She snorted. “He doesn’t see me. I’m his mouthpiece, competent but never really allowed to do anything on my own without his constant direction, like everyone else on the staff.” Miranda arched a brow. “You know what I’m saying. Your father is the same way.”
Stacia sighed. “We both have strong-willed fathers who are controlling and arrogant. That only means we have to work harder to prove ourselves.”
“But you walked away. I can’t imagine your powerful senator father happy with his only daughter working public relations for a baseball team.”
Stacia grinned, probably remembering the last event they had all attended with her father, who had looked ready to blow at the sight of his daughter and a reformed bad boy baseball player. “That’s the best part. He hates Jason, too. But it was time for me to break free and make my own way. Maybe that’s something for you to consider.”
“Are you saying I should walk away?” Miranda couldn’t even think of a time without the team. She had been coming to the stadium since she was a little girl. She always knew she belonged here.
Stacia shook her head. “No, but maybe you need to fight for it another way.”
*
A few hourslater, Miranda relaxed into the strong, capable hands of Mei-Ling as she massaged Miranda’s shoulders. Knots seemed to miraculously appear after every meeting with her father, breeding in her shoulders and neck. Added to that stress was meeting with Lucas and walking him through the systems and the reports he required, scheduling meetings with department heads, and trying so hard not to be swayed by the seductive idea of new blood in management. She had to escape, needed a break from the tension in the office, from the conflict that was rapidly approaching. How could she convince her father to make the necessary changes to save the team, to work with Lucas Wainright?
The disloyal thoughts only added to her tension and she groaned. Smells of acrylic and nail polish saturated the room. A dull roar of conversation carried on around Miranda but she paid no attention. The technician gestured to her nail for approval of the color. Shocking pink. The perfect color to brighten up the drab winter but it would probably only reinforce the image of an empty-headed woman. She sighed. Screw it. She loved color; when things got particularly rough, she could look at her nails and think happy thoughts.
And just like that, she was back to thinking about Lucas and her shoulders tensed. Mei-Ling tapped her lightly. “Relax, Ms. Callahan.”
She closed her eyes and eased into the moment, pushing all thoughts of baseball and the problems with her father out of her mind. Just as she was relaxing, her cell phone rang. The two workers frowned at her. Despite her being the customer, they still ran the show. Whoever said the customer was always right never met Mei-Ling and the girls at her shop. With an irritated sniff, Mei-Ling stalked away to work on another customer, switching on the chair massager as a poor second to her strong fingers.
She shook her head when Tina gestured to the purse. “Let it go to voice mail. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
She leaned back in the chair and sighed, letting the warmth and the massaging motion of the chair seep into her back. The cell phone rang again and Miranda frowned.
“Tina, grab the phone and check who it is, please.”
Tina reached in her bag and turned the phone to Miranda. “Want to answer it?”
Lucas Wainright
How did he get her number? “No, just leave it on the counter.”
The phone stopped vibrating and stayed put on the counter. Tina glanced up at her, a question in her almond-shaped eyes.
“Problem with a boyfriend?”
Miranda laughed, a dry bark that almost jarred the nail polish from the manicurist. “Not even close. He works with my father and me.”
Tina arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, a playful look in her eye. Miranda shook her head. “Not on your life. Not my type at all. He’s too uptight and tense and stern for me. Too much like my father.”
But he is crazy sexy.A tiny voice spoke from the inner recesses of her mind.
“He’s the one calling you.”
“True. Like I said, he probably has issues with reports or something. I needed a break and a manicure is relaxing.”
Mei-Ling stopped at the table, eyebrows drawn into a straight line. She was a terrifying woman and no customer wanted to piss her off and be banned from the salon. Somehow, Miranda must have angered the small, Asian woman. “Phone call. I’m not running an answering service here. Make it quick. Customers call on that line.”
Miranda glanced at her wet nails, then at Tina, then at the cordless phone on the table. Tina picked it up and held it out to Miranda. She grabbed the phone gingerly between her fingers, careful not to smudge the wet nails.
“Hello?”
“Why they hell weren’t you picking up your damn phone? I had to track down your assistant to find you.” Lucas Wainright’s voice shot out from the phone like a bullet, piercing her ear and her calm.
Miranda resisted the urge to apologize. “I don’t answer to you.”
“Everyone answers to me. Your mom asked me to call you. Get to the Savannah Medical Center. Your father’s had a heart attack.”
The phone crashed to the floor and shattered in a fountain of plastic and metal.