He frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, because…I don’t know. Maybe because you’re just standing there looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head.”
“Sorry.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You just…surprise me is all.”
“Oh. Well…” Wait, did he just compliment her? A curious tingle heated her cheeks. “I hope that’s a good thing?”
He paused before answering, as if considering her question. Then at last he said quietly, “I’m not sure.”
Abruptly he turned toward the stairs and went up. Carla dutifully followed behind, shaking her head. The man confounded her like no one she’d ever met. Quinn greeted her inside and immediately made her feel welcome. His burly frame, solid as a sea captain’s, offered sharp contrast to Jackson’s athletic physique. Quinn had pale blue eyes that twinkled as he greeted her, and a cloud of unruly salt and pepper hair swirling about his head. His warm smile came quickly and often. Something else, Carla noted, very different from Jackson.
“Come on in here,” Quinn said, after Jackson had left. He directed her to an area chock full of humming computers. “This is the data room,” he explained. “It’s where our mainframe computers are housed. In the back we have storage cabinets where there are actual hard copies of original documents. Of course we also have them scanned and stored on the mainframe, but Jackson likes keeping the originals as well.”
Quinn held out an arm, indicting the direction they were headed. “For all of his extensive education and intelligence, I personally think Jackson harbors a slight suspicion about the reliability of computers. He knows everything is backed up and stored but, for some things, nothing less than a hard copy will do.” Quinn opened a door and indicated Carla should step inside. Lining both walls in every available inch of space were rows and rows of storage cabinets.
“I take it this is the filing area,” Carla said. “Right you are. Everything is labeled and in its exact place. Jackson demands perfection when it comes to these files. As he points out, it’s worthless to keep anything if you can’t find it when you need it.”
“True enough.”
“At the end of this room is a desk and some stacks of papers,” Quinn said, walking toward the area he meant. “I’m afraid this is where you’re going to get started. Filing papers.”
Carla looked around. “That’s no problem.” She felt oddly compelled to reassure Quinn she didn’t mind her assignment. He seemed so apologetic. “I’ve spent plenty of time doing that in my own office.”
The desk was a basic, utilitarian office desk with drawers on either side and a chair in the middle. But stacked all across the top of it, in several tall but neat piles, were the papers to be filed. Now she understood why Quinn had seemed so sheepish. There must have been over a thousand pieces of paper atop the desk.
“We’ve fallen a little behind in our filing,” Quinn said.
“Just a little.”
“Well, we do have a lot—”
Carla stopped with him a smile and a wave of her hand.
“I’m only teasing. I know you all have more important things to do than file papers.” She pulled out the chair and sat down. “Besides, at least this keeps me away from the snakes.”
Quinn’s forehead wrinkled with surprise. “You don’t like snakes?”
“I’m afraid of them. That’s actually why I’m here. This month-long assignment is supposed to force me to deal with something I’m afraid of. And snakes are it.”
At that Quinn let out a hearty belly laugh. “Shoot,” he said, when he’d recovered enough from his mirth in order to talk. “If I were you, I’d turn around and ask for a different assignment. You’re not going to get away from snakes around here.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the point.”
“Well, okay then. Let’s get started.”
Quinn showed her what to do and she got to work.
Five hours later, with stomach growling and back aching, she’d made a significant dent in the pile. A glance at her watch showed the time as just after one. No wonder she was starving.
Stepping outside felt like entering an oven, and the humidity had skyrocketed. She blew at stray pieces of hair prying themselves loose from her ponytail and hanging limp against her forehead. She regretted today’s outfit, especially knowing she’d packed shorts and light skirts. But an old nemesis — vanity — had steered her toward the flattering black jeans.
Slapping at a horse fly buzzing around her face as she walked to the caf, Carla let out a small breath of exasperation. The truth was, she felt self-conscious around Jackson and was very aware what she wore today had a slimming effect on her hips. And the long-sleeved blouse? Well, the jiggly bits of her underarms were concealed a little better, that’s all. She rolled her eyes. Keep your focus on Paris, you dope, not on your new boss. Still, the outfit made her feel good, and maybe that’s what really mattered.
She reached the doors to the caf, greeted by the heavenly smell of cayenne pepper and garlic. Her stomach let out a hearty growl in response.
She looked around the caf, but it had mostly cleared out. It seemed as if nearly everyone had already eaten lunch. Everyone, that is, aside from Jackson.