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Inappropriate(15)
Author: Vi Keeland

I played the conversation over in my mind as I headed for the elevator. While I had been forthcoming, Grant hadn’t actually admitted anything. In fact, when I asked him if he’d created the meeting just for my benefit, he’d turned the question around on me. He never did give me a straight answer, did he?

 

 

Chapter 9

 

* * *

 

Grant

 

“A committee on women’s initiatives? Seriously?”

I sighed as my sister Kate helped herself into my office. “We already did this dance after the meeting ended, remember?”

“I’m not done discussing it.”

“Of course you’re not,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Why the committee? There’s a reason.”

I shuffled papers on my desk. “It’s an initiative I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I thought I’d mentioned it to you.”

Kate squinted. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you been thinking about this initiative?”

“A long time.” I stacked the papers I’d gathered into a pile in the middle of my desk and straightened them. My sister stayed quiet. She was waiting for me to look at her. I took a deep breath and raised my eyes to meet hers.

She studied my face before speaking again. “Why don’t I believe you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Because you’re a man-hating narcissist.”

“True. But that’s not it.”

I knew all of my sister’s tones. There was the pissed-off one when she thought I was an asshole and was starting to lose patience, and there was the warm and caring one she used when she discussed subjects like our parents. Most commonly I was on the receiving end of the snarky tone, which I generally deserved. But the tone right now? This was her bloodhound tone, the one where she sank her teeth into every word I said to look for underlying meaning. She knew I was full of shit about my interest in a women’s initiative, and it was killing her not to know the real reason I’d done what I did.

I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a file. Plopping it down on the desk, I said, “I have a meeting in five minutes, so why don’t you go play detective in your own office. If you come up with any more clues, have your assistant send a memo to my assistant.”

My sister scowled at me. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

My lips curved to a genuine smile. “Love you, too, sis.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Don’t forget about the One World Broadcasting fundraiser Friday night. Are you bringing Arlia?”

“Arlia and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.” I made a mental note to let Arlia know about that.

“Oh. Who are you bringing?”

“I don’t always need to bring a date to functions.”

“Yet you always do...” She walked toward my doorway. “Oh, I almost forgot. The woman you recommended to replace Bickman—Madeline Newton—came back clean on her updated background check. I interviewed her after my director finished. We both agree she’d be a good fit. I’ll be making her an offer at the end of this week. But we can invite her to the fundraiser if you’d like. Bickman always went, and we have the empty seat at our tables.”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

Kate turned to leave.

“Wait,” I called after her. “Who usually gets invited to these things if there’s no department head?”

She shrugged. “No one. Or sometimes the acting department head.”

“On second thought, let’s hold off on making Madeline an offer for a week or two.” I pulled a lie out of my ass. It was so believable that when I said the words, I wondered if maybe they were true. “I heard she applied over at Eastern Broadcasting. I’d like to see if she takes that job if we don’t give her the position right away—see how loyal she is and what she’s willing to risk to stick around with us.”

My sister looked surprised, but she bought the story.

“Oh. Okay,” she said. “That’s a good idea. I’ll hold off on her offer and won’t invite her to the fundraiser, which would give her a hint she was getting the job. I’ll see if the interim department head can attend instead.”

Nice, Kate. Your idea to invite Ireland. I waved my hand like I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of the interim department head coming to the fundraiser decked out in a sexy-as-shit dress. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

Kate went to turn around a second time, and I stopped her yet again. “Also, since the topic of sexual harassment came up in our new committee meeting, I’d like to read our policy—brush up on how we handle things. And also whatever policy we have on workplace relationships.”

Maybe I’d pushed my bullshit too far. My sister’s brows jumped. “Really? You want to read policy?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, I suppose. We have a sexual harassment policy, of course. But we don’t actually have a corporate policy prohibiting office relationships and dating. Eighty percent of people have either observed or been involved in an office relationship. Who are we to tell people that work ninety hours a week that they can’t date a coworker?”

I scratched at the scruff on my chin. “So what Ms. Saint James referenced in our meeting—a boss asking an employee on a date—that’s permissible?”

“Well, that’s where it gets tricky. It’s not illegal or against policy for a manager to ask out his employee, per se. But sexual harassment is illegal under Title VII of the federal Civil Rights Act, as well as California law and our own corporate policy, which prohibits creating a hostile workplace based on a person’s sex. A manager and an employee get friendly, maybe one misreads the other’s signals, and then all of a sudden a rebuffed request for a date creates a difficult workplace environment.”

I nodded. “Good to know. Thank you.”

After Kate disappeared, I sat down in my chair and stared out the window. I’d never dipped my pen in company ink. In fact, I didn’t get involved with anyone in the goddamned industry. I liked my private business kept private. Yet here I was inquiring about policy and procedure, ready to rewrite it if I needed to, just to keep my fantasy about getting in Ireland Saint James’s pants alive.

Fuck. I dragged a hand through my hair.

That thought alone could probably get me in hot water. Though, like my sister said, federal and state laws only pertained to unwelcome advances. And Ireland had been clear that my previous advance—before she knew who I was—hadn’t been unwelcome. Now all I needed to do was to have my employee welcome further advances—like telling her I can’t stop thinking about her wicked mouth wrapped around my cock.

 

***

 

Two days later, I’d managed to get my head back in the game and get some actual work done—work that didn’t involve Ireland Saint James. I’d just finished a conference call with our London attorneys when Millie knocked and opened my office door.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. But you have a visitor.”

I looked at my watch. “I didn’t think the meeting with Jim Hanson was for another hour.”

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