by Sandra Kitt
“Whoa. I don’t know about that last one. Just acknowledging them didn’t fly with the trustees last year,” Kyra warned.
“Well, I’ll have to remind them and the president that a very well-known gay journalist who graduated from Hollington with top honors and has a flourishing career gives to the college. He’s going to be at the Friday night party. We can’t leave him out or make him invisible.” Kyra continued to look skeptical and raised her brows. “Don’t worry. It’ll happen,” Chloe said confidently.
“If you say so. Now,” Kyra said, getting comfortable in her desk chair, scooting closer to the desk and staring at Chloe with an almost-childlike excitement, “what about the big dance on Saturday after the game? Have you found a place for that yet?”
“I’m considering several—”
“Don’t need to. Book Bollito.”
Chloe felt an odd little flutter in her chest at the mention of one of the hottest clubs in Atlanta. Housed in what appeared to be an industrial box that was formerly a manufacturing warehouse, the club had opened to rave reviews just a few years earlier.
“I know you’ve been there. Everybody within a hundred miles of Atlanta has come in for dinner and dancing. It’s a huge club space, but you don’t get that feeling. There are five full floors and each floor has its own kind of decor and music. The concept is brilliant, but that’s Kevin for you. He always comes up with the big ideas. You have to talk with him and get him to agree to use Bollito for the Saturday night dance. It’s perfect.”
Chloe was glad that Kyra had so much to say about Kevin Stayton’s club in downtown Atlanta. It gave her enough time to gather her wits and come up with a response. Of course Bollito was a great choice of venues. She didn’t object to that. She was having an adolescentlike moment at the thought of dealing with Kevin. And it wasn’t like they’d known each other as students. But their few encounters together had been profound. Simple and as brief as the moments had been, Chloe realized that she had lived with the memories of those moments for ten years.
“Like I was about to say, it’s on the list—”
“No, no, no, no…” Kyra said repeatedly, shaking her head and dismissing Chloe’s explanations. “That was not a suggestion, Chloe. You have to book Bollito. Think about what it’s going to be like to have it listed on the program. Think about the press. Bollito is way hot right now. It’s impossible to book it for private functions, but Kevin is one of us. A ninety-niner!”
Chloe found herself laughing at Kyra’s enthusiasm and logic. The truth of the matter was, Bollito would be perfect. But Bollito was not the problem.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m working on a proposal to send to Kevin.”
“You need to talk to Kevin. I can’t imagine him saying no. He better not.” Kyra brightened suddenly. “You know what? I’m going to call him right now and set it up.”
Despite Kyra’s small size it was clear to Chloe that Hollington had chosen well in making her the director of PR. She had exactly what the job needed. Not taking no for an answer but with charm and good humor.
“Hi. This is Kyra Dixon. I’m PR director for Hollington College.”
Chloe stared down at her hands, feigning indifference but listening to every word of the one-way conversation.
“Is Kevin available?…Oh…Will he be back soon?…You’re not sure.”
Suddenly, Chloe reached over the desk and, to Kyra’s obvious surprise, took the phone out of her hand.
“Hi. I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Chloe Jackson, president of RSVP. I’m an event planner here in Atlanta. Perhaps I should be asking about Mr. Stayton, although I appreciate Ms. Dixon making the call. I understand he’s not in, but I’m hoping he’ll spare me some time this afternoon. Tell him—” she glanced at Kyra “—tell Kevin that I have a business proposition for him. It’s about our homecoming weekend in October. We graduated from Hollington the same year…Yes, yes, that is kind of funny, isn’t it?”
Chloe looked at Kyra and found her rolling her eyes. She had to grin.
“I’m hoping that Kevin can see me this afternoon…Yes, I know how busy he is. The man practically supports the economy of Atlanta all by himself. But, this is important, and I know Kevin would want to be in on the discussions. Why don’t I come over in say…” She looked at her watch. “About an hour?…No, I won’t stay long. This is just a getting-back-in-touch meeting. Yes, I really appreciate your assistance.”
