Undercover Ch 02

Why on earth had she accepted this assignment, Erin wondered for the billionth time while stuttering around on a muddy road in heals too high for comfort. The wind was blowing fast, swirling through her newly dyed curls and making her shiver in her thin city clothes. She stared with longing at the entry door as she was gradually closing in on it. But first she had to cross an area better designed for hiking boots than stilettos.

How a company could be placed in the middle of nowhere, 10 kilometres from the nearest store, and still be a profitable corporate in today's market was beyond her understanding. Damn Warren for cashing in on that long-time favour and providing her with this monstrous task. He had even resolved to tempt her with the promotion she had wanted for such a long time.

"Act silly and sexy," he had said with that broad smile of his. She could not quite make up her mind which of the two was the most difficult to accomplish. He might as well have asked her to stop breathing. To top it all he had dared define sexy as "Big breast and large cleavage, of course." As if she had neither. Well, right now she did, thanks to some modern intervention in the clothing industry, and she was practically freezing her nipples off because of it.

Thank you, Warren, she thought with an irony. This was the last time she accepted a job before getting all the details in advance. It was one thing to locate frauds - that would only be a welcome change to her normal and boring work-schedule. But the means she had to apply in order to catch these guys was something she had not fully grasped the extension of before ending up here.

Thank god for wonder bra and extra padding, she thought. Coupled with a sweater with the deepest cleavage Stella could provide, she was practically bared all the way to her navel - and freezing already. Damn Warren and Stella for coming up with this cover. She would surely remember to thank them both when she came down with lung fever or worse, and she would happily share the disease with both of them. That would hopefully teach them to come up with a better plan the next time.

Still, her cup size had doubled. That should help improve her courage - if courage was the right word for it. This cup size would probably give her a problem walking through normal-sized doors, she thought ironically. Now, only the silly part remained.

Asking the top analyst to start acting silly was degrading -- to say the least. Hadn't she just spend the last five years doing the opposite to and obtain a minimum of respect from her male co-workers? And she had succeeded. These days her co-workers respected her opinions and listened to her instead of shaking their heads whenever she opened her mouth. She hoped none of them would ever learn about this assignment and what she had done to reveal the fraud.

Okay, okay, no more time for complaints. She would take it out on Warren and Stella as soon as she got back to the civilized world again. Right now, she had a role to perform. That meant she had better practise her smiles and happy-thoughts-mantras, and remember that getting drunk in order to act more stupid was a bad idea.

Also, she had to remember to put the shoulders back, hips forward, or was it the other way around? Stella had nagged for almost two days now, but the amount of information was simply too overwhelming after a lifetime of wearing clothes for comfort instead of show-off. And what was it Stella had said about waxing her legs again? And concealer before or after foundation?

Splash! In shock she stared down at her legs planted right in the middle of a large puddle of water. The water was cold and murky -- of course -- and already seeping into her pumps before she could get away from the disaster zone. Just great! That was the only thing missing. This day had better improve fast, Erin thought glumly. Damn, she would probably freeze to death soon. Only now she had a good excuse for taking off these ridiculous shoes.

Walking into the building and heading toward the office area, she could not see anyone around. The muddy water was gradually transferring itself from her shoes and onto the carpet. She glanced down and made a grimace when she noticed the trail of muddy footprints she was leaving behind. It was always fun to start a new job and this would definitely leave an impression, she chuckled before walking full-faced straight into a mountain. A warm mountain, as well. Oops.

"Sorry," she said and stumbled before catching her balance again. All the time with a suspicion she probably looked just as stupid as she felt.

The mountain watched the trail of footprints behind her and his expression turned into a frown which completely ruined the nicely chiselled face and made him look very frightening indeed.

"Who are you?" he asked gruffly.

The voice obviously belonged to the owner of the carpet - a man who seemed more at home in the wilderness she had just passed than in a polished office, at least when judging by his tanned skin. Had it not been for the posh Armani suit that seemed like a natural skin to him? Still, those muscles were definitely not obtained while merely shuffling papers around. Most likely this was her new boss and the main suspect.

