by Donya Lynne
And then the words begin spilling out of me. As we nibble on crepes filled with the most succulent, sweetest strawberry and rhubarb compote I’ve ever wrapped around my taste buds, I relay the events of the night before.
Jess hangs on every word, the smarmy, mother-hen grin never leaving her face.
“And he wants to see you again?” she asks once I’m finished.
“That’s what he said.” I only hope that he hasn’t changed his mind.
“When?”
I shrug and take a sip of my orange cream mimosa. “I haven’t heard from him, yet. But it hasn’t even been twelve hours, so—”
My phone dings with a text.
Jess sucks in an excited breath and leans across the table, glancing at my phone. “Maybe that’s him.”
I check my messages.
Greyson: Thinking of you, much to the detriment of my work.
Talk about giddy girly parts. Flames lick me between the legs, and a smile lights up my face.
“Is it him?” Jess says with excited curiosity.
I nod and type out a reply.
Katherine: Thinking of you, too. Are you seriously working on a Sunday?
I can’t stop smiling. I bite my lip as I set my phone back on the table.
“What did he want?” Jess asks.
“To tell me he was thinking of me.”
“And what did you text back?”
“That I was thinking of him, too.”
God, we’re like sixth-grade girls giggling over the adolescent boys we have crushes on.
My phone dings again.
Greyson: I’d rather be spending the day with you, getting to know you better.
My heart flutters.
Katherine: Is that an invitation?
What is it about Greyson that turns me into such an impassioned flirt? I simply can’t help myself with him.
Greyson: Don’t tempt me.
Katherine: Just call me the serpent in the Garden of Eden.
Greyson: After what we did last night, I’m not sure either of us should be making biblical references.
Katherine: Good point. I still want to tempt you away from your work, though.
Greyson: If only I could. I have a meeting tomorrow and need to prepare. How about Friday? Dinner?
Friday seems so far away, but I’m thrilled he wants to see me again.
“He wants to have dinner with me on Friday,” I tell Jess.
Her eyes light up. “You need to wear that little red dress that hits above the knee and—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m keeping it demure. No more of this having sex like I’m some crazed teenage nympho.”
“Like I said earlier, isn’t that the whole point of these summer flings? Sex and lots of it, right?”
“Yes, but I’d at least like to get to know him first. We still haven’t even exchanged last names.” I bob my head sharply as if stamping my decision. “I’m going to have dinner with him, and I’m going to keep my clothes on, and I’m going to get to know him and let him get to know me. I’m going to prove to him that I am a proper lady and that I do know how to behave myself. That I’m not some floozy who can’t keep her legs together.”
The tableside chef chooses that moment to arrive and make our bananas foster. At least Jess has something to entertain her while I text my reply to Greyson.
Katherine: I’d love to have dinner with you. When and where?
If I meet him, I won’t be tempted to invite him in when he takes me home at the end of the date.
Greyson: I can pick you up. Give me your address.
He’s going to make this hard, but I’m sticking to my guns.
Katherine: I’d prefer to meet you somewhere.
Greyson: Afraid I might be a serial killer?
Katherine: I just think it would be a better idea to meet you. That way you don’t have to take me home, and I don’t have to resist asking you inside for a “nightcap.”
Greyson: Was last night a “nightcap”?
Oh, he’s a smart one, this Greyson. I decide not to answer his question and get right to the point.
Katherine: I want to prove I can behave. Last night was fun, but I don’t want you to think I’m easy.
What I really want is to prove I can go an hour without jumping his bones . . . and his very impressive bone.
Greyson: Easy is the last thing I think you are.
Before I can reply, I receive another text from him.
Greyson: But I agree. I want to prove I can behave, too. Although that might prove challenging with you.
His text makes me smile.
Katherine: I know the feeling. So tell me when and where.
Greyson: How about the Red Room? Seven o’clock?
The Red Room is an elegant restaurant that serves a variety of multicourse meals. I’ve been there with a group of friends where the entire meal was comprised of amuse-bouche servings. Twenty-one courses of bite-sized servings followed by a trio of tiny cakes decorated with the flair and panache of modern art.
Once a month, the Red Room closes off half their dining space to serve what’s called Meal in the Dark. They shut out all light, and for a couple of hours, your sense of sight is completely useless. You’re totally blind and must rely on your sense of touch to eat. I hear it’s quite the experience.
Katherine: Sounds lovely. I’ll see you then.
I drop my phone in my purse and smile up at Jess.
“Well . . .?”
“We have a dinner date.”
“And you’re going to play hard to get, aren’t you?” Jess critically narrows her eyes and spoons a bite of bananas foster into her mouth.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m breaking the rules.”
“Aren’t you?” She swirls her spoon inside her brandy snifter full of sweet, melty goodness.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that you’re usually all about one thing with these guys, but you’re different with Greyson.” She tilts her head. “You like him.”
“Of course I do.”
