The Billionaire's Heart: The Complete Series (Romance, Contemporary Romance, Billionaire Romance, The Billionaire's Heart Book 7) Read online

  After cashiering for almost an hour, Nate took me to the customer service desk. This is where we would sell things like tobacco, money orders and Western Union wire transfers. A cashier had to be over twenty-one to work this counter, and each one, including me, had a special password that would give us access to this one terminal, only, and we each were cautioned never to let anyone else know or use ours under any circumstances. So far, only Donna and I had been given our access to it.

  By then it was nearly four o'clock, but as Nate had said, we were going to work late. We moved on to doing tobacco inventory, which was an entire project in itself. It meant counting every pack, box or can on the shelves by hand, as well as every case and carton in the warehouse, entering the totals on a sheet of paper and then transferring the figures to the computer before faxing the sheets to the main office in California. This also involved calculating the tobacco taxes to be paid to the state, but that was a simple matter of telling the computer to do it, thank goodness!

  We broke for dinner, then, and went together to the burger shop to get a bite. Again, we sat and talked about non-business things for a little while, but soon it was time to get back to the job.

  Nate took me through several other things after dinner, and I finally got out of the store at a little after ten PM. It had been a long day, but a very productive one. I was tired, but more sure than ever that I could do this job and do it well. As I drove home, I was looking forward to my second day in this exciting new position!

  Chapter 3

  Getting Into the Swing

  * * * * *

  The next morning saw me arriving early again, and Nate was already there and waiting for me. We spent most of it in the office, going over the paperwork I'd be responsible for. There were about three dozen different reports; some of them had to be done daily, while others were only weekly or monthly, but the computer made all of them fairly easy. When I chose a topic and told the computer to generate a report, all I had to do was scan through and make sure I'd gotten all of the relevant data in place, and then I could save it and send it off.

  These were the days of my life for a while. I went in before six every morning, spent a long day with one of the most attractive men I'd ever met, learned more about the retail industry than I ever thought I could possibly know, then went home around ten-thirty to fall into my bed and watch figures and bottles of dish soap or soda pop float around inside my head! If it weren't for the fact that this would be a career-beginning position and lead to opportunities to advance within the company, I might have collapsed, but the chance to make this job my own (and to see Nate again every day) made me roll out of bed every morning and force myself into the shower.

  My only day off was Sunday, but I was instructed to keep my cell phone on me, even in church, so that the lead cashier could call me in if necessary. And even though Nate was the official manager for now, if he got called in, so did I. The training might be hard, sometimes even brutal, but I was beginning to understand how Nate's Dad had made such a success of his company; he was a perfectionist, and if I wanted to earn my position, I had to become one too.

  That's where my independent streak came to my aid. Being someone who always wanted the best grades, the most perfect project, and control over the work even in group projects, I had never gotten into the habit of counting on anyone else to get my job done for me. Instead, I was soon going behind every employee and checking to make sure theirs was done, often finishing some part of it myself in order to make sure it was done to Nate's and Carolyn's satisfaction. The long hours meant that I had twice as much time to learn my job than anyone else did, and it paid off; by the middle of the second week, Nate was only rarely correcting me in what I was doing.

  That's when things started to get really interesting; Nate began showing me how to handle the employees. Whenever one of them had a problem, or there was a reason for disciplinary action, he would have me call them in to discuss it, and usually stayed silent. I was able to salvage one woman who was on the verge of quitting by suggesting a change in her schedule, and actually had to fire one of the men for drinking on the job. That one made me feel bad, but because the company had a “No Tolerance” policy on drugs and alcohol, I had to follow the rules. Only one chance, and then you’re gone! I made sure everyone else knew why I had let him go, not to gossip or belittle him, but to let them all know that I would do whatever I had to do, and that I expected everyone to obey the company's policies to the letter.

  That particular evening, when dinner time rolled around, Nate asked me if I was sick of the burgers from next door yet, and I admitted that I had never been all that fond of them. “Clock out,” he said, “and meet me out back. Let's go get some real food.”

  I did so, and met him at his car— a rental, I figured, but it was a Cadillac. He held the passenger door for me, and got behind the wheel.

  “I found this place when I came here a few months ago, scouting the site for the store, and I've been wanting to get back to it. We’ve been so busy I didn't want to run out on you, so I decided to take you along. And don't worry, it's my treat.”

  We drove down the street and across town, and I probably raised my eyebrows when he started to turn in at the Quality Inn Motel, but he immediately turned again towards the attached restaurant. It was the Canteen Grille, a popular local eatery that I’d been to often with my folks. I let my eyebrows fall back into place, and mentally chided myself for assuming that Nate might be thinking of a different kind of dinner than I'd had in mind. He'd never been anything but a gentleman, and it was wrong of me to jump to that conclusion.

