Love of Steele Read online

“You just haven’t met enough of them. Some of them have reputations reaching to the far corners of the state.” She smoothed the collar of her blouse down. “Mine go to the corner store and straight back home.”

  “Then they need to get out more.”

  When she first felt the little tickle at her ear, Marta thought it was just her hair, but when his fingers pulled out one of her long curls, Marta slapped him away, swerving on the road in the process.

  “What are you trying to do? Get us killed?” She shoved him back toward his seat. “Do that again and you’ll find your side mashed against a tree! Got it?”

  He raised his hands in defense. “Sorry! I thought the innuendo meant something. Won’t happen again.”

  “You bet it won’t!” Marta gripped the wheel and envisioned her fingers wrapped around his neck. “I’m beginning to think she had a really good reason for leaving you.”

  Stash clacked his tongue and settled back in the seat again. “Money. Pure and simple.”

  Chapter 2

  “Stash! Wake up. We’re here.” Marta jabbed him in the side with her cell phone. “Check to see if you can bring a street map up on this thing. It’s on the corner of Liberty and Main.”

  Stash tossed her cell phone down in the cup holder. “Make a left at the next light.”

  Marta raised a brow.

  “What?” he said. “I told you I’d passed it a few times.”

  She didn’t have time to argue and hoped her five minutes late didn’t cost her the job. “Oh, shit! Where do I park?”

  The meters lining the street in front of Elliot Enterprise were full.

  “You’ll never get a spot at this time of day.” Stash pointed to the curb. “Pull over in front of the building and get out. I’ll take your car and get some gas and come back in an hour or so to pick you up – right here – in this spot.”

  Marta’s jaw dropped. “You want me to just hand you my car? What if you take off and I never see you again?”

  Stash shrugged. “You’re insured, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s not the point. This thing’s paid off!”

  Stash tapped his wrist. “If I had a watch I’d refer to the time, but since I don’t I guess you’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

  Marta looked at Stash and then at the gleaming building rising up out of the middle of Port Hamilton. “You’re not gonna take off?”

  “And go where? You’re driving me to my next destination, remember? Besides,” he said, “the least I can do for you is fill your car up with gas. Get going – unless of course, you want to sit here arguing while your job is being given to the blonde bimbo who bothered to show up on time.”

  Marta shoved open the door. “You’d better be here waiting in exactly one hour, Stash Aaron Steele!” She pulled up her cell and snapped a quick picture. “Just in case I need to give a description to the police,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  Stash flashed his glorious smile and winked. “I guarantee you that you’ll delete that picture in exactly sixty-one minutes. By the way,” he said as she turned to walk away, “you’ve got more than just a massive personality.”

  Whether that was simply a sexist remark or tossed out to boost her confidence, she wasn’t sure. All Marta knew is that not only was she about to lose her meager breakfast at the thought of the interview, now she was also panting internally at the deluge of sexual tension. And to think that the day had started so benign.

  Marta punched the arrow on the elevator and waited. It didn’t take long for the brimming box to rise up and greet her. Packed full. Marta stepped back. She was more than happy to wait for the next one, but the lady in the front held the door and waved her in. Squeezing in proved difficult and she found herself plastered up against the guy behind her – and he was liking it.

  “What floor?” The exceptionally thin woman with an equally thin, nasally voice stared hard at Marta.

  “Twelve...I think.”

  The lady rolled her eyes and pushed the button. Floor twelve couldn’t come fast enough – for her or the guy who was poking her from three inches away. The second she stepped off of the elevator, something changed. The illustrious floor twelve was void of pretty fixtures and color. It was depressing, actually, with nothing but gray for as far as the eye could see. She was sure the sky had turned gray, too.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  Marta looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice. She noticed a speaker on the wall ten feet in front of her. Dummy, she thought. Hopefully they don’t have cameras installed to catch the entire goof in one place.

  “I’m here for an eleven o’clock interview with Mr. Elliot,” she said into the microphone. “I apologize if I’m a little late. Car trouble.”

