Clear as Glass

chairs. The large room looked like an exclusive art gallery. Colorful abstract paintings hung on the brick walls. Gleaming ductwork crisscrossed the vaulted ceiling in a perfect display of industrial chic. Well-lit shelving displayed various styles of stemware. The glass sparkled like it was dipped in diamonds. Very impressive.
The only thing marring the ambiance was a low-pitched roar. Jaye crinkled her nose at Mitch. “Do you have a fire-breathing dragon hidden in your factory?”
He glanced at the door toward the back of the lobby and rubbed the back of his neck. “We keep the dragon in the studio. He eats consultants for breakfast. I can’t introduce you, yet.” He jabbed a thumb toward a carpeted hallway. “My father wants to meet you first.”
“Does your father feed the dragon?”
“No.” He bracketed his hands on lean hips. “Taking care of the dragon is my job.”
Jaye gave a respectful nod. “I’ll remember that.”
Beneath the dark brim of his hat, blue eyes searched hers. “If you do, you’ll be the first consultant who paid attention to anything I said.”
“Count on it.” She headed toward the corridor. Mitch’s work boots thudded behind her, and she imagined his gaze drilling between her shoulder blades. The center of her back burned. Stopping at a door adorned with Nick Blake’s name, she raised her hand to knock.
“Hold on. I’ve got this.” Mitch reached around her.
His arm brushed hers and the brief contact ignited a ribbon of goose bumps under her blouse. She stepped back, landed on his foot, and stumbled.
“Whoa.” He gripped her waist, steadying her.
Heat burst into her face. “Did I hurt your foot?”
“No. You okay?”
“Yes, but sometimes I can be a bit klutzy.” She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”
The door swung open, revealing a less bulky version of Mitch, with dark hair and a ready smile. “You must be Jaye. I’m Nick Blake.”
“Uh, yes. Hello.” She shook his hand, aware of Mitch’s touch drifting off her waist.
“I’m sorry about the confusion over your living arrangements.” Nick waved her into his office. “When I asked Mitch to put you up, I never thought to ask if you were a woman. Rest assured, there’s no confusion about where you’ll work. Your office is right across the hall.” The corners of Nick’s eyes crinkled. “I can’t wait to see your design for our website. As soon as we’re online, our company will reach customers all over the world.”
Mitch approached his father. “Before we conquer the Internet, I’d like a word with you.”
The sober pronouncement doused Nick’s smile like a wet blanket thrown over a cheerful campfire. “I can’t talk now. I’ve got to get the boys to their dental appointment.”
Mitch pointed to a red folder in Nick’s inbox. “Have you read my report yet? There are a number of things to consider before we develop a virtual marketing plan.”
Nick didn’t meet his son’s gaze. “I’ve considered everything.”
“Right.” Mitch took off his hat and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.
With a jolt, Jaye realized his gruffness might’ve been spurred by the anticipation of this confrontation with his father.
Nick sought Jaye’s gaze. “I’ll take you out to lunch. We’ll talk then.”
“Sure.” She placed her briefcase on the floor, directly in the path of Nick’s escape route. “Can Mitch join us? I’d like to hear his perspective, too. He’s your partner, after all.”
Her request had an interesting effect. Nick’s mouth hung open and Mitch’s gaze jerked to her. She smoothed her expression, calm as the sphinx in a raging dust storm.
Nick scowled at his son. “Are you on target to reach quota for this month?”
Mitch set the baseball cap back on his head. “Not yet.”
“Then we’ll catch you another day when the studio can afford to miss you.” Nick slid his arms into the sleeves of his coat. “Sorry, Jaye. We’ve got to manufacture enough pieces to meet our orders, and Mitch needs to be in the studio to reach those goals.”
Something was going on between these two men that had nothing to do with quotas. Jaye cleared her throat. “I doubt Blake Glassware will fall to pieces if Mitch takes an hour off for lunch.”
Mitch folded his substantial arms over his chest and glared at the unread report in his father’s inbox. “Count me out. I’d rather work over lunch.”
“See you at noon, Jaye.” Nick walked out of the office without acknowledging his son.
The snub was a bad sign. The rift between father and son was wide. She shot a curious gaze at Mitch. “Would you give me a tour of the factory? Along the way, you can tell me what direction you’d like Blake Glassware to take in the next few years.”
He rolled his eyes. “Discussing the future would be a waste of time.”
The toneless indifference in his voice disturbed her. “I don’t understand why you think laying the groundwork for your business’s future is a waste. Does your father own the controlling interest in the factory?”
“No. We have equal shares.”
“Then you have just as much say in the future of this company as he does.” Not waiting for him to contradict her, she strode across the hall to her new office. Even though the room was small, the old metal desk had plenty of space for her laptop, along with a roomy drawer to stow her camera case.
Mitch appeared in her doorway and shook his head. “Two days ago, this was the broom closet.”
“This is luxurious compared to what I normally get. At least, I have a view of the meadow through the window.” Her cell phone chimed. “Sorry, I should check this message. I’ve been waiting to hear from my real estate agent.” She felt guilty for interrupting the conversation to respond to a text, but Mitch didn’t seem to mind. Sliding the sleek cell phone out of her jacket pocket, she glanced at the screen.
Your condo is officially on the market. I put the 4 sale sign up this morning. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your Dad or