Sensing that the call was about to end, Kyra snatched back the phone.
“Now, don’t let Kevin yell at you because you messed with his schedule this afternoon.” She smiled and laughed into her phone. Winking at Chloe she gave her a thumbs-up.
“This is so kind of you. Ms. Jackson will be over within the hour. Bye.”
“Well, that wasn’t very businesslike,” Chloe mused. “I probably should have asked to stop by tomorrow, give myself more time to prepare.”
“Girl, you don’t need any more time. You need to get over to Kevin’s office, tell him we want to use his club for a party and send him a contract. And tell him if he’s going to be difficult he’ll have to deal with me!”
Chloe decided that however Kevin Stayton managed his multimillion-dollar enterprise, Stayton Investments, he certainly didn’t stand on ceremony. Upon arriving at Kevin’s office his assistant, Peg, didn’t hesitate to show her directly into his office and leave her on her own. Unasked, Peg had returned five minutes later with a bottle of chilled mineral water, a cut Baccarat crystal glass and a linen cocktail napkin on a glass tray. Chloe’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise and appreciation. The offering showed a lot of class.
Kevin’s offices turned out to be a full floor with several rooms and a comfortable, if small, reception area. It was above Flavor, the first restaurant he’d opened in Atlanta. It was the business that had put him on the map, built his customer base and garnered regional reviews. Chloe was surprised by how modest, but attractive, professional and efficient the office was. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected from someone with Kevin’s level of success.
Left alone Chloe remained standing, pacing and looking around. The office was comfortable with a good modern desk and chair. Against an adjacent wall was a leather love seat, a glass-and-chrome coffee table and two more side chairs to create a more informal area to receive guests. Just above the back of the love seat was a gallery of framed photographs, most taken of Kevin with, Chloe could see, entertainment royalty. She recognized Alicia Keys, Jesse Jackson, Adam Sandler, Scarlett Johansson, Jada Pinkett Smith and Will Smith.
The office was neat and orderly; “a place for everything, and everything in its place” went through her mind. There were contracts, delivery receipts and inventory lists on his desk. There was a window-ledge-high bookcase behind Kevin’s chair organized with business magazines. At the base, strangely out of place, was a pair of soft leather loafers. A number of fancy glass and silver awards sat on his desk. With irreverence two were being used as paperweights. That made Chloe grin, and she attempted to relax. But she was ever mindful of the last time she and Kevin Stayton had seen one another. Without conscious thought her fingers touched her lips and she briefly enjoyed a memory that held steadfast and refused to go away.
The door suddenly opened, making Chloe start, and a man stood in the doorway clearly surprised at her presence. It was Kevin Stayton, dressed in running shorts, a sleeveless athletic tank top, a bandanna tied around his forehead and perspiration wet and shiny on his handsome face.
Dressed as he was it was easy to see Kevin was in superb shape. He hadn’t let his body go to fat as often happened in post-college years. If anything Kevin was even more handsome than the image that had been stored ten years in her memory bank. She started to speak, but Kevin turned in the doorway and called out.
“Peg? I don’t recall a meeting this…”
“You didn’t have one planned,” Chloe said, having recaptured her poise and confidence. “I’m sorry if I caught you—”
> “Undressed?” Kevin said with an unexpected show of humor.
“Unprepared. I understood you were expecting me.”
“You’re right. I probably forgot. Sorry for showing up hot and sweaty and in need of something cold to drink.”
Chloe blinked at him. He sounded more amused than annoyed by her appearance. And she reacted instinctively to his comment. She reached for the bottled water on the tray, opened it and held it out.
Kevin, whose gaze had barely left her face since he entered the room, glanced briefly at the water before accepting it. He took a swig that emptied half the contents. As Chloe watched, fascinated, the water rushed down his throat as was evident by his swallowing muscles. He let out a short satisfied sigh of repletion and ran his forearm along his chin to wipe the sweat away.
“Thanks.”
He turned in the open door to speak to someone waiting in the reception area—someone Chloe could not see.
