TamingTara

Chapter Five

“How was your day?” Tyrone Lockhart greeted Joe with a smile that split his brown, weathered face.

How had his day been? Fucking unbelievable. He was eager to jump in, get his hands into the olives, so to speak. But Tara hated his guts and trying to tell her what she needed to do differently was going to be like WWE Smackdown. And that, strangely, was a huge turn-on for him. An image of him wrestling her down and covering her body with his…stop! Jesus.

The olive groves had been amazing. He couldn’t even describe how he’d felt there, in fact he was a little embarrassed to have been so strongly affected by the atmosphere in the groves.

Then there was the olive oil tasting. Oh man. Tara watching his mouth the whole time, heat clearly visible in her eyes. His brain had been instantly flooded with…sex. Sex with Tara. Hot, slippery, rolling-around-in-olive-oil sex.

“Interesting,” he finally replied to Tyrone in egregious understatement, slamming a door shut in his head on the nasty thoughts he was having about Tyrone’s granddaughter as he took a seat in front of Tyrone’s desk. “I’m actually surprised how fascinating this business is.”

And not just the business. He was fascinated by Tara Lockhart. Moody and complicated, intelligent and knowledgeable, strong and forceful, that passion and hint of submission simmering beneath the surface made her sexy as hell and kept causing his mind to wander away from business to thoughts of tying her up naked and paddling her sweet little ass.

That door in his head kept popping open. He had to slam it shut again.

“Great.” Tyrone walked around behind his desk, thankfully unaware of his dirty thoughts. The image of Tara in shiny black latex holding a flogger flashed into Joe’s mind. Christ, what would the old man think of that? He’d probably have a heart attack. “So, tell me your first impressions of the business.”

Joe thought back over the day. “It’s amazingly complicated.” He remembered with a twinge of embarrassment his sarcastic comment to Tara about the olive business. Jesus. What an idiot he was.

“Seeing the olive groves and the amount of knowledge needed to just grow the olives is overwhelming. You have a guy with a degree overseeing just that part of the business. Irrigation, propagation, ripeness, fertilizing, pruning…I haven’t got a hot clue about any of that stuff.”

Tyrone just nodded and smiled. “That’s okay,” he said. “What else?”

“Well, then the mill…it too is complex. Again, highly technical. The place looks like a laboratory. The equipment, the capital expenditures for that alone—wow. But that’s the kind of manufacturing environment I’m more familiar with.”

Again, Tyrone nodded.

“I learned a little about olives and oil and curing,” Joe said. “I guess what I mostly learned is how much I don’t know. The business things I understand—the costs of processing, packing, marketing, input output relationships—but oil extraction rates and net extraction recovery rates…uh-uh.” He smiled ruefully.

“What do you think about high density planting?” Tyrone asked.

Was this a test? High density planting was Tara’s pet project.

“I think we need to do a detailed cost-benefit analysis,” he answered. “I see a lot of advantages to it. To be competitive, it seems to me economies of scale in a few different areas is the answer. But there are some disadvantages to it that we would need to be clear on before we start spending money.”

Then Joe realized what he’d said. “Uh…when I say ‘we’…”

Tyrone laughed. “I’m happy to hear you talk like that. First day on the job and you’re already taking ownership of the company. I have to say, I wondered how committed you’d be to this job.”

“Well, to be honest, I did have some doubts. In fact, I still do.”

Tyrone raised his white brows. “Such as…?”

“I gotta ask…why am I here? Tara is obviously capable of running the show. She knows this business. I’ve never met someone with more passion for what they do and she has incredible vision.”

Tyrone sat back in his chair, frowning. “Yes, Tara is a visionary. She has ideas. But she’s a woman. She relies too much on her gut and not enough on careful business planning.”

Joe almost winced. Talk about politically incorrect. He couldn’t disagree with Tyrone’s opinion of Tara, but no way in hell would he ever be stupid enough to say it was a gender thing.

“I’ve worked hard over the years to get this company where it is and I don’t want to risk it all,” Tyrone continued. “And I’m getting too old to fight over things all the time. I want to make sure we have someone here who can keep things going when I’m gone.”

