Oh shit.
It’s a place I’d typically take a date. Only this is an interview of sorts. Which means I need to keep my words professional, my thoughts out of the gutter, and my hands to myself.
So why the hell do I place my fingertips at the small of her back as the hostess leads us to a quiet table for two in the back of the restaurant? Or wonder if Chloe’s wearing a thong, because there are absolutely no panty lines showing under that tight-ass skirt, which seems to defy all logic and a few laws of physics too?
I let my eyes slide shut for a beat.
Two goals shot to hell, and we haven’t even ordered yet.
I can do this. I’m the founder and CEO of a kickass corporation that employs thousands of people. I’m smart. Well-educated. I can at least control my mouth and hands, if not my thoughts.
I let my hand fall away from the curve of her back only to realize the flaw in my theory. I’m a straight guy with a beautiful woman who may or may not be wearing a thong. My eyes are drawn to the smooth skin of her legs as she slides into a chair and her skirt hikes up to reveal slender thighs before they disappear under the table.
“Are you seeing anyone?” I blurt, sliding into the seat across from her.
Fuck.
Goal number three is a goner too.
“I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression. You know,” I shrug like a pro, “in case you’ve got a boyfriend who packs a mean punch.” I smile. Nice save, if I do say so myself.
“No boyfriend.” Chloe takes the menu from the waiter, and so do I.
I freeze when she leans over the menu. The neckline of her silk shirt shifts a fraction, and a delicate piece of beige lace peeks out just above the top button. Now I’m picturing her in nothing but a thong and that lace. And maybe red heels.
“No girlfriend either,” she says, perusing the menu. “Just in case you were wondering.” She doesn’t look up.
Sometimes I’m one of those really smart people who have no common sense. It’s another pitfall of being blessed with a high IQ. I mean, let’s face it—I can be downright obtuse. But I’m pretty sure she just told me she was both available and straight.
Good to know.
The restaurant isn’t busy, since it’s still early evening, so the server comes right over to take our drink orders. I should probably order an expensive bottle of wine, but that’s not really me. “I’ll have a Blue Moon with an orange.”
“I’ll have a Moscow Mule,” Chloe says, and the server heads to the bar.
I’ve never heard of the drink she ordered, but I surmise it contains vodka because of the reference to geography. “That’s a new one on me,” I tease. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“You’re saying I know what a Moscow Mule is and you don’t, Mr. Genius?” She acts shocked, in a playful kind of way. “It’s just a silly drink, but I’ll bet it’s a rare occasion when someone knows something that you don’t.”
“On the contrary. Checkmate is founded on the fundamental principle that men know very little about women.”
The smooth skin just above her eyebrows creases. “How so?”
I start to answer, but the server delivers our drinks and takes our orders. Chloe knows exactly what she wants for dinner, and orders a real meal instead of a salad. I like that. A woman not afraid to eat in front of a guy is a turn-on. Maybe not as much as a thong and red heels, though.
She leans back against the booth, and the cream-colored lace disappears.
Damn.
“You were saying?” She sips her drink.
“Sure you want to hear this?” I swallow a mouthful of frosty beer.
“Of course. Learning everything I can about Checkmate is the best way for me to formulate a public relations strategy that will counter the negative press you’re getting. There’s no better way for me to earn your business. So I’m all ears.”
I realize once again that she’s interviewing me, not the other way around. It’s smart as hell, on one hand. On the other, it’s disappointing, because I’m sure I’ve mistaken the vibe flowing off her. She’s not interested in me as a man. She’s interested in me as a client.
Probably a good thing, since I can’t get involved with her anyway.
“Tell me how it all works. Where did the idea come from? How did it snowball into such a complex network of products and services so fast?” Her lips play with the slender red straw that’s in the copper mug her drink was served in. Unusual, but it fits her because from what I’ve seen so far, she’s anything but ordinary.
I spin my frosty mug in a circle, trying to decide where to begin. I guess I should go back to the beginning.
