meet?”
“My assistant will get back to you with the details.”
“Oh. Okay. That sounds great. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Yes. Alright. Well, then...goodbye, Ireland.”
He hung up sort of abruptly. But it was just as well, because I liked talking to him way too much.
Chapter 6
* * *
Grant
“Millie!” I shouted without getting up from my desk.
My assistant rushed into the office. “Yes, Mr. Lexington?”
“I need to start a new committee.”
Her brows knitted. I avoided committees like the plague, and here I was telling her I wanted to start one. “Okay…what kind of committee, and who will be involved?”
I shook my head and grumbled the answer. “The focus of the group is to improve the workplace for women.”
Millie’s eyebrows jumped.
Yeah. I know. I’m fucking shocked, too.
“Okay...” she said hesitantly, like she was waiting for the punch line. “Do you have committee members already picked out?”
I waved my hand. “Get a bunch of women. I don’t care who they are. And maybe my sister Kate. She loves to have meetings.”
“You don’t care who the women on the committee are?”
“No.” I picked up a pile of papers and shuffled them, trying to pull off casual. “Maybe invite Ireland Saint James to be part of it.”
“Ireland? The woman who sent you the decapitated flowers?”
Well, when she said it like that, it sounded a little nuts to create a committee out of thin air and invite someone who cut the heads off of the expensive flowers I sent her and walked out on our lunch date before we’d even ordered.
I sighed. “Yeah, her.”
“When would you like me…”
“Soon.”
“Do you have an agenda in mind for this committee’s first meeting?”
“Women’s shit. I don’t know. You must know better than me. Pull something together.”
Millie looked like she was seconds away from walking over and feeling my forehead to see if I had a fever.
Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe I was sick instead of losing my mind? It damn well better be one or the other. I dragged a hand through my hair. A committee on women’s initiatives? I wanted to be part of that almost as much as I wanted someone to grip my nuts in their fist and twist. Yet here I was, apparently spearheading the group.
What the fuck?
Ireland Saint James. That’s what the fuck. In my entire life, I’d never had to go out of my way to talk to a woman, yet this woman had me calling her to check how her day was going and then inventing a fucking committee when she asked the reason for my call. Stress, too much work—it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that I could be experiencing a breakdown.
While I debated a quick trip to a therapist, my assistant was still standing in my office, looking at me like I had two heads. I picked up a file and looked at her pointedly.
“Do you need anything else from me to get it started?”
“Umm... No, I don’t think so.”
“Good. Then that’ll be all.”
Millie stopped in my doorway and turned back. “The mail came. Would you like today’s letter—”
“Throw it out,” I barked.
“I’ll get right on it. And don’t forget about the photo shoot tonight.”
The confused look on my face told her I had no fucking idea what she was talking about, so she filled in the blanks.
“You have an interview and photo shoot for Today’s Entrepreneur magazine. It was scheduled a few months ago, and it’s on your calendar.”
Shit. Photo shoots and interviews were right up there with committees on women in the workplace on my list of crap I had zero interest in being part of. “What time?”
“Four thirty. At Leilani.”
I looked at my watch. Great. I had an hour to finish up six hours of work.
***
A half dozen people were already sitting on the dock in front of Leilani when I parked at the marina. It was four thirty, right on the nose. They must’ve been early.
A familiar-looking redheaded woman smiled as I approached.
“Mr. Lexington. Amanda Cadet.” She extended her hand to me. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Again. Well, that explained why she looked familiar. Though I had no idea where we’d met. Probably some industry function. “You, too. Please, call me Grant.”
“Alright. And please call me Amanda.”
I looked around at a shitload of equipment. “Are you moving