by Scarlet West
“Hell, Cassidy,” I whispered to myself as I dried myself off after the shower. “You really got to me.”
I recalled the previous evening, starting from the moment I saw her, leaning on the rail.
Her perfect ass was round and hard, and her jeans were tight, fitting her like a glove. I thought about her blouse, conforming so well to her perky breasts. Her skin was pale, I recalled, and her lips very red.
I wonder how accurate my dream-imagery was?
I laughed to myself. It was unlikely to be anything close to how she looked. How could it be? It was my imagination.
All the same, a part of me desperately needed to find out if any of that was true. The dream Cassidy had been one hell of a fuck.
Chuckling to myself, I changed my bedsheets, feeling like a teen.
I carried them through to the kitchen and shoved the soiled ones into the washing machine, then switched it on. It was about time I did some laundry, anyways.
According to the clock, it was closer to Saturday afternoon, I noticed, feeling a stab of guilt. My employees probably hadn’t slept in today – we should all be working round the clock, trying to contain the hurricane of bad PR spiraling down to us.
I made coffee and went through to the sitting room. I looked around the apartment idly as I took a seat. A penthouse, I had four rooms, all lavishly but subtly decorated in wheaten white. I found myself wondering if Cassidy would have something good to say about the place.
“Stop it, Adam,” I told myself crossly. “Cassidy still thinks of you as a stupid teenager.”
I put my coffee down, with some force, on the coffee table. She had said as much, recalling the way I had teased her unforgivably, when we were kids. That wasn’t going to make her want to walk into my arms.
She was so awkward in the taxi, too.
I sighed. I understood her feelings. That bastard she’d worked for had been a bully, too, of the worst possible kind. The two things combined – my bullying then, her experience recently – pretty much guaranteed together that my dream would remain just that; a dream.
“So, you can just calm down, Stern,” I told my body firmly. Even the thought of Cassidy, with her sweet red lips parted, her body warm and close, made me ache.
Feeling uncomfortable, I stood and went through to the kitchen. It might be almost eleven o’ clock, but I still needed breakfast.
I fixed myself a quick breakfast – nothing fancy, just cereal and toast with jam – and took it through to the sitting room. I was just finishing up when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
I answered at once, going pale as I saw it was Mrs. Halston. She was one of the few people who had my private number, and I’d only passed it on to her because I knew she’d only use it in an emergency.
“Mr. Stern?” she said quickly. “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience. But we need your opinion at once. Have you seen your e-mail?”
“No,” I said, feeling my stomach hit my shoes. “What is it?”
“Maybe you’d better see for yourself, sir. It’s from Mr. LaRoche.”
I winced. Aiden LaRoche was the financial representative for the NFL. If he had contacted me, it could only be in connection with one thing – our contract with them.
“Can you give me a synopsis?” I asked. I didn’t know if I could make myself read the e-mail yet.
Mrs. Halston sounded very upset. “It’s about setting a meeting. He wants to see you as soon as possible.”
“Monday, after lunch?” I said quickly.
“Very good, Mr. Stern,” she said. She sounded glad. “I’ll call him directly.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Halston,” I said sincerely. “You’re a great help.”
“Not at all, sir. Have a good weekend.”
“Thanks,” I said woodenly. “You, too.”
When she had hung up, I leaned back in the sofa and closed my eyes. Aiden LaRoche. What was I supposed to say to him? If he told me that the NFL wanted to end our work for them, I honestly didn’t know what I was meant to do.
I needed to do something drastic.
It was only when I went to the kitchen that I realized I had danger of overlapping my meeting with LaRoche with my planned interview of Cassidy.
“Damn,” I swore.
I wanted to call her, but I suddenly realized I didn’t have her contact details.
“That was clever,” I told myself angrily. “How are you supposed to collaborate with someone you can’t even call?” I could call Brady but didn’t feel like bothering him over the weekend. I sat down at the table, covering my face. I needed to stop flipping out like this. It wasn’t helping.
So, I might have overbooked myself. So what? It would give me an excuse to get LaRoche out of my office if he went on a rant.”
I smiled grimly. I would be lucky if he wanted to stay to chat.
I stood up and went to the cupboard where I kept my cleaning things. When in doubt, my mother always said, clean your house.
I grinned, recalling that piece of advice. My mom had been an icon for me. I sometimes thought she was the strongest person I could imagine. My dad had been a bully and had treated her badly from before I was born. They’d separated when I was five, just old enough to recall some of the worst fights and confrontations between them.
It was the main reason I didn’t get involved with anyone past having a good time. I didn’t want to end up miserable and divorced and alone. Going from one one-night stand to another was the best way to avoid it in my book. I wrung out the cloth into the sink, glad my hands were still as powerful as they had been when I played football. Mom had put me through school as a single parent, and still saved up enough for me to go to college. As it happened, I had a scholarship anyway – most colleges want guys who can play football really well. But I would never forget that she had dedicated so much of her life to helping me out.
I finished the cleaning. Images of my parents fights, my own dealings with women in the past, Cassidy and her boss, ran through my mind. I felt disillusioned and sad – both for what I might have done in the past, and for what had been done to her.