“When I was in high school, the head cheerleader asked me out on a date.” I hesitate, the humiliation flooding back to burn my stomach.
“Were you on cloud nine?”
“Are you kidding? Try cloud nine thousand. I was on the chess team.” I say it like that should be explanation enough. My face grows warm, and I pull at my collar. No idea why I’m opening up to a woman I’ve just met. Hell, as gorgeous as Chloe is, she was probably head cheerleader in high school. “I found out the cheer squad had lost a bet with the football team. As punishment, each of the girls had to date a nerd for the rest of the school year. At first I was humiliated. I was going to turn her down.”
“Something changed your mind, though.” Not a question, a statement. Like she can guess what’s coming, and she’s totally intrigued.
“I went out on the first date with a plan to tell her at the end of the night that I didn’t find her the least bit interesting. I figured the head cheerleader getting dumped by a mathlete would be pretty sweet revenge.” I tap my chest. “I considered it my personal responsibility on behalf of all brainiacs who’ve been on the receiving end of nerd jokes since the dawn of time.”
“I think I’m about to hear the most interesting ‘but’ in the history of buts,” Chloe says.
I’d have to disagree. Right now I’m thinking her butt is the most interesting I’ve ever encountered.
The server delivers our food, and we both dive in, comfortable eating and talking like we’ve known each other for ages.
“But,” I finally say, and she flashes a million-dollar smile at me. No joke, my heart stops for a second. “During that first date, something phenomenal happened.”
“She did you in the parking lot?” Chloe deadpans, her loaded fork halfway to her mouth.
My jaw falls open. Not what I expected her to say, but I love the way she surprises me. Keeps me guessing, in a good way. Not in a cat-toying-with-a-mouse way.
Her eyes twinkle with mischief.
“Unfortunately, no. I wasn’t that lucky.” I laugh and so does Chloe. “I saw an opportunity to do what I do best.” I cut off a chunk of lasagna and move it around my plate for a second.
“What’s that?” She’s hanging on every word, totally immersed and interested in the story. She’s obviously absorbing, studying… I love that. It’s such a fucking turn-on.
I simply shrug. “To learn.”
“You learned how to gain the upper hand with women.”
This time her statement is a little off base. Understandable, considering the bad press Checkmate is getting. Really, only a miniscule part of the population is making claims of how Checkmate’s products and services are designed to give men an unfair advantage over women. But the media loves to sensationalize things, so the false accusations are gaining momentum quicker than they should.
“No. I listened and looked for cues, tells. Anything that would give me a glimpse into her heart and show me what was missing. What she wasn’t getting from the guys she’d dated in the past.”
This time Chloe shrugs. “If she was head cheerleader then she was obviously popular, and I’m guessing attractive. So what made you so sure she was missing something from the guys in her life?”
“If she had been getting what she needed, she wouldn’t have made the bet that landed her on a date with me in the f
irst place.” I fork up another mouthful of spicy Italian food—the best in the city, as far as I’m concerned. “So on the next few dates I set out to fulfill those needs. Mostly she wanted someone to appreciate her mind as much as they did her looks, and she wanted someone who would look out for her, challenge her, and stand up to her without making her feel bad about herself.”
Chloe traces the pattern on the tablecloth like she’s thinking deep and hard about what I’m saying. Her expression turns guarded. “That was a very perceptive observation for a teenage boy. Some men use control and bully tactics to stand up to a woman or challenge her. They think they are one and the same, but they aren’t.”
“Exactly. So I gave her what she wanted, but in the way she needed it. A way that connected with her in a positive way. Not like a douchebag would’ve.” I waggle my eyebrows at Chloe. “And then she did me in the parking lot.”
Chloe throws her head back and laughs. A few heads turn in our direction, and I’m proud to be with her. She’s amazing.
“Okay, but how did you transform that into a business?” I watch her twirl angel hair around her fork, using a spoon as leverage.
My brain shifts into warp speed. “Could you still eat that pasta without the spoon?”
“What?” She stills to look at me.