“But—”

Tyrone held up a hand. “I know. Tara thinks I’m stuck in the past, too traditional and conservative. But I know times are changing. This whole olive oil thing…who would have thought twenty years ago we could actually sell oil for fifty dollars a liter? Ha! That’s crazy!”

Joe smiled and nodded.

“But it’s selling. People are going crazy for good olive oil. People are tasting it like wine, for God’s sake.”

“My parents own a couple of Italian restaurants in San Francisco and, man, good olive oil is important to them.”

Tyrone shook his head. “So you know it too. Well, like I said, that’s the way the world is going. I’m not resistant to change, despite what Tara may think. But someone needs to make her stop for a moment, back up a bit, do her research, make the best business decision. When I try to tell her that, we just end up at each other’s throats.”

Joe nodded. “So that’s how you see my role here? Someone to balance Tara’s creativity with some careful business planning?”

“Exactly.” Tyrone beamed. “Although I’d really be happier if she were out of the business altogether.”

Joe tightened his jaw to keep his mouth from dropping open. “Why? She obviously loves the business.”

“It’s not a woman’s world,” Tyrone said, again startling Joe with his out-of-date attitude. “My son was supposed to run this business. Not his daughter.” A flash of pain darkened the old man’s eyes.

Joe struggled for words. It must’ve been hard to lose his son so young. “Well, it is a lot for one person,” he managed. “Even though you’re here, I see she’s taken on a hell of a lot. Probably more than she needs to.” He was pretty sure “delegation” wasn’t a word that existed in Tara’s vocabulary.

“You’re absolutely right. I’m glad you see that. Take some of the load off her. Let her have a life.”

“Uh…okay. But I’m not so sure she actually wants that.”

Tyrone scowled. “She doesn’t know what she wants. She should be doing what her sister is—charity work, hosting dinners for clients, looking pretty—not out getting dirty in the groves, trying to drum up business partnerships with people who don’t believe a woman can really know anything about olives.”

Well then. Joe rolled his lips in. Sitting at home looking pretty—nope, he couldn’t picture Tara going with that. He almost laughed. “She’s pissed off I’m here,” he said.

Tyrone nodded. “She’s mad at me, not you.”

Joe wasn’t so sure about that. Sure seemed like she was pissed as hell at him too. He still had that feeling of being squeezed from both sides and didn’t think it was going to get better. But again, he didn’t have much choice right now. He needed this job and he’d just have to try to make the best of it.

Guilt nudged him, though, at Tyrone’s statement that he wanted someone here to keep things going when he was gone. Joe would be long gone by the time that happened—his intention only to lay low for a while until he could go back to San Francisco and resume his career there.

He walked out of the building to the rear parking lot where he’d parked his car that morning. Christ, it seemed a lifetime ago after all that had happened today. He pulled out onto the side street, turned onto State Street and drove to his buddy’s place near the Mission.

Nick lived in a nice place a block off State Street, an older home he’d been renovating. He was already there, in the kitchen, slapping some ground beef into patties.

“Hey.” He looked up as Joe walked in the back door and grinned. “How was your first day on the job?”

Joe shook his head. “Strange. But interesting.”

“Wanna beer?”

“Hell yeah.” Joe strode over to the refrigerator and helped himself. He popped the top and took a long pull. “Ah. That’s good.” He leaned against the counter and watched Nick work. “What’re you making? Burgers?”

“Yeah. I thought we’d grill them. And I bought a salad at the deli.”

“Sounds good. What can I do?”

“Not a thing. Just relax and tell me about your day.”

Joe pondered that. “Well. The boss’s granddaughter is pissed off beyond belief I’m even there. And she’s hot as hell.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. He was almost as tall as Joe, leaner and rangier, with buzz-cut short, dark hair. “That makes it…awkward.”

“Yeah.” Joe shook his head. “She’s one angry woman.”

“What’s her problem?”

