The Kiss Keeper

by Krista Sandor

  Nat bolted across the room and snagged the sexy undergarments. “I was going to do the whole high heels and a trench coat with only lingerie beneath for the plane ride.”

  Tera’s jaw dropped. “You? Little Miss Art Smock is going to try to pull a sexy trench-capade?”

  She glanced down at her dress that, unfortunately, could best be described as an art smock.

  This wardrobe switcheroo may be the craziest thing she’d ever done, but something in the back of her mind kept telling her she needed to up her game with Jake number six—not that she called him that.

  Natalie slid the slinky underwear into the bag next to her fire engine red open-toe high heels. “I was going to change once I got to the airport and throw my dress and sandals into my suitcase before I checked it. Do you think I’m crazy?”

  “No way! It might be fun to spice it up and cut the tension. You are bringing a boy home to meet the family. This is big, Natalie.”

  It was a big deal. She and Jake had been dating for five months and six days. They hadn’t done the whole I love you bit yet, but maybe this trip would take their relationship to the next level.

  “Which reminds me. I need to text him,” she said.

  Nat pulled her cell from her pocket to find no new texts and tried to ignore the twist in her belly. The plan was for Jake to fly back into Denver, meet her at the airport, and then the two of them would fly off to Maine together. He’d been out of town all week and hadn’t replied when she’d texted him this morning, trying to confirm where they’d meet at the airport. That sinking feeling doubled when she scrolled through her text feed to find that he hadn’t responded to any of her messages that week. It had been so crazy, finishing up the final few days of the school year, that she hadn’t noticed until now.

  She glanced at her friend, then hammered out a quick text.

  Can’t wait to see you! Text me when you get this!

  That was fine, right? Not too clingy or desperate? They were about to travel more than halfway across the country together and spend a week with her family. Meals had been planned, and a headcount had been taken to ensure enough seating, food, and drinks for the event. It wasn’t strange or obsessive to try to confirm that.

  She ignored the sinking feeling and hit send.

  “You’re making a face,” Tera said, crossing her arms.

  “It’s nothing,” she answered, pocketing her phone.

  “It’s something. I usually make that face when I have to interact with my stepmother or any other member of my extended family.”

  Extended family.

  Oh, no!

  Leslie and Lara’s stupid smug faces flashed in Nat’s mind.

  Tera cringed. “Oh my, God! You must be thinking about your family.”

  Nat waved her off. “Most of them are great.”

  “But?” Tera threw out.

  Natalie sighed. “But I have two cousins who I’ve never really gotten along with that are going to be there, too.”

  Tera’s eyes went wide. “Wait! Are these the podiatrist sisters who each married a podiatrist? The ones where both the guys asked to see your feet before they married your cousins?”

  Natalie cocked her head to the side. “How do you know about that?”

  “Happy hour, like three months ago. You know, the one with the bottomless margaritas,” Tera replied.

  Nat’s stomach was back in knots. “Oh, that’s right! And that’s why I barely drink. I’m a complete lightweight,” she replied, remembering the tequila haze, and the next morning spent nursing an epic hangover.

  Tera grinned. “And you’re a huge drunk-talker! So, it’s true? You have to spend a week with your two evil podiatrist step-cousins and their creepy foot fetish husbands?”

  Natalie sighed. “Sadly, they’re blood-related cousins, not step-cousins. And yes, they’ll all be there. At least, I don’t have to room with them like when we were kids at summer camp. My grandparents are putting us up in the individual rental cabins on the property.”

  Tera glanced down at her feet. “I hope you’ve got several pairs of closed-toe shoes in that suitcase.”

  Nat wiggled her exposed toes. “I’m way ahead of you. Besides those heels, these are the only sandals I’m bringing. I’ve got three pairs of closed-toe shoes in my suitcase. And I only plan on wearing sandals with a super-long maxi dress to keep my little piggies hidden away.”

  The women broke into laughter as Nat did another piggy wiggle demonstration when a knock at the door startled them.