Nice fellow, she thought ironically. Big, brutish and already having a grudge for her. This was just great. She had definitely made an impression, yes. She could not wait to finish this assignment and head back to the civilized world. He was staring at her as if trying to turn her into a submissive just by his sheer, arrogant will. Oh well, she had faced down enough males in her time, so this one would not scare her off that easily. Luckily her new role allowed her some new weapons at her disposal and she intended to use every one she had available.

"Oh, hello. You must be Mr. Mason. I'm your new secretary, Erin Taylor" she answered with the well-practised smile and gave him her hand in a weak handshake. "Warren told me

so

much about you," she giggled while shoving her breasts forward, giving him a nice look down her extensive cleavage, and started twirling a curl in her hair.

He only mumbled as a comment to her gigantic effort of proving her stupidity and lack of morals. Obviously, blondes were not his favourite, she thought ironically. Wonder what would happen if she decided to fling herself at him? She guessed a 50% chance that he would puke and flee the scene after a few seconds if his sour expression was anything to go by.

H'mmn, maybe not such a bad idea, she thought solemnly. Then she would have the files to herself, find the evidence and be out of there in a few hours. It seemed like a good plan. Especially if he was the culprit as Warren had predicted. The grimace was still evident on his face, and it got more pronounced the more she studied him.

Then he suddenly burst out, "

You're

the secretary Warren wanted to lend me? Seems more like a freak parade trying to ruin my carpet," he said icily.

"Oh, that. Well I was thinking on something very important," she explained slowly so the jerk could follow.

"Like what? Like the alien invasion of earth?" he said while giving her outfit a telltale look, as if indicating he included her in that group.

"No, not at all. It was much more important than that. You see, I was thinking about whether to use foundation before or after concealer. An extremely important question I think, and I was trying really hard to remember what Vogue wrote about it in their latest issue," she continued and smiled broadly at him so he would understand how stupid she really was.

Then she waited for the explosion. After half a minute, he was still glaring at her. Strange, she thought. He must be a control freak. Any normal person would have thrown her out by now. She almost wished he

would

throw her out. Then she could return to the civilisation and tell Warren she had done her best but had been conquered by some wild land-beast -- dressed in Armani. Yep, that would surely convince Warren, she thought ironically.

"So, why did Warren fire you?" the land-beast asked conversationally as he seemed to have calmed down again to his normal icy facade.

"Oh no, he promoted me," she said in the high-pitched voice she had practised so hard for the last two days. The practise paid off as she watched Cade Mason wince visibly as she reached the highest tones and she immediately took advantage of the effect and continued in the same screechy voice. "He said I could use a change in scenery, and he transferred me here."

Topping it off with a loud giggle she noticed him wince one more time before collecting his expression into icy calmness once again. The man was too controlled for his own good. A genuine control freak and that meant he would be harder to expose. She needed to take him off guard if she was going to succeed in this mission. But how could she achieve that?

"What is Warren thinking? I really do not need another secretary. I'll have another discussion with Warren. In the mean time you can make yourself useful and make coffee for the morning meeting."

***

"Warren," Cade yelled into the telephone. "Why one earth are you dumping that idiot of a secretary on my desk? Can't you just fire her? She can't even make decent coffee. How on earth am I going to use her? As decoration?" He could hear laughter streaming from the other end.

"Oh, she will turn out fine. I just needed to remove her for a time. Some married guy got a bit distracted, so I figured you needed a new secretary for a while," Warren replied. "Besides, she's a definite asset. Just wait and you'll see."

"Thanks, I've already noticed those

assets

as you call them, and so did the rest of my crew. She definitely has both her resume and brainpower right there in her cleavage. She ruined the entire staff meeting by offering undrinkable coffee and lots of cleavage to a bunch of Neanderthals in training. The men still haven't begun thinking with their brains after the ordeal, and the production is suffering. Solve your own problems next time, will you?"