“No, I mean, you really like him. You’re not thinking about keeping this one, are you?”
I gasp. “No, of course not.”
“Are you sure? Because there’s nothing wrong with that if you are.”
I shake my head, digging out a caramel-coated flambéed banana from my glass. “Greyson is no different than the other four men I’ve done this with.” It’s such a lie that I’m not even sure I believe it, but I can’t make an exception, not even for a man as fine as Greyson. “When Christian and Rose return from spending the summer with Phil, one way or another, I’ll be single again.”
I see how my kids react to Phil’s girlfriend, Mia. I hear the foul tones in their voices when they talk about her. They hate her. They only spend their summers in California because it’s the only time they get to see their dad, and he lives in a big enough house they don’t have to see much of Mia. But I know they feel like they’re infringing on Phil and Mia’s relationship while they’re there. I don’t want them to feel that way during the ten months out of the year they spend with me. That’s why I only date in the summer. Because my fall, winter, and spring need to be completely devoted to my kids.
“You know,” Jess says, “someday Christian and Rose will go off to college and move out. What will you do then?”
“I guess I’ll figure that out when the time comes.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What are you suggesting?”
She shrugs and shakes her head sympathetically. “Kate, a lot of divorced mothers have boyfriends and get remarried. There’s nothing saying you have to stay single for your kids.”
I gulp down the nibble of ice cream and caramel I just spooned into my mouth. “My kids have already been through enough.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Haven’t you b
een through enough?” She sets down her glass. “I see how you talk about this Greyson guy. I see how your eyes light up. I can tell he’s different.”
“So?”
“So, maybe you can have more than just a summer with Greyson.”
I huff. “I’ve known him less than twenty-four hours, Jess. Don’t go trying to marry me off to him already.”
“I’m not. I just think you need to loosen up. I mean, go get him if you want him. And if you continue wanting him at the end of summer, don’t let him go. See how he does around your kids. Maybe your kids will like him. If they don’t, then you can give him the boot.”
She makes it sound so easy, but I know better.
Chapter 10
Monday
Katherine
“Good morning, sweetheart.” My dad strolls into my new office—his old one—while I’m still unpacking.
“What are you doing here?” I step forward and hug him. “You should be enjoying your retirement.”
He did so well keeping his retirement a secret that his announcement Friday afternoon came as a surprise to the entire office. However, his subsequent announcement that I was succeeding him provided a mixed reaction. Most were pleased. Some didn’t seem affected at all. A few reacted with bemusement, as if they weren’t sure how to process the chain of command now that Dad was stepping down.
And then there was Phil, who e-mailed what I’m sure he thought was a cute joke.
There goes the company. Congrats on the promotion. I guess it’s time to get my résumé in order.
Ass.
But yes, if not for my dad, he would most definitely need to get his résumé updated. I would like nothing more than to hand him his walking papers, but I did promise my dad I wouldn’t fire him unless he did something that warranted it.
My dad laughs heartily and lets his gaze travel around the room at the file boxes stacked by the large mahogany desk. “Trying to get rid of me so soon, honey?”
“Of course not. I just thought you’d at least enjoy your first week as a free man before wandering back into the office.”
He sits down in the leather wing chair in front of the desk. “When you run a business, you’re never truly free, not even when you retire. Now that you’re in charge, you’ll find that out soon enough.”
Something in his tone strikes a chord inside me, and not necessarily a good one. My job before taking over was time-consuming enough. I know what I’m getting into by taking over as CEO, but this is the first time I’ve ever felt a pang of regret about the extra time I’ll be taking away from my kids.
All the more reason to make sure Greyson doesn’t become a permanent fixture in my life.
I sit in the rich leather chair behind the desk and gesture toward the stack in my inbox. It’s twice as high as it was when I got here this morning. “I already am finding out, Dad.”
He grins and nods. “That you are.” He pulls out his phone and taps the screen. “But you’ll do fine.” He waves his fingers at my growing mountain of responsibilities, keeping his face tilted to his phone. “Although . . .” His gaze lifts apologetically to mine. How does my dad still appear so young and playful when he’s sixty years old and has a full head of distinguished silver hair? “What I’m about to discuss with you isn’t going to make your life any easier. This isn’t merely a social visit. You and I have business to talk about.”
I prop myself forward and fold my arms over the polished wood of my new desk. I had a feeling there was more to his stopping by than to see how I was getting along on my first day as CEO.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“There are a few meetings on my calendar I need you to take in my place.” He scrolls his finger up the screen of his phone as if he’s perusing his calendar.
I pull up mine, and we begin going through each meeting one by one. Mostly boring stuff. Product line reviews, operational discussions, updates on the Harness technology, and what I call glad-handing meetings, which are meetings intended primarily to keep up relations with customers and vendors. How does anyone get anything done with so many meetings to attend?