  The door beside the speaker buzzed just long enough for Marta to grab the handle and push. What lay on the opposite side of the door was completely different from the stringent, gray décor of the waiting area. It was bright, sunny, and yellow with splashes of color scattered throughout the seating area. It was downright appealing even to a non-fashion girl.

  “Are you Marta?” The secretary, thin and shapely, eyed her up.

  “Yes.”

  “Come.” Miss Shapely led her off to a small conference room. It reminded Marta of the bland guidance counselor’s office back in high school. Its decorating budged had been sucked dry so the sports program could syphon more money from the pot. “Sit here, please.”

  Miss Shapely was no-nonsense multiplied by infinity. No smile, no chit chat, nothing. She swooped out of the room as quickly as she’d ushered Marta in. Ten minutes later, an older, quite distinguished gentleman popped his head into the room.

  “Are you Marta Manchester?”

  Marta stood up and he motioned for her to sit back down. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she began.

  “No, no, you’re fine,” he assured her. “I’m Rob, Mr. Elliot’s assistant.” He slipped in and shut the door behind him. “I’ve gone over your resume and I know that you’ve driven quite a long way to see us today, Ms. Manchester, but I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule your interview.”

  Chaos swirled in Marta’s head. “I’m sorry I was late,” she babbled. “My car broke down and a man stopped to help and-.”

  “Oh, no! It’s got nothing to do with you.” Rob smiled and handed Marta his business card. “We’ve just got a bit of bad news, is all, and we’re still trying to figure out where we’re going.”

  Marta sat back, the wind completely deflated from her sails. “Oh. Well, I hope everything works out for you. My expertise is marketing. Anything I could help with?”

  Rob shook his head. “Not this. Mr. Elliot’s grandson was killed in a car accident. They just notified us this morning.” He gathered up a pile of file folders lying on the table. “He was actually the one who was to interview you this morning.”

  Self-pity collided with sincerity. “I’m so sorry.”

  Rob held his hand out to Marta. “We just need a little time to reorganize.”

  Marta took this as her hint to leave. “Well,” she said, standing up and shaking his hand, “you’ll call me?”

  Rob opened the door and led her back into the sunny room that didn’t seem quite as bright as it had when she walked through the first time. “Definitely. We’ll call you when things settle down. Your resume looks good and we’re anxious to get things moving, but first we need to take care of a few things. You understand, I’m sure.”

  Yes. She did. When her grandmother died, her mom had to take six months off from work just to get her estate figured out. It was a mess.

  Marta climbed back into the elevator. Thankfully it wasn’t quite the sardine can that it had been on her ride up, though she probably wouldn’t have felt much of anything. She was numb with the prospect of actually having to go back home to the little patch town. It’s not that she didn’t love her family and her home, because she did. She just wanted more. The idea of facing the nasty Lincoln twins was enough t
o make her want to run for cover. They’d both married up and into money, and now they used their money to splash around town, buying up real estate and looking down their perfect, little noses at Marta and every other sap who still clung to the notion that a life could be made in the confines of the dying town. Marta bit down, nearly grinding away her new crown. She made up her mind right then and there that there was no going back.

  The smell of exhaust puffed in her face when she hit the sidewalk. Despite the surgeon general’s warnings, she breathed in the scent of the city. She loved it. Just the sounds and smells invigorated her and made her feel alive.

  “Oh, shit,” she said aloud. She’d forgotten that Stash wasn’t due back for a while. Pulling out her phone, Marta checked the time. Thirty-five more minutes. A devious little pull forced her to do something else. Not by her own choosing, of course. She flipped through the pictures and found the one of Stash. God he was good looking, grease and all! Marta quickly stuffed the phone back down into her bag, not wanting to go where she knew her pea brain was dragging her. Why wouldn’t that mental image of him get the hell out of her head?

  Marta spied a little park plunked between two buildings just across the street from Elliot Enterprises. It was obvious that a building once stood where the park was now located. It was an oasis in the middle of a sea of cement.

