by K. L. Brady
The room erupted with laughter.
"Yet, somehow, he got his act together—finally. Anyway, I went looking for a Hart card, and the 'Congratulations, We Knew You Could Do It" card didn't capture the spirit of his collegiate struggles. I bought it, regardless. However, if I had seen this Keep It Real card. It's about time!” She said. “Now, that's what I really wanted to say. I'd have been all over that like flies on a dog...well, you know."
Another round of chuckles followed.
"Hey, I'm keeping it real. See what I did there?" Marie continued. "Listen, he was driving the struggle bus. The whole family knew it, and he would've appreciated the humor, especially given he did graduate...eventually."
"I agree," the millennial said with a shrug. "Obviously, these cards aren't for everyone, but I can imagine a market exists for them. Some people will buy and appreciate them."
"Well, I disagree," the baby boomer said with her face screwed into a frown. "My mama always said, if you can't say something nice, keep your mouth shut. Just because you say something hurtful with a smile and a little bit of humor doesn't make it any less mean. You could have the best of intentions, but you never know what someone is thinking or feeling. You never know what might push people over the edge."
"A little deep for a graduation card, isn't it, Ma'am?" Marie asked.
Leona glared at her as if to say I said what I said.
"We'll just have to agree to disagree," Marie said. "As for me and my money, Keep It Real Cards can take me to the bank. Some of these cards gave me my whole life. Right now."
The millennial nodded. "Agreed. They can't have all of my money, but they can surely get some with the right message."
"And that, I think, will conclude this spirited but respectful discussion," Susan said. "Thank you all for your participation. We won't take up much more of your time. I'd like to wrap up with my first question. I asked you all to think about a time when you wanted to buy a card and couldn't find it. What would that card have said?"
The room grew silent before Alyssa spoke. "I have a friend, and she's in a wheelchair. She was paralyzed after a car accident. She always tells me she'd love to see herself represented on a card. I think some of the messaging can be similar to what exists now, but what about changing the images to make diverse the new normal, like a differently abled girl in a wheelchair? Maybe for a kid with Autism, you could change the message to something that doesn't rely on sentiment for them to understand."
Cody perked up in his seat and muttered, "Hmmm...a special needs…no specially abled line." He leaned back in his chair and allowed the thought to fester and then grow. Pulling off a collection so significant would require artists and writers with wells of kindness and heart. And this team would need the right leader, someone to nurture, motivate, and drive the employees and the direction of this new collection.
He clapped his hands and punched his fist in the air. "Perfect," he cheered. "Absolutely perfect."
Chapter Eleven
Tessa
* * *
Despite an unconscious wish for the night to take her, she'd survived. Now, her first day as part of Hart Enterprises lurked ahead of her, a day that would begin with a meeting with Kyle.
The struggle was real, too real.
Thick clouds stifled all but a few rays of sunlight, which mirrored her life. Cody owned Keep It Real, and her employees feared for their futures and paychecks. Her hope to begin a turnaround started in a few hours. She felt like the golden beam of light in her room had ridden out an ugly battle through the murky grays to find a home and easer her mind.
Finding the right outfit proved to be as challenging as accepting her fate, but ogling Kyle Anderson just might make up for the adversity.
In her closet, she pushed the hangers aside, suit after suit, until she finally settled on her royal blue Jackie-O-inspired number, a timeless favorite. The asymmetrical neckline and curve-hugging cut would raise Kyle's eyebrows—and a few among her team. Usually, Tessa and dresses didn't mix. When experiencing upheaval, she paced a lot, a habit better performed in pants. Then, again, she'd never met a man like Kyle Anderson.
The mere thought of seeing him again made her stomach flitter.
She spent part of the night stewing over her plan for their discussion. She'd strategized a way to reclaim full ownership of Keep It Real; she lacked one key ingredient to survive Hart Enterprises—an ally. She needed a “friendly” on her side, and then she'd position herself as an annoying distraction to keep Cody and Kyle off-balance while she plotted her way back to power. Tessa decided to present herself to Kyle as honey to a fly. Thanks to Cody, she'd handled men of his ilk, fancy COOs, all her life. Plus, a man like him had raised her.
On her way to work, her idea for Mr. Anderson materialized.
Once in the office, she searched the credenza behind her desk for the Keep It Real design plans that would help put her strategy into action. She'd use drawings to stall the move. She'd refuse to leave her headquarters until they implemented her ideas, and that demand may give her enough time to recruit her target and find a way out of this deal. She'd need to be strong, sharp, and on her guard. Tessa drummed her fingers on the desk as she waited impatiently for Kyle.
"Is it safe?" Tessa nearly jumped out of her skin when, through her brain fog, she heard the question along with a tap on the threshold.
"What in the—what is this?" she exclaimed.
She grasped her chest and crumbled with laughter.
On her guard? Not so much.
Kyle lurked at the door wearing protective headgear with a face shield and ear protection. "You look like a Storm Trooper. I felt my soul leave my body when you popped up."
He joined in the laughter. "Well, you said a bodyguard wouldn't do the trick, so I needed to do something to safeguard myself."