“Simple question. Just answer it.”
She looks down at her plate. “Sure, but the spoon makes it much easier, so why wouldn’t I want to use it? It makes the meal more enjoyable.”
“Precisely. Checkmate is the spoon.”
Chloe shakes her head. “I’m not completely following.”
“You’re going to eat that pasta with or without the spoon, right? Well, a woman is going to do what she wants in the end when it comes to a man. She’s going to make her own decisions regardless of whether the guy uses one Checkmate product or buys the whole five-figure package from one of our studios.” I tear off a piece of bread and smother it in real butter. The hours I spend in the gym with Dex and Oz keep me hungry.
Chloe sits back, takes a drink, and processes what I’m saying. “Okay. Getting a little clearer. Keep going.”
I lean forward, getting totally immersed in the topic because a) I’ve built my life on it, b) it’s science, and c) a sexy woman whom I’ve decided is definitely wearing a thong is interested in it.
“Okay, forget the spoon. Sometimes a woman doesn’t know what a guy has to offer because she’s overlooked him. How can she know if she’ll want a guy like that if she never notices him to begin with? She’s likely to go for someone more suave, trendy, debonair, popular… or whatever. Those kinds of guys are flashier. They catch a lady’s attention quicker than the nice, smart guy who sits quietly waiting to be noticed.”
It’s getting later, so the empty tables around us are starting to fill up. I finish my lasagna and push my plate back. “Save room for dessert. The cheesecake is to die for.”
“Oh God,” she almost moans. “I doubt I can finish my meal, much less have dessert.” She pushes her plate toward me. “Want some?”
“Shame to let good food go to waste.” I reach across the table to fork up some pasta.
She blocks my hand. “Only if you finish explaining. You can’t leave me hanging now.”
I nod, and she gives me access to her plate. “There are three scientific things that cause a woman to fall in love with a man: psychology, neuroscience, and biochemistry. It’s fascinating. Checkmate taps into these things on a superficial level. Everything about Checkmate helps a guy get noticed. Our enhanced colognes and body and hair products are engineered to trigger pheromone production, but they can’t influence a woman’s reasoning skills and free will. Same concept with our retail chains, our personal life-stylists; even the private dating coaches we provide are designed to help a guy get a woman’s attention. The rest is up to him and her, but now she’s got choices. Options. She just has to decide what she wants.”
Chloe lets that sink in. “So the purpose of Checkmate Inc. is not only to help men, but it’s also to help women figure out what they want.”
God as my witness, I get the biggest hard-on of my life right then and there. Not just because Chloe is hot as hell—because she gets it. No other woman I’ve ever met has put a fine point on it like she just did, and that quickly topples the thong from the number one spot on my list of turn-ons.
“That needs to be the focus of your public relations campaign. Spin it to appeal to women. If it works, you could incorporate that angle into future advertising.”
Huh.
Never crossed my mind, but it makes perfect sense.
“Have you ever seen a Victoria’s Secret commercial that you could tear your eyes away from?”
I see right where she’s going with this, and I give her a sheepish look on purpose because I’m so busted. “Nope. I watch every single second until it disappears from the screen.”
“So does most every other straight guy in America.” We both keep eating from her plate. “But their products are for women. We want to be that woman on the screen, so we run to their nearest store and spend way more than we should on lingerie that’s impractical, uncomfortable, and will most likely go unseen by the opposite sex.”
And shit. She just mentioned the thing I’ve been fantasizing about all night. Now, only a fast hand while I browse Tumblr will help me get any sleep tonight.
“It’s more about the idea that a woman can feel empowered by wearing their lingerie.” She shrugs, pops the last piece of piccata into her mouth, and chews. “I mean, I wear impractical and sometimes uncomfortable lingerie, with no one to show it to.”
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
She plows on, completely oblivious to the fact that I need a cold shower. Like right now. Wonder if Trombino’s will let me hose off in the kitchen sink?