  Once again, we had a nice dinner and sat and talked. It seemed I learned something new about him every time, and I tried to give as good as I got, but there just wasn't that much about me that was interesting. Oh, I had a few comical stories from my college days, and I made him laugh with some of the tales about me and Corie when we were kids, but they were nothing compared to his own stories about growing up. And I had been right in my very first impression, too— he'd spent four years in the Marine Corps, just as my Dad had done, and he'd actually seen combat; Dad had served in the JAG office, and the closest he got to battle was when he was defending some poor leatherneck in a court-martial.

  Thus began what became a tradition; from then on, every other evening's dinner time was spent at a different local restaurant. Of course, in a town as small as North Platte, there aren't a lot of them, so some of them saw us more than once, but you get the idea.

  It was all business, though, even though we left shop talk at the office. There was no flirting going on, nothing anyone could point at, and we were always careful to make sure no one could think we were going anywhere but out to eat. Small towns are hotbeds of gossip, and neither of us needed anyone taking things out of context and starting rumors.

  During the hours at the store, I was still learning, although Nate told me more than once that I was the fastest study he'd seen yet, and he actually felt that I could have taken over the store after only the first three weeks. I was flattered, and wondered if he might cut my training short, but he didn't show any sign of wanting to leave, so I never asked.

  I was feeling pretty confident, myself. By this time, I was doing all of the inventory and supply ordering on my own, and if you ever want to tackle a job that will drive you nuts, that's the one. I had to generate a daily inventory order to replenish the items we'd sold, a separate order for tobacco products and a third for supplies like paperwork forms, floor waxes and the like. The computer would actually create the orders for me, but it was my responsibility to go over each one before sending it off to the distribution center.

  In fact, I handled most of the daily chores on my own, with only occasional questions or input from Nate, and the rest of the employees seemed to like and respect me. None of them were shy about asking me their own questions, and I noticed that even if I didn't know the answer, Nate would not speak up unless I asked him to; I'm sure that reinforced their confi
dence in me, as well, and I was grateful for it.

  I got to learn some things the hard way, by actually dealing with them. For example, I dealt with Donna’s occasional emergencies, times when one of her kids would get hurt or sick, and the time when her oldest boy got into trouble at school and she had to go there immediately. Both of them had asthma and some other health conditions, so her need to go and take care of them fell under the company's “Family First” policy. It made me feel good when I could tell her to go, and step in and do her job until she got back or someone else could come in to take her place.

  When my daily cash reports began to be off, Nate left it to me to figure out who was taking money from the register. It appeared, at first glance, to be one cashier, but that was Candy, a girl I'd known since grade school, and my gut said there was something funny going on. I thought about it overnight, then went in an hour early the next morning and carefully aimed one of the security cameras directly at her register.

  I didn't get a chance to look at the tapes until the next day, but my idea had paid off; the camera caught another girl, Marcia, stepping up to her register when she was on a break, typing in a code and then opening the drawer and removing ten dollars. Somehow she'd gotten Candy's log on ID code, so the computer thought she was back and continued recording as if it were still her on duty.

  Marcia was working that morning, running her own register. I called the police, filed a report and then watched as Marcia was arrested and taken from the building. That required me to explain to everyone present what had happened, and I stressed the necessity of keeping codes and passwords a secret. Candy and several others made a point of thanking me for being diligent enough to prove that Candy was not the thief, and it made me feel good. Nate pointed out that it also gained me some serious respect, which was always a good thing.

  When a break-in alarm went off at three am one morning, the police did their job and called me, but somehow missed calling Nate, so by the time I got there and found that out, it was left to me to handle the situation alone. I did call him, of course, and he got there within twenty minutes, but by then the cops had taken all their photos and done their preliminary investigation, and so we both just decided to stay and work the rest of the day. I was really exhausted that night!

  The worst thing, though, was when one of our employees was killed in a car accident one evening on her way home from work. Her name was Brenda; I had grown up with her, and since we started working together we'd begun to rekindle the old friendship we'd had in grade school,. She accidentally turned her car in front of a semi, and by the time the ambulance got there it was too late to do any good. Someone who knew she worked for us had come in moments later and told us that they'd recognized her car in the accident and seen a body lying on the road under a sheet, and the entire crew just fell apart.

  I wanted to sit down and cry, myself, but there were customers in the store so I had to hold myself and everyone else together. Nate stood back and let me handle it, since he was from out of town and most of us had known each other for years, and in retrospect, I have to admit it was the right thing for him to do. I had to speak sharply to a couple of the girls to keep them from caving in, but they did okay after a couple of moments.

  It was after that incident, five weeks into my training, that Nate told me he was letting me take over. I was ready, he said, and it was time for me to “spread my wings and fly.”

  I panicked, but not because I had to take all the responsibility onto myself; I panicked because it suddenly hit me that when my training was over, Nate would have no more reason to hang around this stuffy little town, and I'd probably never see him again.

  I need you to understand, dear reader, that until that moment I had not even considered the possibility that I was falling in love. Nate and I had never flirted with each other, never attempted any insinuations about “getting together,” never discussed anything remotely like romance; heck, we hadn't even mentioned whether we had significant others.