  “Hey! The lime sherbet punch is almost gone! I wanted to make sure you got some, Miss Callahan,” came a friendly male voice.

  Jack Leeman, the school’s golden-haired gym teacher, stood in her doorway, grinning at her like a puppy dog.

  “Miss Callahan and I will be down in a second, Jack,” Tera answered, biting back a very un-puppy-doggish grin.

  The man nodded and headed down the hall, like a golden retriever who’d gotten a that’s a good boy pat on the head.

  Tera came to her side. “You could always have Jack if things with Jake didn’t work out.”

  “You’re terrible,” Natalie replied, setting her purse and art tote on the roller bag. She’d need to leave for the airport right after the faculty celebration.

  “Well, he might be your type, too,” Tera said, her tone growing mischievous, as they headed toward the lounge. “When you look at all the letters in their names, Jack is pretty close to Jake. But Jack has a short vowel A sound while Jake has a nice long vowel. Do you like your vowels like you like your Jakes, Miss Callahan? Hard and long?”

  “Hard and long! Those are two excellent words to describe our Miss Callahan.”

  The women gasped as the school’s principal, Mr. Lutz, poked his head out of the staff workroom.

  Natalie stiffened—and not in the long and hard way, but the nervous and humiliated one.

  She pasted on a smile. “Sorry, sir, we were just…”

  “We were discussing long and short vowel lessons and how to incorporate art into teaching the concept,” Tera offered, swooping in.

  “You both are always putting your students first,” the man replied, ushering them into the packed room.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lutz,” Natalie said as Tera made a beeline for the punch bowl.

  Nat started to head over when the principal tapped her arm. “Since you’ve joined our staff, Miss Callahan, you’ve always worked hard and put in long hours. And I’m not sure if you know this, but Mrs. Ford, our regular art teacher, isn’t coming back.”

  Natalie’s heart jumped into her throat. Was he about to ask her to stay on as the school’s permanent art teacher?

  “Mr. Lutz, it’s time for your speech,” the school secretary called and gestured to her watch.

  The principal pulled a note card from his pocket. “One moment, Miss Callahan. I do have something else I need to discuss with you privately. Can you stick around after my little speech?”

  “Of course,” she replied, holding herself back from doing cartwheels, then wove her way through the staff to stand next to Tera.

  “Did he ask you to stay on? I just heard that Ford’s not coming back?” her friend said, handing her a paper cup of the green punch.

  Nat gathered herself. “Not yet, but he did say that I’ve done a great job and that he wants to talk with me.”

  Tera raised her cup. “You’ve got to be a shoo-in!”

  How she wanted to believe that! How she wanted to fist-bump her way through the room, high-fiving each teacher in the faculty lounge like they were in the winning team’s locker room after the World Series. But one too many times in her life, she’d gotten her hopes up only to have them crash down upon her.

  Was she cursed?

  With each failed “Jake” relationship and each promising job that didn’t last, it was hard not to think that Otis Wiscasset hadn’t unleashed the Kiss Keeper Curse on her when she was thirteen.

  The bright side. At least, she wasn’t living
at the bottom of a well.

  Tera gestured with her chin toward the front of the room. “Hey, Principal Lutz said he’s got a big announcement.”

  Nat pushed her Kiss Keeper Curse worries away and focused on the rest of the man’s speech.

  “Finally, we’re here today to celebrate an end to a wonderful school year and the many teachers who worked so hard to ensure that our students continue to love learning, and I’ve got some terrific news, folks,” Principal Lutz began.

  Natalie downed the rest of her punch. She couldn’t have a dry, cracked voice when she thanked the principal for offering her a full-time, vested position as the school’s official art teacher.

  Mr. Lutz smiled broadly. “That grant came in for us, and we have the funds to put in a brand-new play structure.”

  The staff erupted into cheers as side conversations broke out, and Principal Lutz melted into the crowd of educators.