“But I buy it and wear it anyway, because of the way it makes me feel.” She’s completely relaxed now, talking to me like someone she trusts. “I mean, I’ve pitched PR campaigns to a room full of men and nailed it.” She wipes her mouth with the napkin and places it on the table. “Know why?”
I’m too dumbstruck to answer.
“It was all in the attitude. I owned that room. I wore a new outfit, had my hair done and that was great, but what none of those men knew was I also had on pretty lingerie, and it made me feel like I had the upper hand amongst all that testosterone.”
Call me crazy, but did she just tell me she gets off on wearing sexy lingerie in business meetings? Because this was supposed to be an informal business meeting where she sells me on her public relations skills.
So far she’s doing a bang-up job.
And shit again.
Using the words bang and nailed in the span of sixty seconds isn’t helping the freak show going on under the table. I shift to try to get more comfortable. Isn’t happening.
“Great analogy between Victoria’s Secret and Checkmate. Yet, you don’t see them catching hell in the press. They’re not called man-haters for giving their female clients an edge.”
“And that’s why you need me, Leo.” Chloe’s eyes sparkle because she knows she’s good at her job. I don’t just like that—I fucking love it, because I’m the same way.
I’m just about to give her my seal of approval. Tell her she’s hired, and then turn her over to my assistant first thing Monday so I don’t have to suffer through anymore uncomfortable business meetings wondering what she’s got on underneath her chic professional clothing.
“Hello, Chloe,” a deep, masculine voice says.
Her head snaps up in surprise.
I guess we were so lost in our own world that we didn’t see the guy approach. He’s probably a few years older than me, tall, fit, and carries himself like he can have any woman in the room. The way he looks at Chloe says he’s confident she’ll melt at his feet.
Which pisses me off, because she’s too smart to fall for this slick son-of-a-bitch.
When I look at Chloe, her face has gone pale. The con
fident, self-assured countenance that has won my admiration since the moment I laid eyes on her is gone, replaced with uncertainty. Insecurity. Possibly the remnants of crushing heartbreak that has lessened with time but hasn’t completely faded away.
He sizes me up. I do the same to him, making sure to look him in the eye. I straighten, haul in a deep breath so my chest expands and my size is unmistakable. I’ve packed on a lot of muscle at the gym over the years, so I no longer look like a chess team geek, even though I am. Always will be. Finally he nods, and looks to Chloe.
“How are you, Chloe?”
“I’m good.” She glances at me like she’s unsure what to say next. Her fingertips play across the checkered tablecloth, fingering it nervously.
When she doesn’t continue, he sticks out his hand to me. “Adam Richards.”
Ah, Simmons & Richards, Chloe’s employer. Squares on the Rubik’s cube are sliding into place.
Earlier I asked Chloe why she wanted my account, and she said her boss was itching to fire her because…
She didn’t finish the statement, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this asshole is the “because.” Somehow I just know.
I give his hand a solid shake. “Leo Foxx.”
Silence blankets the three of us as realization dawns in Slick’s brown eyes. If his name is on the company letterhead, he’s probably already salivating over the prospect of gaining my account. But he gives Chloe a territorial look. “Is this business or pleasure?”
“Both,” I say.
“Business,” Chloe blurts at the same time as me.
“If it’s business, please allow me to pick up the tab,” Richards says.
“Chloe and my sister are friends, but we’re discussing my public relations needs, so it’s both.” I wave him off. “I’ve got the bill.”
Richards pulls a card from the inside pocket of his expensive tailored suit and hands it to me. “If you have any questions after you and Chloe are done, I could schedule a meeting with you personally.”
I don’t reach for the card. Chloe has gone completely quiet, and I want to kick this guy’s ass. Obviously, he’s the typical treat-the-lady-like-a-doormat douchebag. Chloe must’ve fallen for it, at least for a while, and it’s messing with her head. Exactly the thing Checkmate can remedy, if only I could help her out in that area.
ForePlay: A Checkmate Inc. Novel Book 1 (The Checkmate Inc. Series) Page 3