“That’s it, CB. I’m cool. I’ll catch you later.”
Kevin turned back to Chloe, his gaze again openly studying her.
“I’m Chloe Jackson,” she announced, holding out her slender hand to him. It was a little disconcerting to have Kevin stare so blatantly at her. Immediately, however, she could tell her name meant nothing to him. He took the hand but rather than shake it, he simply held it.
“Hello, Chloe Jackson.”
“Kyra Dixon and I called earlier and spoke to your assistant who arranged for me to stop by. Kyra and I had lunch together. I assumed your assistant would have told you…I can see now this is not a good time.”
Kevin let her hand go, indicated a chair she was to sit in and closed his office door.
“I decided to go for a run. Not her fault I’m meeting you like this. Kind of funky.” He flapped his elbows up and down and grinned broadly.
“I’m not offended,” Chloe said carefully.
Kevin took his seat. He pulled off the sweat-soaked bandanna and tossed it on his desk.
“So what’s this about Kyra?”
Briefly, Chloe outlined the lunch meeting with Kyra, the discussion about homecoming and the tentative plans for each day of the weekend. All the time she was talking she wasn’t sure if Kevin was actually paying attention, and he continued to stare. But she’d found her balance and decided she wasn’t going to feel intimidated, or giddy, just because she was sitting opposite Kevin Stayton, once the object of her daydreams and affections.
“I’m planning a dance party on Saturday night of homecoming. I think it will be a great way to bring the weekend to an end, before everybody heads home on Sunday after service and brunch. So…”
“So Kyra sent you to persuade me to use one of my clubs.”
Suddenly Chloe didn’t like the slight derision she heard in Kevin’s voice, as if the idea was laughable.
“Not exactly,” she said clearly. “I’m in charge of the planning and arrangements for the weekend. In case you don’t remember it’s also the tenth anniversary for the class of ninety-nine.”
“I got the invitation,” he said and nodded.
“Kyra and I are on the same page about how to celebrate the occasion. I’m the one who will persuade you to let us book one of your clubs. Bollito, to be exact.”
Kevin arched a brow and a sardonic smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “You aim high.”
“Why not? You don’t get what you don’t ask for.”
“Or demand,” Kevin added, a glint in his eyes as he squared off with her.
“I never demand,” Chloe said calmly. “I don’t have to. I can give you not only sound business reasons why using Bollito for a homecoming party makes sense, but I can tell you why personally you’ll even enjoy it.”
Kevin sat back in his chair, lifted his sneaker-shod feet onto the edge of the desk and crossed them at the ankles. “I doubt that. The thought of over-aged former coeds let loose on my best club doesn’t work for me. But, you have my undivided attention. Go.”
Chloe arched a brow herself. It was actually something she’d taught herself to do, recognizing that the simple gesture implied everything from surprise, to skepticism, to contempt. At the moment Chloe used it to show Kevin that she was going to beat him at his own game. She knew how to negotiate a deal.
“To begin with, we’re expecting seven, maybe eight hundred graduates from our class, plus spouses and dates. Of course homecoming events will be open in general to all Hollington students, but the anniversary celebration on Saturday night is just for our class. I think it’s safe to say you were very popular on campus…” Again his eyebrows rose, although his expression remained otherwise impassive. “The party is an amazing opportunity to see folks you haven’t seen in ten years. It will be a big reunion.
“As to the business part. Really, Kevin, I think you know them better than I do. First of all I plan on charging an admission to the party. I’ll have a way built in to make sure that only those from the class of ninety-nine will attend. Second, your club serves alcohol. You get a bunch of overaged former coeds, as you call them, together who haven’t seen each other in years, it’s a chance to talk and spend money on liquor.”
Chloe had the satisfaction of seeing the interest grow in Kevin’s appraising gaze.
“You can throw in a selection of finger foods to serve butler-style. And nothing cheap. Provide the kind of foods we like. Make them delicious and well prepared and easy to manage with a drink in hand and the attendees will be raving long after the weekend. They’ll be talking not only about Bollito but what a great job Kevin Stayton did. Third, provide good music. You know we love to dance. Bollito has five dance floors. They’ll be put to good use. Give everyone a chance to shake their booty.”
