Teaching The Boss

Chapter Seven

Sam glared up at the shining copper skyscraper. A tourist next to him pulled out his cell phone, and the loud click of the camera made Sam's scowl deepen. God, he hated this place.

Not wanting to stare at the towering symbol of his father's success any longer, he moved past the gawkers and into the building. He strode right past the security desk, but a burly man stepped out from behind the marble counters before Sam got far.

"Can I help you sir?" asked the guard.

Sam frowned. He'd been to a lot of offices in the city and a good eighty percent of the time if he walked confidently enough, the guard would let him through, no questions asked. "I'm here to see Donald Hunt." He knew full well what the response would be.

"Is he expecting you?" asked the guard, not showing even a hint of disbelief.

"No. I came here to tell him he's an asshole and didn't want to ruin the surprise."

That at least got a grin out of the beefy guy. "As much as I'd love to watch that, I'm afraid you need an appointment to get in."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think of anyone he could call to let him in. Of course, the only person who came to mind was the entire reason he was there to begin with.

"Can you call April Morgan? She'll vouch for me."

The guard frowned down at Sam. "The sweet, new one?"

Sam groaned. "Yeah. The sweet one."

"Hold on a minute." The man moved back behind his counter and dialed some numbers into his phone. "April? Hey, it's Bowie! Yeah, I'm doin' great. How about you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. She really had everyone wrapped around her finger.

"The kids are loving this weather. We're hoping to get out of the city this weekend," said the guard.

Not having any desire to hear this guy's life story, Sam not so subtly cleared his throat.

The guard didn't seem too agitated. "April, there's a guy down here who wants to talk to you." He paused for a few seconds as though listening and then pulled away from the receiver. "What's your name again?" he asked.

"Sam Hunt."

The guard remained nonplussed. "He says he's Sam Hunt. Is that not a good thing? Okay. See you in a few." He hung up the phone.

"She didn't vouch for me?"

"She knows you," he said. "Just didn't sound happy about it."

"Sounds right," mumbled Sam as he leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. Maybe this was a bad idea. He wasn't sure he was ready to face April again after their disastrous meeting at the Jude Foundation gala.

Well, this was her own fault. She had to have known that by going to work for his father she'd have to get in the middle of this shit. She'd really brought all this on herself.

The elevator chimed and a second later, the click-clack of heels signaled a woman's arrival. Sam stood up straight, trying to prepare himself as best he could. Only to see a stranger walk past him and to the door.

"Sam, what on earth are you doing here?"

He turned and came face to face with April. Where the hell had she come from? "I'm here to talk to my father. Is that a problem?"

She looked him up and down. "You tell me. Are you going to make it a problem?"

God, she looked good. It was one of the rare days she wore pants, but they hugged the slight curve of her hips in exactly the right way. He pulled himself from that train of thought. "If I have my way, I hope to cause many problems. That's kind of why I'm here."

April set her hands on her hips. "Then you can't come up."

He straightened, made himself as tall as possible. "He's my father. You can't keep me from seeing him."

"I can't keep you from doing anything. Bowie over there would love to keep you from seeing your father." She pointed to the large man behind her.

Sam eyed the guard warily. "All I'm going to do is talk to him in a possibly raised voice. Now take me up, April."

Even with him trying his hardest to look daunting, April didn't appear fazed. "No. I'm sick of doing whatever you tell me to. If you want to get up there, you'll have to find another way. Now I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you're busy as well."

She started to leave, but Sam's hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist.

"Hey," warned Bowie as he stepped forward.

April waved him away. "It's fine. Sam just doesn't know how to handle life when it doesn't go his way."

Sam started to roll his eyes, but stopped himself. He didn't like it when things didn't go his way, and he wasn't about to apologize for it. He leaned closer, not wanting Bowie to overhear. "Do you really think I've been handed everything on a silver platter?"

"Of course not. I was right with you through the late nights, tough meetings, sales that fell through. I know you're a hard worker. That being said, you're a sore ass loser and it's about time someone told you."

He wanted to argue, but nothing came out. He was expecting the same angry April from the weekend. Not the level-headed woman who seemed to see right into his soul. "What happened to you being pissed at me?"

April frowned. "Why on earth would you think I'm not still pissed?"

His brows drew together. "But you just said..."

"That you're good at your job? Of course you are. Your dedication is one of my favorite things about you. It's your hard head and single-mindedness that drive me insane."

Suddenly all his anger seemed to dissipate as he stared into her dark eyes. "Damn it, I came in here ready to raise hell. Now what?"

She twisted her wrist, and he released his grip. But instead of pulling away, she set her hand over his. "Call your father. Keep business at work and your personal life outside the office."

He knew she wasn't just talking about his father and him. Even if he wanted her back at work—his work—things had changed. He could never put April back into that platonic mental box he'd stored her in for the past six years. Something was between them that he'd never allowed himself to dwell on before...some spark that would ignite every time they were together. There was no going back to normal for them, and she obviously wasn't open to seeing him in any romantic way. She'd made that clear at the fundraiser.

He let out a sigh. "Tell Donald I stopped by, and I expect a call."

"I will. Take care, Sam." She removed her hand from his.

He took a few seconds to soak in her concerned expression. He wasn't a fan of pity, but it was much nicer than the image he'd had of their screaming match burned into his mind. At least with this memory, he could believe that one day, possibly, there was hope for them.