  Natalie forced herself to take a breath.

  Okay, that wasn’t a bad thing. The school could use a new playground.

  But what about the art teacher position?

  She glanced at Tera.

  Her friend patted her arm. “Heads up. Lutz is coming your way.”

  “Miss Callahan, may I have a word with you in the hall?”

  Oh, no!

  In school-speak, a word in the hallway was never good. But it couldn’t always be bad. Perhaps, he wanted privacy when offering her the art teacher position. He was just being a gentleman in case she was so overcome with excitement she fainted.

  Nat’s pulse kicked into overdrive.

  OMG! This wasn’t a Victorian novella.

  She shared a nervous look with Tera, then followed the man out into the dreaded hallway.

  “Miss Callahan, you’ve been such an asset to our staff.”

  This was a good start.

  Natalie gave him her best Mary Poppins, lover of children and spoons full of sugar smile. “It’s been such an honor teaching here. You’ve got an amazing staff, and the children and their families have been wonderful to work with.”

  Mr. Lutz’s expression softened. “That’s what makes telling you this so hard, Miss Callahan.”

  The district pulled our arts funding.

  I wish we could keep you, but we don’t have the money in the budget.

  Despite nodding and putting on a brave face, Natalie didn’t hear much more as the image of the Kiss Keeper’s well flashed through her mind, and the dream of finding a permanent teaching position spiraled down the drain.

  2

  Jake

  Jake Teller glanced out at the packed auditorium, took note of the blonde with the killer cleavage in the front row, then strode across the stage. His long legs consumed the space as the spotlight lit his enviable physique in golden light.

  “Guilt and remorse have no place in the world of business. Bullshit thoughts of karma and yin and yang only serve to hold you back. Take my advice. Work every angle you’ve got and stick to the black and white. The numbers, the statistics, the reports. Anybody who tells you that they go by their gut alone when it comes to buying multi-million-dollar commercial real estate is a damn fool and should not be someone you choose to keep in your confidence.”

  He watched as the participants eagerly took notes, many holding up cell phones and recording his talk. He’d be the first to admit that industry symposiums and speaking events were one percent substance and ninety-nine percent fluff. But it looked good to have his name, and the name of the company he worked for, Linton Holdings, splashed all over the industry he was itching to conquer.

  There was an ethical line, sure, but nothing in the realm of real estate negotiations was carved into stone. He lived his life a breath away from that tipping point, teetering on the edge. Careful to keep his hands just clean enough.

  He stopped and stared out at the crowd. “And never fall in love with a property. Attachment is an emotion best left to the weak,” he added as the click of hundreds of people typing his words verbatim onto their laptops crackled and popped through the cavernous space.

  At twenty-eight years old, he was the youngest development VP at Linton. And more important than that, a favorite of the founder himself, billionaire hotel and real estate developer, Charlie Linton.

  Eager to prove himself to the self-made tycoon who’d been in the game for fifty years, he’d traveled the globe, procuring the perfect properties for an even better price. Dubai, Hong Kong, Montenegro, it didn’t matter the country or continent. With a head for numbers and the ability to see trends before they peaked, he’d demonstrated not only his intelligence but his hunger.

  Jake Teller was in it for the kill, and that’s why he was the best.

  He eyed the cleavage in the front row, and the woman took notice. She ran her tongue across her top lip, then uncrossed and crossed her legs, allowing her already short skirt to ride up her thighs with the sensual movement.

  He bit back a grin. Symposiums were great for picking up a quick screw in some generic hotel room, and he followed the same principles with relationships as he did in business.

  Well, using the term relationship was a bit of a stretch.

  Could he give a woman a night of immeasurable pleasure?

  Absolutely.

  Would he be there in the morning to cook her breakfast?

  Hell no.

  Rule number one, just like in real estate, never fall in love.

  The guy in the sound booth signaled for him to wrap it up, and Jake gazed out into the packed room, ready to go out on a bang, and then meet up with the chick in the front row to do the same—multiple times.