Her chuckles tapered off. "Well, unless you're expecting to defeat the Rebel Alliance, this get-up isn't going to do you much good, either." She gestured her hand toward a chair and offered him a seat. "Please, I promise not to hurt you...much."
With the tension broken, he obeyed her command. In his seat, he gave her a generous once-over before kicking off the integration discussions.
"Our conversation yesterday didn't end on a positive note,” he said. “So I stopped by Home Depot on the way in and dropped fifty bucks on this contraption, hoping for a better start to this one. Based on the width of your smile, I'd say it was money well spent."
She hated herself for blushing. It happened so quickly she couldn't stop the cheesy grin. She felt outed and a little naked and then comfortable again. That's when she realized the universe had listened and delivered. “You’re funny, not cheap, and prompt. If it were after six, you'd make a perfect date."
"Well, it's before nine a.m., and I'm just getting started." He flashed a smile for the ages, and the mere sight gave her a double-espresso rush.
"Shall we begin?" she said. "I thought about avoiding this meeting, but something told me if I didn't show up, you'd come back." Her effort to regain all the cool points she'd lost with her blush failed when another smile made her face warm all over again.
"I'm often accused of dogged persistence," he said.
"Good strategy. Paralyze resistance with insistence," she replied. "Heard the quote somewhere. Fits you well. But don't get beside yourself, I got started at four a.m. I've put considerable thought into our discussion, and I will amaze and confound you with my awesomeness."
Did I just flirt? She wanted to sound like she was on her game, not playing 'the dating' one. Ugh.
"Before we begin, can I offer you a doughnut, a bagel, some coffee?" Hot butt-naked sex? "I'm fully stacked...I mean, stocked."
Stacked? Blushing once more, she thanked her brown skin for not betraying her.
"Hmm. I could stand a bite," he said. His smile disappeared. "Maybe I'll take you up on your offer, but...later." He crossed his legs and eyed her from toes to nose, letting his gaze linger in the mid-range. "Right no
w, I've got everything I need." He held up his leather portfolio and pen as if that's what he really meant.
Please!
Then he snickered and offered a sultry look that suggested the only snack he wanted was sitting in front of him. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't on the menu, and the kitchen stock was all she'd planned to offer...for now.
He'd thoroughly checked her out, and whether or not he paid attention, she returned the favor—tenfold—from the moment he stepped in her office to this.
"Good. Shall we begin," she asked, moving into business mode.
"First, I'd like to preface this discussion by admitting some apprehension. Cody suggested you might be tough to handle...his words, not mine."
"Is that right?" She phased through reactions, first tilting her head to the side and then narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips. The nerve. She welcomed Kyle's transparency, though. Since he'd opted to "keep it real," she'd reward his honesty.
"First of all, I'd recommend you take anything Mr. Hart says about me with a grain of salt. His statement presumes an untruth—that he'd been among the privileged few who could, as you say, handle me. Trust me; he was never fortunate enough to make that list."
"Ouch.” He'd tried to stifle his laugh, but a little spilled through.
"Anyway, time is short. Let's get down to this integration discussion. I'd like to start with the fact that we'll need a new creative studio."
She passed Keep It Real's architectural layout drawings to Kyle as he explained his master plan. The lilt in his voice, a crisp, soothing tenor, consumed her thoughts. Their conversation forced her into a constant battle between business and distraction.
She heard his proposal, but she struggled to listen. The details became muddled and lost as her eyes roamed him, feasting on every visible part. She paid just enough attention to nod at appropriate intervals while keeping her eyes trained on his dreaminess.
His caramel skin popped against her black leather office seating. His eyes were problematic, round and hazel, and his lashes curled. His nose, more pointed than curved, betrayed his mixed heritage. With a steady gaze, she traced the line of his broad shoulders down across his sculpted chest into the "V" of his taut waist. Her eyes continued their delicious journey down his juicy, muscular thighs, snaking around his tailored slacks, which hugged his muscles in every right and perfect place.
He continued speaking, and she kept nodding. Her eyes meandered up to his lips, which, in the most serendipitous timing, she witnessed him glossing with his tongue. The gesture seemed more an unconscious habit than a calculated attempt to exude sexiness. He naturally and with ease achieved what would be a challenge for most men.
He played magnet to her metal, a state that left her drawn to him in a way she wanted to control but couldn't. Her only defense against his irresistible wiles was recalling the hard-learned lessons from mixing pleasure with Cody and work.
Don't.
Her dreams depended on it.
"So, your team should have access to the networks within the week," Kyle continued.
She'd suffered enough disappointment to last her three lifetimes. Seeing Kyle, perhaps desiring him, served as a stark reminder that even though five years had passed since her last tangle with love, she remained unable and unwilling to risk another heartbreak.
Not yet.
"Everyone should receive Hart Enterprises' email addresses and passwords via their existing accounts," he continued as she nodded. "They can use those to sign in to our collaboration site."
The reality of their situation allowed her to refocus her attention from his lips and eyes and thighs to his words. Unfortunately, most of what he told her for an hour remained a mystery. She found herself in a predicament, needing to maintain the appearance of professionalism while somehow asking him to repeat every word he'd just spoken.
This would be tricky.