“Well.” Joe tipped the bottle to his mouth. “Apparently the old man doesn’t even want her there.” He shook his head, the tug of sympathy for Tara surprising him. “She’s brilliant. She’s telling me all this stuff she wants to do to expand the business, and it sounds like she knows what she’s talking about, but she tells me the old man doesn’t want to do it. Turns out he doesn’t think a woman can run the business. Must be tough—sounds like she’s trying to maybe fill in for her father, who died when she was fourteen and should have been the one taking over, but she’s being shut out.”

“I guess that would be reason enough to be pissed off at the world.”

“The thing is, the grandfather has some good points—says she needs to slow down, not rely so much on her instincts, and I can see that. She’s leaping ahead into big decisions without all the facts. And I’m caught in the middle.”

“Ouch. Sounds like a lose-lose situation.”

“Yeah,” Joe said slowly. “Yeah, it does.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Nick said. “Come on outside. I’m going to cook these babies up.”

They went out onto Nick’s deck where he had the gas grill already heated.

“I know the sister. Sasha Lockhart,” Nick said.

Joe studied his friend as Nick flipped the burgers, his face smoothed into an expressionless mask. What was up with that?

“Really,” he said.

Nick’s mouth tightened and Joe smiled. “What?”

“What, what?”

“What’s with her?” Joe grinned. “You hot for her? Is she a ball-buster like her sister?”

Nick choked. “Uh. No. She’s a spoiled society princess who spends her life getting manicures and going to parties.”

“No kidding.” Interesting. He eyed Nick. “Not your type, huh?”

Nick’s mouth twisted. “Not even close. She reminds me too much of Erin.”

His ex-wife, the social climbing bitch who’d dumped him when he’d changed careers from big money to no money. Well, Joe couldn’t blame Nick for not wanting to get involved with someone like that again.

But he couldn’t help but think Tara didn’t seem like a social climber. She seemed hardworking, intelligent, driven—but he didn’t get the impression it was about status.

“How the hell did you end up working in a youth center, anyway?” Joe asked as they sat down to burgers and potato salad.

Nick shrugged. “My law career was pretty short-lived. It just wasn’t for me. This job came open and I went for it. Gives me a chance to do something that feels good. The kids are amazing.” He shook his head, pausing with his thick burger in his hands. “I’ve learned more from them than from all my years of law school.”

Joe nodded. He couldn’t imagine voluntarily giving up the career he’d worked so hard for and felt that familiar twisting of his gut at the thought of what he’d lost. But hey, if Nick got more satisfaction from what he was doing, good on him.

“How long are you planning to stay here?” Nick asked.

“For a while. Don’t worry, I’ll look for my own place.”

“I’m not worried,” Nick said. “Just asking.”

“My plan is to get some new experience I can put on a résumé and get the hell back to San Francisco. The olive business is interesting, but it’s olives, for God’s sake.”

“Yeah. Olives.” Nick turned the corners of his mouth down.

“And no offense, but this place is not a big city like San Fran.”

“No, thank God, it isn’t.” Nick paused. “What about the hot granddaughter?”

“She needs a spanking.”

Nick laughed. “Well, if anyone can charm her into submission, it’s you, Stallion.”

Joe grinned at his old high school nickname. The Italian Stallion. God, nobody had mentioned that in years. It was good to be with Nick, someone he shared so much history with, someone he was totally comfortable with and someone he didn’t need to explain things to.

“She thinks she’s a Dominatrix.”

Nick lifted an eyebrow.

Joe wanted to tell Nick he’d met her at Le Château, but strict rules about discretion had been drummed into him about that kind of thing. “She thinks she’s the boss,” he said instead. “She even thinks she can boss me.”

Nick grinned back. “A challenge.”

“Oh yeah.”

The next day Tara sat Joe down in his new office, quickly set up by Paige while they were out at the ranch, with a bunch of stuff to look at. He was eager to dive in and learn more about the business, but it took less than an hour for him to realize he was wasting his time. With a groan of frustration, he went to her office, but she wasn’t there.