  The creak of the wrought iron gate cried out, revealing her trespass. No one seemed to care. As a matter of fact, the few people there didn’t even bother to look up. Most were in deep communion with their electronics and probably wouldn’t move even if lightning struck the ground at their feet.

  A little bench off in the corner had Marta’s name written all over it. The sunny patch on the seat felt warm and comfortable. Marta closed her eyes and envisioned herself working for Elliot Enterprises and using the park for her lunch hour. Marta felt the bench shift and opened her eyes just as a well-dressed young woman plunked down beside her.

  “Terrible, isn’t it?”

  Marta raised a brow. “Pardon me?”

  The stranger pointed to the building. “He was so young!”

  “Oh! Yes. Shame.” Marta surmised she must be talking about the younger Elliot.

  The woman adjusted her skirt and slipped out of her heels. “I hear he wrecked his Ferrari hot off the lot, but I guess that’s what happens when you drive like a maniac. He was always zipping in and out of here.” She cocked her head and eyed Marta up more thoroughly. “You’re new, right? I thought I saw you earlier this morning.”

  Marta nodded. “Um, yeah. Sort of. I’ve been put on hold until further notice. Were you in the office when I went in for my interview?”

  “Elevator,” she clarified. “I was packed in at your right elbow.”

  “Hmm. Good eye.”

  “That’s my job. I’m Beth,” she said, sticking out her bony little hand. “At least that’s what my friends call me. At the office I’m Elizabeth.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s an appearance thing with old man Elliot. No cutesy nicknames.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’m plain old Marta. Can’t really get a nickname outta that.”

  Beth smiled. “Nice to meet you, plain old Marta.”

  “How long have you worked here?” Marta eyed up the big building and fantasized which office window would be hers.

  “Six months. And I’m swamped. I was really hoping to get someone to help out, but now with this…I just don’t know how much longer I can work twelve hour days.”

  Marta dug down in her bag and pulled out a mini pen and a piece of paper. “If I give you my cell, could you keep me updated on things? You know. Maybe give me a heads up when things calm down around here. I don’t want to call and look like an insensitive jerk.”

  Beth folded the slip of paper and stuck it down in her cell phone case. “No problem. I can’t wait to make the call.”

  “What was he like? The younger Elliot, I mean? I’ve heard rumors that he wasn’t the nicest person around.”

  Beth looked up at the sky and mouthed a few words before leaning over closer to Marta. “You know what they say about speaking ill of the dead, but honestly, he was a complete asshole. Things were hard enough around here before he took over for his grandfather. He thought he was God’s gift to the poor, desperate women of the world, and he had no problem using his position to get what he wanted from them. He tried his shit on me the second day on the job, and it almost worked. He was smooth as silk and smoking hot – but he also had a bad temper and an ego to match. But, you won’t have to worry about that. Unfortunately…I guess.”

  “Which one’s yours?” Marta pointed to the glistening sheets of glass flashing in the sun.

  Beth laughed. “The one with the big, pink daisy decal. Mr. Elliot told me to take it down, but I never bothered. He was never around much after he semi-retired anyway. But now – well, he’ll probably be here a lot so I guess I’ll have to part with it.”

  “He sounds like a control freak.” For a split second, Marta began doubting her decision to apply to Elliot Enterprises. Until she remembered the starting salary, that is. “But, I’d be happy to have that problem as long as it came with a job.”

  “Yep. That’s why I’m still here, but don’t think I wouldn’t take an offer from Steele and Company if they actually picked up my resume and read it. I hear they’re a dream to work for, and from what I’ve been told, the owner’s young, hot, and available.”

  Marta stopped in mid thought. “Steele?”

  “Yeah,” Beth gushed. “Wouldn’t you just love to sport that surname?”

  “Hmm.” Marta’s mind went a million miles a minute. Surely it can’t be the same Steele who commandeered her van. She shoved that thought away. If he was the owner of a million dollar company, he wouldn’t be languishing along a road and covered in filth. Something, though, nagged at her. “First name?”

