Damsel Under Stress by Shanna Swendson Page B

there wasn’t much I could say, given that all of her arguments made total sense, in a way.
    “I guess I could take my computer and some of my things down to R and D,” I said.
    “I probably need your computer. I don’t have one of my own, and don’t a lot of the appointment requests come through your e-mail?”
    That was one step too far. My desk I could take or leave, but I didn’t want her having access to my e-mail. If she took my computer and e-mail account, she’d be one step away from becoming the office version of Single White Female and stealing my entire life. “I’m sure we can set you up with a computer, and I’ll forward you any e-mails that are pertinent to your duties.” I mentally scored a point for myself. I thought I’d handled that situation rather professionally.
    She glared at me, but it would have been unreasonable for her to insist on taking my computer, so there wasn’t much she could say. “I put all of your other things together here, so I wouldn’t get them mixed up with my stuff,” she said. My desk calendar, planner, and coffee mug had all been shoved to one corner of my desk. She already had a potted plant and a few photos set up on the bookcase. I got the feeling that the paint color would be different the next time I dropped by.
    “Oh, thanks,” I said halfheartedly. “Let me get those out of your way.” I disconnected my laptop from the network and closed it, then put the rest of my things in my tote bag, grabbed my coat, and hauled everything out of the office. “I’ll probably be working out of Owen’s lab for the time being,” I told Trix as I passed her desk.
    “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “She didn’t waste much time, did she? I can’t believe you’re letting her kick you out of your own office.”
    “Who would you rather share an office with, Kim or Owen?”
    “You’ve got a point there.”
    The intercom on Trix’s desk buzzed, and Kim’s voice said, “I need you to get IT to bring me a computer right away, and I’d like some coffee.”
    Trix rolled her eyes. “Her majesty calls. She’s lucky she’s immune to magic, or I’d be tempted to put a good curse on her.”
    As I lugged my belongings down to R&D, I reflected that what I really needed was a fairy godmother for work. True, my love life wasn’t always spectacularly successful, but I didn’t necessarily have the skills, experience, or raw material to be a love goddess. When it came to work, though, you’d think I’d know how to handle myself. I’d started more or less running a business when I was still a teenager, I had a business degree, and I’d survived in the New York City business world for more than a year, but I still felt out of my element when office politics came into play.
    Why was it that you could only get a fairy godmother to help you snag Prince Charming with a glass slipper? Where was the benevolent soul who provided the killer presentation, the perfect thing to say to the office backstabber, and the fabulous Armani suit to wear to the crucial meeting? Of course, you’d probably have to make sure you got out of the meeting before the stroke of five, or else that Armani suit would turn into polyester separates from JCPenney and your high-end laptop with the killer presentation would revert to being an Etch-a-Sketch.
    If Ethelinda really wanted to help me, she wouldn’t be meddling in my relationship with Owen. She’d help me find a way to hang on to my job and my place in the company without making unnecessary enemies while I worked on what I hoped would be a temporary and one-time-only project. I wondered what she’d say if I told her she needed to update her fairy godmother duties for the twenty-first century now that women had a lot more on their minds than finding a good husband to provide for them.
    The door to R&D swung open as I approached, which meant Owen was expecting me. I still had an access crystal Merlin had given me while I worked on my