“Out at a meeting,” Paige told him with a smile. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Joe paused. Huh? What meeting had she gone to without telling him? “Yeah, maybe there is,” he said. “I’d like to see the audited financial statements for the last few years. Can you get me those?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ll bring them to your office in a few minutes. Anything else?”

“Tax assessments,” he continued and listed off a few other things he’d like to review. Then he went back to his office. Thankfully, Paige hadn’t questioned his authority to look at that documentation.

The afternoon passed quickly with something to sink his teeth into. At about four o’clock, Tara appeared in his office.

“How’s it going?” she asked with a falsely sweet smile.

He returned the smile. “Very educational.” She tried to hide her look of surprise, but he saw it flicker in her eyes.

“Really. That’s good.” She moved across the office, closer to his desk, to peer at what he was doing. Her eyes widened.

“Hey,” she said. “That’s not the stuff I gave you.”

He met her eyes. “The stuff you gave me was useless,” he said softly. “I was wasting my time.”

Her cheeks pinkened and her eyes shifted. “But…how did you get that?”

He shrugged. “I have my ways.”

They stared each other down and a tense heat grew between them.

“Don’t dick me around, Tara,” he finally said. “I know you don’t want me here, but I’m here. If you have a problem with that, you deal with Tyrone.”

Her mouth firmed and her eyes flashed. Turning on one sensible heel, she left his office.

And that’s what she did.

She stormed into her grandfather’s office, hurling the door shut behind her.

“This isn’t going to work.”

He looked up from the work on his desk.

“What isn’t going to work?” he inquired, but she knew he knew what she was talking about.

“I cannot work with that man. He’s extremely annoying and pushy. He helped himself to our financial statements and started going through a whole bunch of other sensitive financial information.”

Tyrone leaned back in his chair. “I’d expect him to be up to speed on the financial picture,” he said. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

She clenched her fists, still standing in front of his desk. She willed herself to calm down, knowing if she wanted to convince Grandpa this was a mistake, she would have to present her arguments calmly and rationally.

She took a seat and crossed her legs, marshalling her thoughts.

“Look,” she said, more calmly. “Having two managers is never going to work. Neither of us is sure what the extent of his authority is. In fact, I’m never sure what the extent of my authority is around here, with you second guessing everything.”

Tyrone frowned. Oops. Wrong thing to say.

“I mean, we need to have authority levels and lines of decision making clearly laid out,” she said.

“We can do that.”

“But with him gone. He’s just in the way here! I don’t have time to teach him every little thing about this business. I’m busy running it myself. If I don’t have time to do the work, the business may suffer.”

He smiled. “I’m not buying that one,” he said. “I realize it will take some of your time initially to get him up to speed, but the up-front investment will pay off when he can take some of the burden off you. Give you time to do the things you should be doing.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to be a charity princess like Sasha. I’m not interested in that.”

“You should be finding a husband. Having babies. You know the talk about you—you scare men away with your attitude.”

“What attitude?” Like she needed to ask. She swallowed a sigh. She knew, thanks to that disastrous relationship with Hugh. He hadn’t hesitated to tell her how her independence and need for control were humiliating and emasculating as he’d dumped her. Grandpa had drilled it into her over and over again—act like a lady, soft and sweet and not too smart. It had worked with Sasha, but Tara wasn’t going to get like Sasha. And what Grandpa didn’t know was that there actually were some men who liked a strong woman. Men who needed to be dominated, tied up, bound and gagged and flogged—but no, she wasn’t about to share that part of her life with him.

“Never mind,” she said shortly.

She couldn’t let Joe take some of the burden off her. Her fear was he would take all the burden off her. Her fear was she was losing control of her own destiny, her family business. If she didn’t have to work twelve-hour days, what would she do? Her whole sense of self was tied up in the job. She was her job. She could not be like Sasha, much as Grandpa wanted that. Her stomach cramped at the thought.

The fear struck deep and she trembled as she realized she was not going to convince him. With a heavy heart, she returned to her own office. Joe’s confident competence, his business knowledge and his intensely compelling personality made her want to scream with impotent frustration.