  Beth shrugged. “Don’t know. They incorporated as Steele and Company about three years ago. The only thing I know is his first initial is ‘A’.”

  Aaron…A. Pulling out her phone, Marta’s heart beat faster and she wasn’t sure if she should be hopeful or mortified. She handed her phone to Beth. “He doesn’t happen to look like this, does he?”

  Beth angled the phone away from the sunlight. “Um. Is he normally this furry?”

  Leaning over to peek at the phone, Marta let out a groan when she saw a picture of her cat, Butterball. “How in the hell did I do that? I must’ve deleted it.” She looked toward the street. “Shit. I hope he doesn’t steal my car. That picture was my only source of identification.”

  “If you thought he’d steal it, why did you let him drive? Is he your boyfriend or something?”

  “Or something.” How on earth could Marta possibly explain her completely irrational decision to pick up a hitchhiker and then drag him along with her to the biggest interview of her life? “His last name just happens to be Steele, and I was thinking if he was related, then maybe…you know. Job offer?”

  Beth bent down and shoved her feet back into the toe killers. “Well, if you happen to luck out and land a job with Steele and Company instead, don’t forget me.” She whipped out a business card. “My sanity will thank you.”

  “I’ll give it a shot. What can it hurt?” Marta squeezed Beth’s hand. “It was nice meeting you, and I hope we cross paths again – very soon!”

  A smile lit up Beth’s thin face. “You and me both, sister. Goodbye!”

  Marta watched Beth scurry back across the busy street, and kept watching until her black and white checked skirt disappeared into the hungry mouth of Elliot Enterprises. Deep in the fantasy of one day walking through those doors with Beth, Marta didn’t see her van eking into view. How long he sat there waiting, she didn’t know, but guessed it must have been several minutes. Gathering up her bag, Marta hurried back through the gardens and out the gate. The now familiar squeak seemed to invite her back, and Marta was optimistic that she’d do just that.

  Stash
waved and smiled from the driver’s side, waiting for Marta to slip between the barrage of cars coming down the one way street.

  “Well? How’d it go?” Stash made no effort to extract himself from behind the wheel, so Marta dashed around the other side and hopped in.

  “It didn’t,” she said, breathless from her jaunt across the street. “The guy I was supposed to interview with decided to up and get himself killed.”

  “What?”

  Marta nodded. “You heard it here, first. Mr. Elliot Junior, or whatever the heck his name is, was killed in a car crash early this morning, so the interview was a no-go. For now,” she added. “A guy named Rob told me my resume was good, so I think I still have a decent shot at the job. I just have to find something in the meantime to tide myself over until … they give me a call. Hey,” she said, tapping Stash’s arm. “Are you even listening?”

  Stash jerked to attention. “Yeah. I’m listening. I’m just wondering what we’re gonna do for money. With your thirty-two bucks and my six hundred, we won’t go far.”

  Marta laughed. “What’s this ‘we’ stuff?”

  A glint lit up Stash’s heavenly gray eyes. “Since I just spent seventy-two of my life savings filling up your tank, I kinda figured we’re co-owners of the van. Until the gas runs out, that is, and then we’re on our own again.”

  Marta scowled. “You never mentioned that when you offered to gas it up, Stash.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think about it until the gas spilled out the top. Besides,” he said. “You wouldn’t get very far on thirty-two dollars. I doubt you’d even get back home, so you kind of need me.”

  Marta yanked her seat belt and snapped it into place. “And you need my car, so I guess that makes us even.”

  Stash bristled. “Not really. I just thought I’d help you out.”

  “Liar.”

  Stash nosed the van out into traffic. “I’m not lying. You just seem different from other girls and I thought I’d be nice.”

  Marta’s jaw dropped. “You’re being nice to me by allowing me and my van to haul your ass around until the gas runs out? And you still wonder why girls eye up the rich guy? Ha! Take a good look in the mirror!”