She blew out a deep breath, trying to gauge just how honest she dared to be. Yes, she didn’t like celebrities. Ridley Sinclair had made her life horrible and she knew that most male celebrities wouldn’t think twice about acting that way. But in all honesty, nothing Ward had done since she’d met him indicated he was anything like those men. Which, somehow, almost made it worse.
She could dismiss someone like Ridley Sinclair. But hardworking, straight-talking Ward? He was much harder to ignore.
Since she couldn’t admit any of that aloud, she grasped at straws and pulled the first one that came away in her hand.
“Okay,” she said. “For starters, I don’t like the way you’ve stormed in here and taken over. You’ve been in town less than a day and you’re already blowing our budget on whiteboards and catered fruit trays.”
“I didn’t spend the charity’s money on those things.”
“Oh.” He’d spent his own? She suppressed a groan. Hot and generous? She was so screwed. Still, he was looking at her expectantly. So she yanked out another straw. “You think that makes it better? That if you throw around money, the things you want will get done?”
He flashed a smile with just a tinge of charming chagrin. “Generally, that is the way it works.”
“Well, not in my experience it doesn’t. If we’re going to reach all of our goals, we need to be realistic and conscientious and—”
“Let’s cut to the chase, Ana. Are we going to have a problem working together?” His tone was cold, his gaze quietly assessing.
Alarm bells started jangling in the back of her brain again. She rubbed the sole of one foot across the top of the other. Remember the odds. One superstar. Eighty-nine million bleeding-heart liberals waiting to take her place if she screwed up this job.
But even as that refrain echoed through her brain, she realized it wasn’t about that. Not really. The truth was, she didn’t really want to be attracted to him. Didn’t want to like him.
Ana drew in a deep breath—wishing he wasn’t sitting quite so close—and then she exhaled slowly.
Was she going to have a problem working with him? Maybe. Would he ever know it again? No. Nope. Nada.
She forced a serene and welcoming smile. “No, Mr. Miller. We won’t.”
His gaze narrowed slightly at the use of his last name, as if her formality annoyed him. She clenched her hands together to keep herself from fidgeting.
“Did you know, Ms. Rodriguez, that I was twelve the first time I performed professionally on stage?”
Disconcerted by his direct stare, she reached her hand up to tuck aside that loose strand of hair. It was all she could do not to fan the back of her neck. “No. I didn’t know that.”
“I had my first record deal at fifteen. Signed with my first major label at nineteen.”
Maybe it was the slow, lazy way he spoke. Or maybe it was the attentive way he met her gaze. This wasn’t him bragging. It wasn’t him trying to impress her. He was making a point. She had the feeling that when he got there, she wasn’t going to like it.
“I’ve been in this business for twenty-four years. Which is almost as long as you’ve been alive.” He shrugged with a wry smile. “Almost as long as I’ve been alive, for that matter. In my years in entertainment—” he rocked his chair back onto two legs, steepling his fingers over his chest “—I’ve dealt with all kinds of people who tried to take advantage of me. I’ve dealt with people who claimed they wanted to protect me. Wanted to be my best friend. When you’re in an industry like this for that long, one of two things happens. Either you become one of those crazy people who snorts kelp up their nose five times a day, or you learn how to tell when someone’s lying to you.” He let the chair drop forward onto its front legs. “I don’t like kelp.”
She fought the urge to bite her lip. Dang it, did he have to be funny on top of it all?
“Basically,” he continued, “there’s only one thing I do better than play guitar and that’s know when someone’s lying to me. So why don’t we start over and you tell me exactly why you have a problem with me.”
Three
His blunt honesty knocked the wind out of her. What was she supposed to do with that?
It’s not like she could say, “Hey, I think you’re really dreamy. Oh, and it kind of pisses me off.” Or even worse, “I’m woefully underqualified for this job. I’m barely keeping my head above water here and if you knew how close I was to drowning, you’d get me fired.”
Instead, she decided the easiest way to show him where she was coming from was to tell him a story of her own. “I was twelve when my parents moved here from L.A. Even though it’s only an hour and a half away, there’s a world of difference. My father accepted a job as the Worths’ gardener. My mother as their housekeeper. I grew up above the Worths’ garage. We may have been the hired help, but they never treated us that way.”