The fiery anger I felt when thinking about her circumstances still surprised me. I had never before felt so protective of a woman and I didn’t quite understand it. It made me feel even worse for being such a shit to her when we were younger. By the time Monday morning finally arrived, I was feeling less scattered. The evening before had granted me deep, restful sleep, not plagued with torrid visions of Cassidy. By the time I got to work, I felt much calmer.
“Mr. Stern,” Mrs. Halston greeted me as I walked into my office. “You’re ready for the meeting?”
“Meeting?” I frowned.
“The emergency board meeting,” she said quickly. “They all wanted to meet with you as soon as LaRoche has left.”
I closed my eyes, not sure if I wanted to groan or scream. Since I couldn’t make either sound, I didn’t reply. Just nodded.
“Okay,” I said at length. “I’ll be ready for them.”
I went into my office and shut my door.
I spent the morning trying to surf a wave of e-mails – some harsh, some concerned, all demanding more of me emotionally than I was currently able to give.
I worked through lunch and jumped when Mrs. Halston knocked at my door.
“Mr. LaRoche is here,” she said.
I stood as the tall man walked into my office. He held out a hand. Usually so affable, he wasn’t smiling today.
“Hello,” I greeted him.
He read me the riot act. Not in an aggressive way – that absolutely wasn’t his style -- but in a soft-spoken and polite manner, he told me that we were in grave danger of losing our key customers.
“I understand.”
“I’m sure you do, Mr. Stern. And, much as we hate to do this to you, we can’t jeopardize our own public image. I’m sure you know how crucial it is to maintain a solid PR front.”
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “I know.”<
br />
He left my office five minutes before two o’ clock. We had agreed to meet with the board at 2:30. That meant I had just under half an hour to prepare what I was going to say and talk to Cassidy.
A knock on the door frayed my already worn nerves.
“Hello?” I barked.
“Mr. Stern?” Mrs. Halston said formally. “Miss Williams.”
I stared. In a green dress that hugged her curves, her blonde hair lightly waved, she was impossibly gorgeous. I tried to find my voice.
“Hello, Cassidy,” I coughed.
She raised a brow. “Hello, Mr. Stern,” she said, looking around my office. “It looks like you’ve struck it rich.”
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to my feet, hand outstretched in greeting.
“I was doing well, yeah,” I admitted. “Not for long.”
She shook my hand, then took a seat opposite me. She raised a brow. “That bad, huh?”
I nodded, miserably. “Nightmare would be a better word.”
“Tell me.”
I told her. The ratings, the ranting, the news starting with Mr. Newgate and ending with LaRoche and the NFL, I told her everything, leaving nothing out. When I was finished, she lifted a brow.
“So, you contacted Stannard Sportswear? And Excite?”
“Um, no,” I said, pausing to recall what those company names meant. I remembered, slowly. We had done successful campaigns for them, a year or two previous.
She made big round eyes at me. “Why haven’t you, yet?” she asked. “We need their feedback, ASAP. And anybody else you can think of who can give you high marks and recommendations.”
“Sure,” I said, blinking at her in surprise. I hadn’t expected her to do research too. It felt almost as if she knew more about the company than I did.
“Great!” she said, swiveling the chair around. I watched her, finding my eye drawn to her spectacular body against my control.
“Sure,” I said again, already opening my e-mails on my laptop, scrolling through my past contacts. There was the representative from Excite, a Mr. Harrison. I could easily contact him now.
“Mr. Stern?”
I jumped as the door opened again, my eyes going to Cassidy’s face. I was suddenly very worried. It was Mrs. Halston, which meant it was a matter of minutes before I had to go in front of the board.
“I’m coming. Now,” I added, as she shot me a remorseful glance. “Shit!” I swore as she left. I was already standing, my hands fumbling for papers on my desk. I knew I was stressing beyond reason, but I couldn’t make myself stop it.
“What is it?” Cassidy asked, frowning.
“The board,” I said quickly. “I have to go meet with them, to discuss our strategy for containing this shit show.”
I trailed off, as a wonderful idea occurred to me. It was perfect.
I beamed at her.
“What?” she frowned.
“You wouldn’t be prepared to come with me, would you?”
“What?” she asked again.
“Wouldn’t you like to come with me?” I asked quickly. “To meet with the board?”
“I don’t know if I could,” Cassidy said slowly.
I heard myself laughing. “Of course, you could,” I said. “You know more about this stuff than I do. And that after one day of research. Come on, Cassidy. Please? I need you.”
I saw her frown. “Well, maybe I could at least stand in…”
“Great!” I spun round as the door opened again, and LaRoche walked in. Cassidy stood up.
“Mr. Stern?” LaRoche frowned at me. “We’re all waiting for you next door. And who is this?”
I grinned at him. “This is Ms. Cassidy Williams,” I said. “The answer to all our problems.”
8
Cassidy
I looked around the room from the doorway. My heart had stopped thumping a moment ago. Instead of thumping with fear, it had just stopped completely. I was terrified. I could see men in suits of all descriptions – stern-faced men with files and Parker pens, waiting to hear from the CEO.