We’ve been discussing his calendar for thirty minutes when my dad sits forward and takes on a more serious air. I immediately straighten, even though I have no idea what caused his change in demeanor.
“Tonight,” he says, eyeing his screen, “I was supposed to meet with Mr. James from Rugged.” A shadow of emotion I can’t pinpoint crosses my dad’s face. Reticence? Discomfort? I’m not sure what to make of whatever has caused his unease.
“Rugged?” I know the company, but I have never met Mr. James. Hell, I don’t even think I’ve seen him. He’s notoriously private. So much so that I can’t even remember his first name, even though I feel like it’s right on the tip of my tongue. “What does he want to talk to you about?” I have a feeling I’m not going to like the answer.
My dad tilts his head forward. “I think the question you should be asking is what does he want to talk to you about.”
Looks like Dad wants me to take this meeting, too.
“Okay, so what will Mr. James and I be talking about this evening?”
Without preamble, he says, “I suspect he wants to buy the company.”
I stiffen. “You aren’t planning on selling, are you?”
My dad shakes his head and relaxes. “My job now is to offer my advice and guidance, not make decisions for the company.”
“But—”
“Honey, you’ve been with me since you graduated college. You’ve helped run Freedom for over ten years. We discussed this. That once I retired, you would be the one making the decisions, not me. You’re more than capable. If Rugged wants to buy Freedom, you need to determine if it’s in the best interests for the company or not and decide accordingly.”
My dad has never been egomaniacal about wielding an iron fist over the company. He put people he trusted in place to make the best decisions, and then he allowed those people to function without him micromanaging them. It was a recipe for success that served him and the company well.
“My time to run this company is over, sweetheart.” He tucks his phone into his pocket. “What happens to Freedom is now in your hands.”
I cross my arms. “Well, I don’t want to sell the company. Mr. James can go screw himself.”
My dad laughs. “You’ve always been a feisty one, Kate. But remember, this is business. It’s not personal. Don’t make hasty decisions based on personal feelings.”
“Are you talking about Phil or Mr. James?”
“Does it matter?”
I sigh and tilt my head to the side. “You make it sound like I should be interested in hearing what he has to say.”
My dad makes a face that says that’s exactly what he expects. “Rugged is a good company. They’re international and could do good things for Freedom, given the right deal.” He clears his throat and brushes his palm over his slacks as if clearing away lint, but I see no lint on his pant leg. “Mr. James has done a phenomenal job making Rugged a success.”
“Do you know him?” The way he’s acting, there is definitely a relationship of some kind between my dad and Mr. James.
My dad smiles tightly. “Not personally.”
“But you do know him.”
His lips form a thin line, and he checks his watch as if he’s late for something. “I should let you get back to work.” He plants his hands on the arms of the chair and pushes to his feet. “I have a two o’clock tee time, and I’m keeping you from your inbox.” He gestures toward the pile resting at the corner of my desk.
I stand and round the desk. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He kisses my cheek. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Katy.” He starts for the door.
Whatever my dad knows about Mr. James, I’m going to have to figure it out on my own.
“So, what time is this meeting I’m meant to piss on?” Because no, I will not entertain any discussion about selling the company. Mr. James
can suck it.
“Eight o’clock. Gochet Arlain.”
“Gochet Arlain is a little over-the-top for a business meeting, don’t you think?”
My dad shrugs. “I think he wants to make a good impression.”
Mr. James can’t make a good enough impression to make me want to sell the company, so he may as well have scheduled the meeting at McDonald’s. It would have saved him a lot of money.
For that matter, perhaps I should cancel. After all, it’s my meeting now, not my father’s.
“Don’t cancel,” my dad says, as if he’s reading my thoughts.
I’ve never had a good poker face.
I cross my arms. “It’s just going to be a waste of time for both of us if I go.”
“You still need to go, waste of time or not. Rugged could make a good ally.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just that Rugged isn’t the only company interested in acquiring Freedom.”
I frown. “Who else is—?”
He cuts me off with a smile and another peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry about it right now. Meet with Mr. James, keep your ears open, and don’t get wrapped up in making an emotional decision. We’ll talk about it this weekend.”
His retirement party is this weekend. We didn’t plan anything fancy. Dad didn’t want a fuss, so we’re having a simple, private cookout at his place. Just family and a few close friends.
“Sure, Dad.” I hug him. “But don’t count on there being a lot to discuss. I won’t sell.”
He smiles and winks. “We’ll see.”
Chapter 11
Katherine
I arrive at Gochet Arlain five minutes before eight, feeling completely unprepared. I tried to find fifteen minutes all afternoon to do research on Rugged and Mr. James, but every time I turned around, someone needed something or the phone was ringing. A million and one people called today to congratulate me on being named Freedom’s new CEO and to inquire about what my dad was going to do now that he was retired, but all I wanted was to unpack my office and tackle my inboxes—the one on my desk, the one in my e-mail, and the one in my voicemail.