He was studying her, elbows propped on his knees, expression intense. Under his gaze, her breath seemed to catch in her chest. It was disconcerting to have him watching her so closely.
She was used to dealing with stars who only cared about your opinion when you were talking about them. But Ward seemed to actually be listening to her. Just like he’d listened to her staff during the brainstorming session.
Suddenly, the room felt tight and small. Like he simply took up too much space. She inched forward to shove her feet back into her shoes, then stood and nodded toward the door. “I’m going to go clean up the conference room. If you want to keep talking, come along. But if we leave that fruit out much longer, it’ll go bad.”
She knew he’d follow her, of course. It seemed like Ward rarely did what she wished he would. As they walked down the hall, she continued talking.
“I know it sounds like I’m just telling you my life story. But you have to understand, moving here from L.A., it saved my family. Not just my immediate family, but everyone. Once we moved here, aunts and uncles followed.”
His gaze narrowed slightly, obviously considering her words, but not yet fully understanding. How could he?
She turned to face him fully. “It may sound cheesy and cliché, but Vista del Mar is a special place. It’s not perfect. Sure we have our problems, but we also stick together. And we take care of our own. It was the perfect community to grow up in. To raise a family. At least it used to be. But now that Rafe Cameron has returned and bought Worth Industries…” She let her voice trail off as she realized how that sounded.
Ward must have keyed in on her tone of voice. “Can I assume you don’t wholly approve of Rafe?”
She ducked away from his appraising stare and studied the conference room. The detritus of their brainstorming session remained scattered throughout the room. She busied herself first with finding the lid to the fruit tray.
“I don’t want to speak badly of him.” She positioned the plastic lid in place and snapped it on with precise movements. “He’s your friend.”
Ward obviously didn’t share her sudden need for busyness. Instead, he lowered himself to the conference chair at the head of the table and stretched his legs out in front of him. “He’s also your boss.”
There was a subtle edge to Ward’s voice. A word of warning, perhaps.
Okay. So that’s where the line was drawn. Good to know.
She nodded brusquely, ready to turn her attention to the muffin tray. There was only one muffin left. Banana nut chocolate. Her favorite. She left it out on the tray. She might need a healthy dose of chocolate later.
“Don’t get me wrong, I certainly appreciate all he’s doing with Hannah’s Hope.”
“Glad you appreciate the millions of dollars he’s committed to pouring into the community,” Ward said wryly.
Ostensibly, Rafe was head of the board of directors for Hannah’s Hope. But as far as she could tell, he wasn’t very invested in its success. He’d plopped Ward onto the board to be the face of the charity and then added in Emma, at Ronald Worth’s request. Plus, Emma was universally loved. So having her on the board buttered up the local community. Emma, who’d long been involved in other charities, certainly had the experience and the town’s goodwill, but Ana couldn’t shake the feeling that Rafe had included Emma solely to give the illusion of continuity between the Worth Industries that had been and the new regime to come.
Still, people in town were nervous. People who’d been at Worth Industries for years had been let go or were taking early retirement. Rumor had it, Rafe was bringing in his PR expert, Max Preston. Ana couldn’t help feeling suspicious about why a PR expert was needed.
She ignored Ward’s subtle dig and continued talking. “Since I’ve been back, I’ve noticed the whole feel of the town has changed. People are nervous. Worried. If Rafe closes down the factory, it would be disastrous for Vista del Mar.”
“I’m aware of that. But none of that has anything to do with Hannah’s Hope.”
“Of course it does. I could be more efficient at my job if Rafe were more involved.”
Ward frowned, not in an annoyed way, but more as if he was figuring out if he could help. “Involved how?”
“Just more involved.” She cleared away the last of the snack plates and grabbed a napkin with which to wipe down the table. “I’ve met the man precisely once and only for a handful of minutes when Emma brought me down for my official interview.” She resisted making air quotes around the word interview, but was unable to keep the disdain from her voice. Instead, she swiped the last of the crumbs into her waiting palm.
Her entire interview had consisted of waiting for over an hour, only to be led into his office, have him give her the once-over and return his attention to the laptop open in front of him. “Emma thinks you’ll do a good job. Don’t disappoint her.”
That had been the entire interview.
She dusted the crumbs off her palm and into the trash. There. That was better.