He was smiling slightly now. With his elbows on his chair arms and his hands clasped together, he considered her over his knuckles.
“Fourth, we could set a time limit for the party, if you still want to open it to the public late in the evening. Maybe nine to midnight or eight to eleven. You decide.”
She stopped for a moment to let what she’d said sink in. Slowly, Kevin lifted his feet back to the floor. He turned his chair into the desk and leaned across the top to face her.
Chloe was taken with the maturity she now saw in Kevin’s face. During their last year at Hollington he’d been tall and thin but toned. He’d been smart and popular but never allowed his social life to take over his grades. He had a future planned, and he stayed on point. But Kevin was also known to be a serial dater, never without a girlfriend or two his entire four years of college. She counted it as astonishing that Kevin had once confused her for one of his girlfriends.
His face was a little bit long with a high forehead and a square chin. It had filled out just a bit, grown more expressive. His phase beard—just a dusting of facial hair—added an inordinate amount of masculine appeal to his brown skin, shadowy…and sexy.
Chloe remembered Kevin as being a fun-loving guy. He laughed easily and had been open, cocky and full of himself but not in an obnoxious way. Everybody liked Kevin Stayton. What was not to like?
But she could also detect that there was more caution now behind the direct gaze. It was assessing. Thoughtful. A kind of “show me” aura. Well, he was a highly successful businessman. Listening to all the facts before making a decision was part of his responsibility.
Kevin considered her for another few seconds before sitting back. He began to gently swivel his chair from side to side.
“Okay, I like the plan. There are a couple of things I want stipulated, but…”
“You’ll do it? We can use Bollito?”
He grinned. “I’m sure you didn’t come in here expecting me to say no.”
“Of course not,” she hastened to say. “But I did expect more of an argument.”
“I try not to argue about anything. Too exhausting and generally doesn’t accomplish much.”
She agreed, and nodded silently to show it.
“I’ll want a contract, of course.”
“Naturally.”
“But all in all I’m confident this can work out to everyone’s satisfaction.”
“And pleasure. I want this to be a fun evening for everyone. Memorable.”
“Hearing you talk sounds like it will be. Okay, let’s see if we can knock out the contract terms. Let me get Peg—”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Kevin, but I have to go.”
“Just like that? This shouldn’t take long. I’m willing to bet you’ve considered everything,” Kevin told her with a smile.
She smiled graciously. “I have other appointments.”
He pursed his lips and stood as well. “Busy lady. So when do I see you again?”
“At your convenience.”
“Dinner tonight.”
Chloe’s gaze targeted him abruptly. “What?”
“Dinner,” Kevin repeated, ignoring the surprised expression on her face. “At Bollito, if you like. I’ll show you around. You can see what you’re getting.”
“No. But thank you,” Chloe finally managed. “I do want to see the club but maybe another time. With dinner, if you insist.”
“It’s part of sealing the deal. How about breakfast tomorrow morning? Or lunch. Or dinner. That’s twenty-four hours. At some point you’ll have to stop and eat.”
Chloe moistened her lips and gave Kevin her best “let’s keep this business” look. He shrugged as if to say that he couldn’t be blamed for trying.
He gave in with a slight shrug. Bending over a desk calendar he ran his finger down a list of time slots for the next day. “I can see you at nine-thirty or eleven tomorrow morning.”
“Eleven. My office,” Chloe decided. She reached into her bag and took out a small silver case. Extracting a business card she handed it to Kevin.
Kevin was staring at her, hard and skeptical. “How did you get into the event planning business?”
Chloe smiled, not offended by his need to know. “I started out taking over the details of parties in my dorm. It spread beyond that to helping people I worked with. After graduation I spent almost five years in New York working for the wedding planner at the Plaza. What began as an internship turned into a career. I’m good at it,” she added. He arched a brow.