  “Properties will come and go. Be tenacious. Be relentless and keep your heart out of it.” He met the blonde’s gaze. “Don’t give an inch until you’re completely satisfied. That’s the way you get ahead in the big leagues of commercial real estate.”

  The crowd clapped, and he absorbed the adulation. He wasn’t a trust fund baby born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Everything he’d gotten in this life had been by his own volition.

  The lights came on, and a stagehand rushed over and removed the mic from his lapel. As the auditorium cleared out, he caught sight of the blonde, lingering at the end of the row. Now, this was the way to end a day of presentations. He walked off the stage and headed her way. She straightened up and gave him one hell of a you’re about to get laid grin when someone else caught his eye. Someone vastly more important than a piece of convention ass.

  His mentor. His teacher. The man he’d emulated since the day he got hired on at Linton Holdings.

  Charlie Linton.

  He passed the blonde without a second glance and extended his hand. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have gotten you a seat up front.”

  “Next to that?” the man asked, gesturing with his chin toward the blonde who hadn’t yet realized that she’d become inconsequential.

  “Nothing wrong with a little company,” Jake tossed back.

  Charlie chuckled. “But you see, Jake. If I’d let you know I was coming, you would have offered for me to do the presentation with you, and I wanted to watch you, unguarded.”

  “Fair enough. How’d I do, boss?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

  Charlie narrowed his gaze. “Like always, you nailed it. There’s not a councilman, sultan, or senator you can’t get on your side. I knew you had the balls for this racket after you closed the deal on that high-rise in Dubai. Do you remember that project?”

  Of course, he remembered. But the fact that Charlie remembered it, with his myriad of business deals going on at any one moment, was what spoke volumes.

  Pride glimmered in the man’s eyes. “I’d sent all my senior people over, thinking it was a slam-dunk deal. But after three months of negotiations, they hadn’t gained an inch. That’s when you came to me, Jake. Christ! What were you? Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-three,” he corrected.

  “Twenty-fucking-three,” Charlie repeated, shak
ing his head. “You asked if you could take a shot at Dubai. I thought it was youthful ignorance. If ten of my top people—half of them my damn nephews—couldn’t pull off a half a billion-dollar deal, then how the hell could a kid fresh out of college do it.”

  Jake kept his features neutral as Charlie watched him closely, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes deepening.

  “In less than twenty-four hours after you landed in the United Arab Emirates, you called to tell me you’d sealed the deal.”

  Jake shrugged off the accomplishment. “I just happened to know that the Sheikh heading up Dubai’s development council liked basketball. After a few games of one-on-one, he was ready to come to the table.”

  Charlie shook his head as a sly grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “It wasn’t only the basketball. I saw your notes. You’d researched their entire negotiation team. You’d scoured their social media profiles. You knew them inside and out. You knew what they wanted, and you knew how to use that to get me what I wanted.”

  “Rolling in with the Linton name doesn’t hurt either,” Jake replied.

  Yes, he’d single-handedly closed a huge deal, but nobody liked a loudmouthed braggart.

  Charlie continued to study him with a hawkish eye. “You and I both know it wasn’t only my name that got us that deal. Despite that cocksure presentation you did, you’re persuasive without being a prick. You know how to work a room. You come in knowing what levers to pull. You do your goddamn homework.”

  “You taught me that, Charlie. I owe my success to you, and I’ll always put Linton Holdings first,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

  The walk down memory lane was over as Charlie’s inquisitive demeanor changed to one of the driven and ruthless negotiator. At seventy-five years old, the man still commanded respect and a healthy dose of fear from anyone who dared get in his way.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that because I have a special job for you, Jake. There’s a piece of land I’d like for you to acquire.”

  “I’m your man. I can be on a plane to anywhere in less than an hour. Where to next? Just this morning, I got a tip from a local politician that the market is heating up in Spain. Is that where you’d like me to go?” he asked.