"Well, look at the bright side. Maybe your guys will start bathing for a change. Ha-ha. Just remember that you promised to keep her for three months." Cade just growled into the phone. "Or is it something else that bothers you? Afraid you will start chasing her yourself?"

Cade chose to ignore Warren's comment and attacked the problem head on.

"Tell me, Warren, is this another of those women you keep pushing in my direction?"

"No, how can you think so?" Warren replied quickly and he sounded so innocent, Cade knew he was on to something.

"If so, I must say that your taste has completely deteriorated since the last one you set me up with, and that is the only thing that speaks in favour of your innocence."

"Really, Cade. You know I promised never to set you up with anyone since you threw out the last one, but I must admit I'm still concerned for you. You need to settle down some time."

"When I meet someone who's sexy as hell, has a brain and is not after my money, I'll consider it. But until then, stay out of my personal life, Warren!"

"Maybe you should try that secretary I sent you, then. She's usually only after a man's body and that should fit your demands, wouldn't it?" Warren laughed at the other end.

Cade smashed the phone down, enraged and frustrated by an overload of work and Warren's good humour. He was doing this on purpose, he thought. Getting rid of a problem and dumping her on him, and already she was distracting too many of his crew from behaving as rational beings -- including himself.

So, how to deal with the infuriating female? Perhaps he could appeal to her common sense, although he strongly doubted her ability to use any sense at all. No one who dressed or acted that way could be using much of her brainpower. Or perhaps she was simply a troublemaker? Hopefully the next three months would pass quickly and he could pack off the woman and send her back to being Warren's problem.

***

Warren chuckled long after the conversation had ended. The plan was working perfectly -- so far. Stir up both the hotheads, include a bit of false truths, making they believe they had a job to do, and just wait for the results. Marriage within two months was his bet. Maybe one month. If not, at least he would have dealt with one monkish executive.

The cure seemed to work wonders already. He had never before experienced Cade as anything other than calm and controlled. This would definitely be good for him. Only a pity he had to send in his best employee in the process, but the end result might very well be worth the risk.

He had asked Stella to choose Erin's outfits with extreme care. Both to make her cover seem believable, but particularly to make her stand out in the crowd. This way Cade was bound to notice her, and it seemed the plan had succeeded very well in that aspect. Now it was just a matter of time and patience before Cade swallowed the bait.

***

Erin dumped into her chair. She had been given a desk right outside Cade's office and her tasks included catering to his every whim. For the time being he had no more whims to send her on, but the lasts few had brought her all over the company building while her feet were protesting every step she took.

Finally she had an opportunity to sit down and get rid of the torture weapons called heals. How did women bear them? One could barely walk, and every step hurt like hell. Perhaps she should have listened to Stella and done a bit more practising before heading out in the field. The next time she would definitely take Stella's advice to heart. She wiggled her feet and tried to feel her toes. Every movement hurt and she wondered if her feet would ever feel normal again after this assignment was over. More likely she would be permanently lame.

The muddy water had soaked through her shoes and stockings. She had better take the opportunity to dry them before going outdoors again. She resolutely stood up and raised her left foot onto the chair, reached under the skirt and rolled the soaked stockings down her thigh.

Stay ups, she cursed. Right now she preferred Stay-downs and Stay-offs.

Suddenly a gasp sounded from somewhere behind her. Oh God, not him again. Mr-High-and-Mighty had caught her at a bad time -- again. He had practically monitored all her movements for the last couple of hours. This way she would never have an opportunity to locate any culprits.

Maybe he was scared of being on his own, she thought glumly. More likely he suspected her of robbing him blind as soon as he turned his back to her. Okay, she just had to remember to act stupid. Not particularly difficult considering her present awkward situation, she thought ironically.

