The Blind Date

by Alice Ward

  “In college. She was a cute co-ed but obsessed with saving the environment. She was actually protesting in the student center and got on my case for using Styrofoam. She told me I was killing the children of the future. It was that passion that got me.” He grinned. “I asked her out right there. I have no idea why she said yes, but she did. I think she hoped to convince me to see the light. I ended up seeing a lot more than that, that night.”

  He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Dad,” I laughed awkwardly. “TMI.”

  “Well, I can’t wait for this meeting then,” he said with a smile. “Juliana, you said her name was?”

  I nodded, half wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. My father would now be giving me eyes the entire time. Just what I needed.

  I quickly changed the subject. “Up for a few rounds of golf today?”

  He nodded. My father had kept his membership at Piping Rock, just for that reason, so I wasn’t surprised. “Always, my boy. Always.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Juliana

  I am not going to throw up again.

  I’d been up since three in the morning, dry heaving over the toilet with thoughts of this meeting.

  The open forum had been bad enough. But now, with the knowledge I’d be presenting in front of Zach Vaughn, I was practically immobilized by fear.

  Now, here, in the downstairs boardroom of Vaughn Industries, everything was wrong with me. The air conditioning was freezing, but I still felt hot in places. I had the worst migraine coming on. The bags under my eyes were heavy and purplish.

  Though I’d tried to dress for success, my confidence wavered as the caterer delivered the last of the food I’d ordered.

  Everything was ready, and yet I felt enormously unprepared, like I’d forgotten something.

  All I could think of was seeing Zachary again.

  Presenting in front of him.

  Oh, god.

  My mind flew back to that dream of him, fucking me at the open forum. I’d had several more sex dreams about him since then, each one more erotic than the next. In most of them, his snack cakes were involved. Smashing them against each other’s skin, licking them off… oh, there was a lot of licking.

  It was a good thing they weren’t real, or I’d probably have gained twenty pounds this week alone.

  “Miss Hurley?” the caterer said to me, jerking me from my thoughts. “It’s all prepared.”

  I studied the buffet set out along a wall of windows overlooking an open courtyard with a fountain. I’d arranged a fan of napkins and plates the same teal blue that comprised the Vaughn Industries logo. I opened each tray and made sure that the presentation was just right. There were frozen pizzas with a cauliflower crust that were half the carbs but twice the protein of their regular Super Pizza Pockets. Macaroni and cheese with no preservatives or yellow dye. A decadent bleu cheese salad dressing with absolutely no fat. For dessert, a rolled snack cake meant to rival the Heigh-di-Ho but completely organic and with half the calories. Added to that, a little crudité, since I never did anything without a crudité, complete with hummus dip, and even I had to admit, it was a pretty nice spread.

  “It looks wonderful, thank you,” I said to him, smiling.

  “Fingers crossed they think it tastes wonderful,” he said, shaking my hand and leaving me alone in the cavernous room.

  I took a deep breath as the door opened and in walked Zachary.

  God, it was totally not fair how hot he was.

  He looked effortlessly sexy in his three-piece suit. His eyes fixed on me as he crossed the room to me. He was followed by an older man who was maybe a couple inches shorter but had Zachary’s same green eyes. I knew it had to be his dad.

  “Hello, Juliana,” he said, surveying the buffet as I listened to my heart beating its way out of my chest. How could he be so calm? So together? “You ready? Find the place all right?”

  I nodded, trying to vanquish memories of his tongue on me from my brain. I was desperate to ask him about the money in my purse, but now wasn’t the time. “Of course.”

  He stepped aside. “Let me introduce you to my father, Devon Vaughn. This is Juliana Hurley, a nutritionist at Healthy Steps in the city.”

  He smiled warmly, and when I shook his hand, I hoped he didn’t feel how sweaty it was. I forced a smile on my face. “Pleasure.”

  Inhaling deeply, he patted his stomach. “Something smells delicious.”

  “Thank you. Well, I figured, what good is presenting on the deliciousness and inexpensiveness of healthy foods without providing actual proof?” I said, trying to stop my teeth from chattering. “So, I’ve provided a buffet.”

  His father nodded. Where his mother had nearly scared the living daylights out of me, I was relieved that his father seemed normal, even pleasant. When he linked his arm through mine and guided me to sit in a chair at the head of the table next to him, I relaxed even more.

  “So, Juliana, Zachary has told me all about you,” he said jovially.

  I glanced over at Zachary, who was across the room, propping open the door for the rest of the board. “He has?”

  “All good things. Says you’re on a crusade to bring healthy food to the schools?”

  I nodded. “It’s a pet project of mine. A majority of students in the city rely on the school system as their main source of nutrition,” I started, beginning my speech. “But I’ll talk more on that later.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  The rest of the board filtered in. All men, each one in stiff business attire. Definitely a boy’s club. I counted thirty of them, and Zachary greeted each one of them with a firm handshake. They were mostly older, nearing retirement, but then a younger man entered. He looked familiar.

  As I watched Zachary talk to him, it came to me. I’d been introduced to him at the gala. If I remembered correctly, his name was Gavin, the man Zachary said was his best friend. He looked much more relaxed and less formal than the rest of the group as he pulled out a chair and sank into it. When his eyes found mine, I smiled and waved.

