My Man Pendleton by Elizabeth Bevarly Page A

honesty were unnatural in a man. Despite their presence in Pendleton, however, and for all her father's conviction to the contrary, he was not the man for her.
    Still, she thought as she closed her bedroom door behind her, that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun in the meantime.

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    Chapter 4

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    T he Thursday morning version of the Novak-Martin Variety Hour went much better than Monday's had. Best of all, the addition of even more visuals, like the productivity report and the strategy graph, provided Pendleton with something to look at while his brain had the opportunity to wander at will.
    Unfortunately, the path his brain seemed most intent on wandering down ended with the not quite completed puzzle of Miss Katherine Atherton McClellan. Oddly, it was exactly the same route his brain had taken for nearly every one of the sixty-three hours and change—both conscious and unconscious—that had passed since he had first made her acquaintance. And that, he had decided quickly, was terrain no sane man should explore.
    Just what the hell had Monday night been about anyway? he wondered yet again. For all the McClellans' dubious civil behavior, there had been a tension in the air thick enough to hack with a meat cleaver. Pendleton had felt like a dead fly in the soup of family politics all evening long.
    "Pendleton!"
    Damn. Caught again.
    "Sir?" he replied halfheartedly.
    "I'd like your opinion," McClellan, Sr. announced. "What do you think of the modifications Novak and Martin have made to their presentation?"
    Pendleton pretended to study all the visual aids—and, my, how they'd grown in the time he'd been thinking about the enigmatic Miss McClellan—then leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. Entwining his fingers thoughtfully, he said, "In my opinion, sir, the implementation of such a visionary objective does seem to impact our mission statement, but I wonder if it won't be more productive in segmenting our quality group."
    McClellan, Sr. studied him through narrowed eyes. "In what way?"
    This time Pendleton leaned back in his seat, exuding far more confidence than he felt. "Well, sir, reengineering uncompetitive criteria can't possibly achieve a strategic trend. I think we should focus instead on data compilation, the performance track, quality assurance, and a dynamic paradigm. And let's not forget core competency."
    "Oh, I could never forget that."
    "Then I think we're in agreement."
    McClellan, Sr. nodded. "I think we are." He turned to Novak and Martin, who stood amid charts, graphs, what appeared to be a chemical equation of some kind, and a big blowup of something that somehow resembled a map of downtown Trenton . "Men," he stated, "good work."
    The two VPs twitched a bit, clear indications of their relief. "Thank you, sir," they chorused as one.
    "Now then," McClellan, Sr. continued as Novak and Martin returned to their seats. "There's one fi nal, little matter on our agenda that we need to address this morning. Kit's run off again."
    Well, that certainly caught Pendleton's attention. Not just because it wasn't often that a CEO's daughter's activities made it onto the corporate agenda, but also because every single one of the executives present began to squirm and avert his or her gaze steadfastly away from their fearless leader.
    "Who went after her last time?" McClellan, Sr. asked, considering each of his executives one by one as they began to fidget even more restlessly.
    "Come on, come on," he cajoled. "Be a man about it." Then, when still no one came forward, he added, "I can check the files, you know."
    Across the table and to the left of Pendleton, Ramirez, with clear reluctance, raised a hand—a hand, he noted further, that was encased in a plaster cast that disappeared into the sleeve of his pin-striped blazer. McClellan, Sr. seemed to notice, too, because he squinted more closely at his VP.
    "Did Kit do that to you?" he asked, indicating the cast.
    Ramirez glanced at his hand,