She turned while plastering a fake smile on her face and asked sweetly, "Mr. Mason. How nice to see you again. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Wha-what do you think you're doing?" he growled at her in his usual gruff voice. "The strip club is 15 km to the north. Here, we work using other parts of our body."

She giggled loudly. "Oh, Mr. Mason, you are

so

funny," and winked at him while igniting inside from his insult. "I was just surprised by the weather and got soaked, so if you'll just turn around I can finish undressing. Perhaps you could keep a look out if someone is coming?"

"B-but," he said, before making a mental shrug and starting afresh and speaking is his most regal tone. "Look, Miss Taylor, we need a serious discussion about your clothes. I know this is your first day and it's understandable to make some mistakes. But you simply cannot continue dressing like that. It's not good for the company profile to have customers being exposed to such lack of clothing. It's practically indecent the way you dress."

"What do you mean by

indecent

? I've covered all the important places, haven't I?" she asked curiously, waiting and hoping he could provide her with a good reason for not walking around half naked and freezing her butt of. But his tone still made her see red.

"You need to cover up a bit more, and follow the dress code," he explained in a superior tone, acting 20 years her senior in a second. "That means your skirt should go below your knees and your blouse should cover..." he stopped suddenly and pointed vaguely at her breasts while he contemplated how to explain it to her. "Uhm...be buttoned up," he finally continued.

Why, the self-absorbed prig, she thought. Maybe getting on his nerve would be far better than contemplating his request. Definitely better, she thought when watching the arrogant man look even more superior now.

"I like my way of dressing, and it's my choice," she answered icily. "And if it's not to your liking you can simply stop staring at my tits all the time."

She could see she had managed to shock him again. Not that she felt sorry for him anyway. He looked healthy enough to withstand a high blood pressure for a while, and he was probably much too used to getting his every request fulfilled.

After a lengthy pause he had calmed down to his normal High-And-Mighty-personality.

"Well, at least try to not flaunt your cleavage at my staff during meetings. It's distracting them from important matters." Then he left.

Leaving her with a great desire to smash something -- preferably his head -- before tramping on it with the torturous pumps. That raise Warren offered had better be good. Maybe she should have demanded a new office as well or early retirement from male-contaminated areas. Now that would be nice, she thought.

***

Finally, the day was over. She felt more dead than alive. That Mason-jerk had ordered her around the entire factory all day long, and walking a couple of miles in new shoes was definitely not her idea of fun. She was sure he had done it on purpose -- just to get her to quit. She would get him to eat that dismissal if it was the last thing she did.

Right now, all she could think about was limping the final few meters back to her temporary apartment and doing some necessary first aid on her legs. What a pity the shoes didn't come with a first aid kit when Stella purchased them or knowing Stella, she had kept the kit herself and would never admit she ever needed it.

***

After foot baths and painkillers, she was back on her heels the next day. Today, she had decided to sit down at her desk the entire time. "

Sprained ankle

," she had told Cade.

"Stupidity, more likely," he was mumbling to himself, but still he allowed her to sit down for a while. "Just staple these papers together," he said and gave her the largest pile of papers she had ever seen. "You might as well do something useful. Only dump those heels," he said. "You are not able to walk on them."

"But they are very fashionable," she interceded.

"Not the way you're walking. You can barely stand straight in those shoes. Reminds me of

Bambi on ice

, actually," he laughed and walked into his own office.

Curse that arrogant pig, she thought. Just you wait. Then she had an idea. "Oh, Mr. Mason?" she asked silkily.

"What?" he barked. After a while he returned to the outer office.

"I have a problem stapling these pages together," she explained. Can you help me, please?"

"That's probably because you're using the stapler wrong," he said haughtily. "Here, I'll show you," he said while holding the papers and stapled them together. "It's about time you got your nose out of the make-up box and started concentrating," he added.

She took the stapler and slammed it hard onto the papers he was holding, hitting his thumbs at the same time. He screamed loudly, and she stepped backwards.