  His lips turned up, but there was something almost predatory in the grin. He winked, and I looked away, embarrassed by his close attention.

  Once the men sat, Zachary stood behind the chair on the other side of his father.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said, his voice calm and assured. “Thank you for joining us here today. Without further ado, I’d like to jump into this month’s agenda, turning the floor over to Juliana Hurley, a nutritionist at Healthy Steps, who I invited here today to speak to us.”

  An older man with a nearly bald head looked at me over his bifocals and groused, “A nutritionist? Seriously? I’m not sure what this can add to the conversation.”

  “Yes,” Zachary said. “We’ve been attacked on all sides about the nutritional aspect of our food. This is our chance to do something about it, Ed.”

  The bald man crossed his arms, and his gaze drifted over to me. “With all due respect, Zach, we’ve had that chance at least three times before in your father’s tenure. It comes up at least once a decade.”

  Some of the men nodded in agreement.

  “You’re not too young to remember the Guiltless Goods fiasco. And before that, it was the GoodSnacks. Before that, there were other experiments. But no one can get past the fact that these things all taste like cardboard.” He looked back at the other men, who were nodding at him. “I think we all have to agree at this point that we’re not going to be known as a health food company, cut our losses, and stick with what we do best.”

  Zachary opened his mouth to speak, but I pushed my chair from the table and stood before he could. “I understand your position, really I do,” I began. “But today’s environment is downright hostile toward food providers who are entrusted in bringing nutrition to our schools. If you continue with that image, you’re going to be barred from the schools.”

  “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. We provide those meals for free. If they don’t w
ant them—”

  I held up a hand. “They do want them, I promise you that. But they would love for what you offer to not be so nutritionally void at the same time. But rather than pulling your support, here’s a chance to do something and be seen as a hero, not the enemy.”

  Ed shook his head. “Like what?”

  “There are new ingredients that have become widely available in only the last few years that are healthy and good for you. That’s why I put together a buffet of products I’d like you to sample.”

  Thirty sets of doubtful eyes scraped over me.

  “If you will each visit the buffet, you’ll notice two trays of identical looking products. I ask you to take one helping from each and compare them. One of the items is your own Vaughn Industries recipe, something that is served in schools today. The other is a version I created, that has, in most cases, half the fat, half the carbs, and loads of hidden vegetables.”

  Grumbling to each other, Ed and the other men all stood and walked over to the buffet. Under the table, I wiped my sweat slickened hands on my skirt. I was about to stand as Zachary leaned into me. “Impressive, Miss Hurley.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him. He wasn’t holding a plate or any of my food. “Have you even tried the samples yet?”

  “I was talking about you,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear.

  Smiling, I stood and walked toward the windows to get some air as the men continued to fill their plates. As I did, I watched as a man sampled one of my Pizza Pocket knockoffs, chock full of spinach and carrot puree, and nodded, eyebrows raised.

  That was a good sign.

  But oh, my heart was racing. The temperature in the room was like a sauna, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was nervous or because of Zachary. Or both.

  I took a few cleansing breaths as I stared out at the fountain, and then turned, ready to face the music.

  Gavin was standing in front of me, holding a plate of my food. “Hey, Jule, don’t let me down…” he sang.

  “Jude,” I corrected him. “The Beatles song is ‘Hey Jude.’ My name is Juliana.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever. Damn, this food is good. Where’d a girl with such talents as yourself learn to cook like that?”

  A girl with such talents as myself? What did that mean? I had a feeling I could say anything, and he would be into it. “I didn’t make it. I had a caterer make it with recipes I provided.”

  “Oh yeah?” It didn’t seem like he was paying attention. No, his eyes were running up and down my body, mentally undressing me.

  Really?

  What… did Zach tell him the intimate details about us? About our one-night stand?

  My face heated. This was just what I needed right before my presentation. I suddenly wanted to clock Zach in the face. Did grown men really share the lurid details of their sexual escapades like that? And here I thought he was so much more mature than your average high school kid.

  I wanted to escape Gavin, but he leaned in closer. Too close for a business meeting.

  “So… what? This nutrition gig of yours doesn’t pay enough to keep you in the lifestyle to which you’re accustomed? Is that it?” His voice was low and oozed sex. He thought he was a charmer.

  And yeah, he was a good-looking guy. I was sure he charmed many a woman.

  But this was a business meeting.

  And maybe I wasn’t his best friend’s girlfriend, but we’d been together, at least.

  And what the hell was he talking about? The lifestyle to which I was accustomed?

  “I’m sorry…” I began, confused. “What are you—”

  Before I could get the word out, he reached toward me, his hand driving straight for my heart. I couldn’t flinch or move away. I didn’t have the time.

  Something scraped the skin over my camisole, just where the swell of my breast was. I looked down as he removed his hand, shock and utter disbelief combining with the nerves I’d already been feeling.

  It was a hundred-dollar bill.

  I was about to say what the fuck, but he whispered in my ear before I could. “Down payment.” His eyes fell to my lips. “For when you’re finally bored of the same guy.”