  Had I entertained a fantasy or three? Come on, I'm human; what girl could meet a rich, gorgeous guy and not let herself daydream a bit? Of course I had, but in none of them did it go further than a date! I can remember that most of them ended in a tearful farewell at the Denver airport, after I would drive him there to catch his flight home. They were the same kind of daydreams I'd had about Bobby Merkle in the eighth grade.

  But it hit me with full force when Nate said I was ready. I'd thought I had another six or seven weeks to be around him almost every day, but if he was ending my training, then he'd be leaving and I'd be staying and we would likely never meet again.

  Wait, what did he say?

  “...so I'll be sitting back and watching you for the rest of your training. Don't worry, I won't let you get into trouble, but I'll be your acting assistant manager, for now, and you'll take lead.”

  He won't be leaving just yet, I thought. I've still got the rest of my training period with him. Now, the question is, how do I get him to feel the same way about me that I feel about him?

  Chapter 4

  Operation Nate and KK

  * * * * *

  The next day was Sunday, and I was off, so after church I grabbed Corie and we went out to lunch. For us, that always meant grabbing burgers, fries and drinks, and sitting in my car to talk.

  “So, what you're telling me is that you're in love with probably the richest guy you've ever met or probably ever will, right?” Corie can go straight to the point like no one else I know.

  “Yeah. And it sucks, cause it's not like he'd ever notice, and I'm pretty sure he's probably got more girlfriends than he can deal with, which would mean that, at best, I'd end up being a 'one of' instead of a 'one and only,' and I couldn’t handle that.”

  She nodded her sympathy. “He hasn't even acted interested, right?”

  I shrugged. “I've noticed him looking me over a few times, and I know he likes to walk behind me, so I'm pretty sure he's watching me walk,” I said. “But I get that from lots of guys, even old, married ones; it comes with being born a female.”

  “Uh-huh. But he hasn't tried to hold your hand, or found an excuse to lean over you so he's almost got his arms around you?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Nada.”

  She sighed, and I echoed it. There I was, in an absolutely hopeless situation, and I couldn't imagine any solution that didn't involve finding some way to forget about the most wonderful man I'd ever met.

  “There's only one thing to do, then,” Corie said. “How long is it before he leaves?”

  I shrugged again. “If he sticks it out the whole time, about seven more weeks. But he might decide to leave at any time, I just don't know. If he really thinks I'm ready to handle it, then he could leave tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “Then it's time we get busy, girl, cause you don't have any extra minutes to waste. If he isn't already married or engaged, then he hasn't found the right girl yet, so it's our mission to let him know that you are that right girl!”

  I stared at her. “You honestly think we can make him think I'm the girl for him? Are you outta your ever-loving mind?”

  “Nope, far from it! Operation Nate and KK is hereby commissioned! That boy's never gonna know what hit him!”

  She pushed and prodded me until I agreed that it was at least worth a try, and for once, I was glad to have someone else figure out the next moves. We tossed our trash and drove to the mall; our purpose was to buy me some new work clothes that were more in tune with current fashion trends than my old college outfits, and maybe fit me a little better. I'd had a final growth spurt since college began, and I was a bit thinner, too; I needed clothes that fit my current figure.

  We hit Rue 21 first, and I tried on about forty different outfits. I liked wearing skirts to work, and found some that Corie said made me look hot, and a number of tops and jackets to accentuate them. JC Penney let me add a few more, and I found some pantsuits that definitely showed off my assets.

  Then it was
a trip to the only hair salon that was open on Sunday. Since I was working so many hours, I'd been just keeping my hair clean and making sure it was brushed neatly each day, but this mission called for some serious styling. I have long, luscious dark hair, and by the time the stylist was through, it was a fantastic waterfall of curls and waves that had me getting attention from everyone we passed.

  Some new shoes made me feel just a bit taller; they didn't really have a heel to them, but the soles were thicker at the back, so it did have a shaping effect on my calves, and I could admit that it looked good in the mirror. I added L'eggs in various shades, just to enhance those calves a bit more.

  We finished up our shopping excursion around five, and I went home to get a bath, one I could soak in for a couple of hours. The hot water would help me wash away some of the tension I was feeling, and I'd get a good night's sleep, which was going to be necessary for Phase Two.

  Phase Two involved getting up at four a.m. instead of five, so that I'd have plenty of time to put on the new makeup I'd bought at Claire's the day before. I spent most of an hour making sure that I got it on so perfectly that it didn't look like I was wearing any at all. Anyone who didn't know that I had a few freckles would have simply thought I must have the clearest skin they'd ever seen, with a natural blush to my cheeks and some of the most beautiful eyelashes ever.

  I dressed in a skirt and blouse, added just the perfect belt and jacket and the black pair of shoes, and headed for work. I hoped to be there before Nate, who usually arrived at five-forty, and I made it. His car wasn't there when I pulled in and parked. I used my keys to open up the back door, started the coffee in the employee break room and went to the office to wait.