Swallowing, I made myself take a deep breath, then let it all out in a sigh.
A tall man at the table with a bald head cleared his throat.
“If you could please explain further?”
“Sure,” Adam nodded. “I have just been discussing our PR crisis with Ms. Williams, and she has a brief summary report to deliver on how to handle it from here.” He smiled at me. “Isn’t that so?”
My voice was in my throat somewhere, not quite able to speak.
“Yes,” I finally croaked.
He smiled at me with surprising tenderness. “Good,” he said.
I made myself tear my gaze from him and look round the room. All eyes were on me. The African American man who’d spoken earlier gave me a friendly smile, though his eyes were frosty.
“We’re ready as soon as you are,” he said.
I paused, taking in the room, the slide-projector, the table. Suddenly, I felt at ease. I’d stood in front of boards a hundred times, doing exactly this – albeit with more time for preparation. I knew what I was doing. I could ace this. “My strategy is to follow three major channels of connection to the public. First, via endorser statements on our social media channels and on the website. Second, through publicity on our campaigns via key events…”
As the words came to me, I felt more and more comfortable. I saw men nodding, pursing their lips, listening. I felt my confidence grow.
“…and so, gentlemen,” I finished, giving them all a bright smile. “I hope that summary all made sense. Would anybody like to ask a question?”
A thin-faced man with white hair nodded. The NFL representative grinned at me.
“That was a convincing strategy,” he said.
“Thanks,” I gulped. I glowed. It had been too long since I’d exercised my talent.
Two or three questions followed, and Adam helped me to answer them. When we’d finished, he looked over at me with those blue eyes appreciative. I felt something in my tummy tingle.
“Thank you, Ms. Williams,” he said. “If nobody has any more questions, we can maybe get on with the rest of the matters at hand?”
“Yes,” the thin-faced man said. “As it happens, many of our doubts have just been addressed. There is still the matter of projected ROI to discuss.”
“Yes,” Adam nodded. “Ms. Williams? Would you like to stay and discuss further?”
“Actually, I need to get back to work,” I said, suddenly nervous again.
“Good,” he grinned. “I’ll see you later, though? After the meeting?”
As his eyes met mine, we could have been the only two people in the room. I felt his gaze like a touch on my skin. Swallowing hard, I nodded.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good.”
I walked briskly to the door and slipped through. I could hear Adam discussing the remaining questions as I left. I sat down heavily in the first chair I saw, breath labored.
“Whew,” I whispered. “That was hectic.”
Now that I was done, I realized I was shaking. I couldn’t quite believe he’d put me on the spot like that! But, I thought, it had all gone well.
“Is he serious?”
The words filtered slowly through my mind. I couldn’t quite believe it. Adam Stern had given me a job!
I covered my face with my hands. I felt like crying. All these weeks and months of worrying about time away from work, spoiling my resume, finding new positions – it was all over. Adam Stern was my boss now.
The thought made me smile. It was so strange! Adam – the kid with the big shoulders and blue eyes who’d called me Freckle-Face – was my boss.
And he’s not half bad looking either.
I bit back a wry smile. What was it going to be like, working for Adam? It was going to be seriously strange.
“Cassidy?”
I jumped as I heard his voice. I stood up hastily. He’d just come out of the boardroom and was stri
ding up the hallway toward me. He was grinning, smart jacket buttoned, looking every inch the hot-shot businessman.
“Adam!” I felt my cheeks flush. “How did it go?”
“We did it!” he was jubilant. “You beautiful genius! You saved me!” Then, before I could even draw breath, he bent forward and kissed me, full on the lips.
I stared. My body fizzled like soda in a glass. My heart soared. My lips, feeling bruised, tingled and my whole body wanted his.
“We did it!” Adam said again, pulling away and grinning down at me. “Thank you, Cassidy. They say they’ll give us two weeks, before they consider going elsewhere.”
“Two weeks?”
“Sure,” he nodded. “I reckon you can make it work in two weeks?” he raised a brow. “I told them you are our new consultant, to help us out of the crisis, and I have tons of faith in you.”
I felt my head reel. I had arrived there planning to discuss a strategy to help Adam out of difficulties. Instead, I had given a presentation and been appointed as consultant to Synergy Sport. All in an hour?
And been kissed on the lips by Adam Stern!
My body still aching with desire, I nodded.
“Thanks,” I said.
“So,” Adam said, falling in next to me as we both walked down the hallway. “I hope you’re going to be able to start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I gaped.
“Yeah,” he frowned. “We need to put this plan into operation straight away. My investors insist on it, There’s the matter of compensation, of course,” he paused. “Would you take fifteen?”
“Fifteen thousand dollars?” I stared at him. “For two weeks work?”
My previous salary had been twenty thousand per month. Earning almost that for half a month seemed too much!
“I need your help, Cassidy,” he said softly. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Thanks,” I gulped. “Don’t stress. You’ll be fine,” he said. His hand rested briefly on my shoulder. I felt the touch thrill through me like electric charge.