  My jaw dropped. Down payment? Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

  Now, the predatory grin made sense. He thought he could own me.

  He leaned in closer to me and managed to get his arm around me. It slid down, cupping my ass as he leaned in so close that I could feel the muscles of his chest pressing against my arm. “Are you bored now? I can arrange to take you away from all this.”

  “I-I-I…” I stammered, looking across the room. Zach was holding a plate piled with vegetables and speaking with his father, but he straightened, his jovial smile melting away when he saw me. He headed my way. I looked back at Gavin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What’s going on?” Zachary asked as he approached us.

  “Nothing.” Gavin backed away, holding up his hand. The plate of food nearly tipped over in the other one.

  I frowned at him. A hundred fucking dollars in my blouse as a down payment sure seemed like more than nothing to me. “I don’t know,” I said in a whisper. “Maybe you—”

  “Miss Hurley?” I turned. Zachary’s father was beckoning to me. All the men were seated with their plates, and most of them had finished. “If we’re going to stay on schedule, you’ll need to present now.”

  I needed to pull my shit together. This bit of drama could wait. “Right.”

  Zach was staring intently at me, wanting to know what was going on. I tore myself away from him and walked to the head of the table, where I’d prepared my presentation.

  Wow, if I thought presenting at the open forum would be hard, this was doubly difficult. Not only did I have a hundred dollars stuffed down my shirt, Zachary was in the room, and his best friend was leering at me like he wanted to bend me over the boardroom table and take me right there.

  He thought I was a prostitute. It was the only conclusion I could come to.

  Had Zachary told him that I was a prostitute? Really?

  Why?

  No. I refused to obsess and let this take up real estate in my head. I wasn’t that mousy little high school girl who just stood there and took a beating. Hell, it’d taken me twenty-three years, but I’d finally told my mother off.

  I was a warrior.

  I’d fucking beat the shit out of this presentation.

  And I wasn’t going to let Zachary Vaughn get in my way. No matter how delicious he looked in that suit, no matter how much he and his best friend messed with my mind.

  I had this.

  I clasped my hands in front of me as I smiled at the men. “Well, gentlemen. I’d like to know how you enjoyed the buffet and our little taste test.”

  They all nodded. A few murmured that the food was all very good.

  “Which did you like better?”

  A few shouted that they were exactly the same. I went around the room, collecting the tally. But A was the clear winner, receiving twenty-two votes, while B only received eight.

  “So, was anyone able to tell which, A or B, was the Vaughn recipe?” I looked around the room.

  Some of the men shook their heads. Others murmured “no.” Some hazarded a guess by shouting out either A or B.

  I’d done just what I set out to do. I’d stumped them all.

  “Those who guessed B are correct, but there were not many of you,” I said with a smile.

  One of the men said, “I think A tasted even better than ours!”

  “This little experiment is all well and good,” Ed said. “And I admit that your product is superior to ours, taste-wise. Perhaps even nutrition-wise. But mass-producing these products is a different story. We have to do it at a lower price point that’s attractive to the average consumer.”

  I held up a finger. “I’ll get to that.”

  I motioned to lower the lights and started with the first slide of my presentation. I stro
de to the whiteboard and let out a long breath. “In the past two decades, the number of American children who are obese has tripled. Now, one in five children is considered not just overweight, but obese. This is a trend that needs to stop.”

  I took a deep breath as I glanced at Zachary. He was looking not at the slides but at me. He was holding the same piece of celery he’d been eating ten minutes ago, one small bite gnawed out of the end of it. Something told me he didn’t do veggies.

  And there was a peculiar expression on his face. He looked… guilty?

  Serves you right, for telling your friends I was for sale.

  Why had he done that? It didn’t make any sense.

  As I went over some other startling statistics on obesity, something his mother had said at the gala suddenly struck me: Surprise, surprise. One of these days, perhaps you’ll have an inkling to invite the same woman out twice?

  Had his mother thought I was a prostitute?

  The way she’d looked at me, I wouldn’t have doubted it.

  Oh, god.

  Why? Why did his best friend and mother think I was a prostitute?

  The only possible excuse that I could come up with? Because he’d hired them before. Maybe that was all he ever went out with. He didn’t want the commitment, and so he hired women, expecting to fuck their brains out at the end of the night.

  Which was just what I did.

  Like a blow to the head, it came to me.

  The money in my purse.

  God, the money. At Terra, he hadn’t been looking for a blind date. He was looking for his prostitute. No, wait. They didn’t call the high-class ones prostitutes. They called them call girls. No… escorts.

  Oh, god god god. Was that what he thought I was when he dressed me up like his little rag doll and paraded me in front of his associates at that gala? A freaking escort?

  I gripped the back of one of the chairs in my sweaty hands and forced myself to concentrate as I flipped through the next slides.

  I’m a nutritionist! A respectable woman! I am not someone who fucks the free world for money. Wasn’t it obvious to him that night that I didn’t know what I was doing?

  Someone cleared their throat, and I snapped back to attention. Straightening my shoulders, I continued my presentation, determined now, more than ever, to do this right.