The Bachelor's Cinderella: The Frenchman's Plain-Jane Project. Trish WylieЧитать онлайн книгу.
laugh again. “Etienne, have you looked in the mirror lately? Half the women in the office, old and young, are smoothing their hair and reapplying their lipstick when they hear the office door open. I’ll bet they’re all horribly disappointed when it’s me and not you who appears.”
“But you’re their friend.”
“Yes, but I don’t have a Y chromosome, broad male shoulders and a French accent. I don’t think you need to apologize for warning women away if there’s no chance you’re going to fall for them. It’s only fair to let them know you’re not available.”
He shook his head. “Yes, but it still feels arrogant to say so.”
“Better than letting them think you might be interested.”
“Should I wear a sign saying that I’m not available?”
She grinned. “That would be interesting, but I don’t think it’s necessary. In an office this size word gets around quickly.”
“Ah, the rumor mill. Who starts these rumors, I wonder.”
“In this case,” she said, with a mock curtsy, “I will.”
“Meg Leighton, spreading rumors?”
“Spreading the truth,” she corrected. “It’s a tough job but hey, someone has to volunteer to do it.” And she sighed.
“You are a very admirable woman,” he said.
“Ah, more pretty compliments. I love them,” she teased. Where had this man been all her life? And where would he be in two months?
Gone. The answer came in a flash. She’d be wise not to forget it.
THE next few days went by in a blur of work, work and more work. The entire company had to be inspected, taken apart and put back together, and Etienne marveled at the enthusiasm with which Meg and her team tackled every task. He might be the planner and the one with the experience, but once he had made a decision, Meg led her troops full steam ahead into whatever he asked them to do.
What’s more, she was a creative genius, so when he suggested that, besides updating their product, they needed to make the building suggest the appearance of a thriving concern, she drew up some ideas.
Now, here she was beside him, looking a bit uncertain. “Problems?” he asked.
“I…It’s the paint for the office.” She fidgeted with the poppy-red scarf at her waist. Meg’s penchant for color wouldn’t quite let her go the monochromatic route, Etienne had noted, and red was her favorite. It was a charming habit.
“There’s a problem with…paint?”
She sighed. “I’m sure that you wouldn’t find it a problem, but…see, I feel perfectly comfortable handling the books or the employees or the orders, but as for choosing paint…I’d really, really appreciate your input. I have this teensy little habit of fixating on colors that are overly bright.”
She did. He adored that, but for this, she was right. The office needed to have the right look for the brochure they were making.
“All right, let’s go buy paint.”
Meg shook her head. “Oh, there’s no need. I stopped by the store and picked up some color cards yesterday. I narrowed it down, picked out a few and got some samples to try on the wall. I just want you to tell me what you think of the results. I found a corner of the room where I painted a few squares. All you have to do is tell me which square is the right one.”
She led him into the main room and over to the spot she had indicated. There were four large colored squares painted on the chalk-white wall. There was a very pale almost invisible blue, a classic colonial-blue, a bold darkish blue and the last, a dazzling electric-blue.
“That last one looked better on the card,” Meg explained, clearly embarrassed. “I just…I need to see things, but even I can tell that one won’t do. It’s a bit shocking, isn’t it?”
Just then, a man stepped up to the water cooler not ten feet away. He stared at the squares, pretending to shield his eyes.
“Whoa, Meg, did you do this? Take it easy, will you? You’re going to blind me with that bright blue.”
Meg smiled self-consciously…and noticed that Etienne had moved to her side.
“What does that man—Jeff?—what job is he involved in?” Etienne asked, his voice low.
“Excuse me?” she said, lowering her voice to match his own.
“What task in particular is he working on?”
“He’s…I believe he’s working on the payroll statements.”
“All right. Good. Ask him when you can expect them on your desk. Say it calmly but firmly,” Etienne instructed.
“Is there a reason you need to know? He’s right there.”
“And you’re right here, too.” Etienne said. “A woman who wants to establish her place in the business world and wants to know how to do it.”
She looked at him for several seconds, then took a visible deep breath and turned with a curt nod despite the concern in her expression. The other man was almost ready to leave the water cooler. “Jeff, excuse me, but could you tell me how far along you are on those payroll statements? I’d like them on my desk sometime today. It’s not something I can wait on.”
The uncertain woman had been replaced by a cool, confident one. The man did a double take. He looked at Etienne with a question in his eyes, but Etienne ignored him, so the man turned back to Meg.
“Today?”
For a moment Etienne saw Meg hesitate. She didn’t want to push the issue.
“I know you can do it,” she said softly. “I have faith in your abilities, Jeff.”
The man gave her a shaky and grateful smile. “Thank you. And getting them to you today won’t be a problem, Meg…I mean, Ms. Leighton,” he said.
Her answering smile was glorious and if the man had looked as if he’d been hit with a rock before, now he took on the expression of a man who had been hit by Cupid himself. “Thank you so much, Jeff. Your expertise and promptness is making things run so much more smoothly.”
“In an hour, Ms. Leighton,” Jeff said. “You’ll have them in an hour.” He smiled at her again as he moved away.
Etienne waited for him to be gone. Then he turned to Meg.
“Well, ma chère, what do you need me for? You’re a complete natural,” he said. “I only meant for you to start making the switch from being his colleague to being his employer, but you moved him directly from employee to willing slave status.”
“He was only being truthful about the bright blue,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the vivid color.
“Maybe so, but he has to depend on you now. You outrank him and he needs to know that when he has a problem, you can help. If you don’t maintain that employer-employee status, your friends and colleagues will have no one to direct them when I’m gone,” he said.
Meg looked at him with those big, bright solemn eyes. Etienne worried that she, who had faced far too much criticism over the years, might be hurt by his comments, but she nodded. “I’ll work on that, but I’ll probably stumble now and then.”
“You have an affinity for the job. You’ll do fine.”
“You’re a good instructor,” she said. “But we still have a problem.” She looked toward the room.
“Ah, the color. Let’s go with the dark blue with ivory trim. When it