"Sounds perfect," she replied. "With my busy schedule over the next few days, it would be great if you could send all these details to Mabel so she can help keep me straight."
"Completely understandable. Provide all the details to Mabel." He spoke the words aloud while jotting them on his notepad.
Mission accomplished, but she did bring up one final and substantive issue—the cornerstone of her stall tactics. "I know I mentioned this earlier, but I spent a year developing the proposal for our creative studio; it's warm and bright. It optimizes staff productivity—obviously, the antithesis of everything they've got over at Hart."
His brow furrowed. "Uh, well, I wouldn't say—"
"I know your business is—business. But, for creatives, the environment is critical. We spend a lot of long days and late nights working in our space. Sticking us in some dank cubicles over at Hart won't suffice."
"When's the last time you visited Hart?"
She shrugged.
He stood up, moved toward her glass wall, and surveyed her kingdom, giving her the perfect opportunity to take in his rearview.
"I see," he said. "Well, obviously, you've put a tremendous amount of effort into building Keep It Real. No doubt. The design is innovative. Coffee shop-inspired, right?"
"Exactly.” She smiled at his perceptiveness. He may be a weasel, but he was a charming one. "I need my team here, though. Not at Starbucks...although it helps to work outside of the office every now and again."
"The influence is undeniable. Tall counter-height tables and open seating to encourage collaboration. But also, comfortable, quiet stations along the periphery because sometimes you've got to live with your work in your own head."
Now her eyebrows furrowed. "Sounds like you speak from experience."
He didn't offer a direct response, just revealed that dangerous smile, causing her stomach to flutter. "I also like conference rooms equipped with interactive, digital whiteboards and iPads. Brilliant use of technology."
"What can I say? I'm a tech junkie. Sometimes the tools make the work more fun."
"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by what we can do with this at Hart. Now that I've actually taken in what you’ve got here, I'll start the ball rolling. How about I return in a couple of days with my facilities team to conduct an initial site survey and baseline connectivity assessment?" He jotted more notes in his portfolio. "After that, I'll work up a set of plans...for your approval, of course. It may take a few weeks, but, speaking for myself, I'm looking forward to your relocation."
"Please, take all the time you need." Humph. My approval. Cody wasn't slick. She could see though this tactic as if she had X-ray vision; he’d used Kyle to make it seem as if she had some authority when she didn't. No matter. She still chalked up a score in her column as she'd achieved both of her goals—stalled the move and wooed an ally.
Still, the beginning of a life at Hart meant the end of the Keep It Real she'd built and loved, the thought of which seared through her like hot steel. But Tessa could do nothing but smile at Kyle, at the expression he gifted her, at the man he was, at the way he made her feel for that brief time. He helped her remember something she thought she’d forgotten, even if they were only meant to share stolen glances.
She drew herself back from fantasy to reality and shook off the afterglow from her time spent with him to focus on the real prize. If all went according to plan, his attempt to replicate her design would take months. By the time he completed renovations on her Hart office space, she'd have regained ownership of her company, and she'd tell Cody where he could shove his integration.
She glanced at her watch. "Wow, just under an hour. I guess you can head back to school and report to the principal that I remained on my best behavior."
"Indeed, you did." Kyle chuckled, rose to his feet, and glided toward the door. "I'm sure he'll be disappointed. I wasn't. Although, I don't think I'd mind seeing you misbehave."
Wait. What? Did he just flirt?
"In fact, would you consider dinner? You and me? I promise I'll be on my best behavior...unless you request otherwise."
&n
bsp; Why, yes, he did!
Her knees nearly buckled from the shock. Her heartbeat skipped, stomach butterflies fluttered, and her eyelashes batted. "Dinner?" Her voice sounded coyer than she intended.
"Yes. You know, food, drinks...dessert," he replied.
"Mmm. I'm not sure this is a good time. I've got so much to do."
"Sometimes, you have to set the work aside and put yourself first. Let me help you do that. It's all aboveboard and legal, and certainly not against company rules. After all, we don't report to one another."
"Sounds like you've thought of everything. How can I resist?"
"You can't. I'll pick you up here. Six?"
She smiled and nodded. "You're on." She sent her sweetness into overdrive with a flirtatious, wiggle-finger wave as he strolled away. She kept her eyes peeled on the back of him until he disappeared.
"Mhm. Mhm. Mhm," she muttered. "Well, what do you know? I've got a date!"
She'd gone out with men since Cody, but they weren't "Kyle" by any stretch of the imagination.
Mia appeared from nowhere, disrupting her line of sight. She glanced back over her shoulder to see what Tessa was looking at and shot her a suspicious smirk. "Oh, you are so cold busted. Drool much?"
Tessa chuckled and swatted the air.
"Can't say I blame you,” Mia continued. “That man is fiiiiiine. Woo-wee!"
Tessa refused to offer Mia the reaction she wanted but mentally acknowledged she hadn't been anything but honest. "Before you allow the thought of him to set your drawers ablaze,” Tessa said, “remember he's in the enemy camp, explicitly sent here to spy on me...us."
"You don't know that."
"Oh, yes, I do. He confessed...through both of those very shapely lips."
