“Fair enough, but if you do, the bed is available to you as well. But let’s be clear, I’m only offering to take a nap with you, not have sex.”
“We are very clear on that point. Is there a specific time you would like me to wake you up, or should I just let you sleep?”
“Give me a half hour to fall asleep, and don’t let me sleep any longer than two hours, please.”
He nods. “OK, if you’re not up in two and a half hours, I’ll wake you up. Sweet dreams.”
“Thank you. I hope this quiet time is productive for you.”
Rachel grabs an extra blanket for Jessica and hands it to her as she is heading to the sleeping quarters.
“Thank you,” she says.
After she closes the door, Sean asks for a snack of pâté and brie. Then he pores over spreadsheets, plans, market demographics, and consumer behavior patterns for the Latin American fashion industry. He reads periodicals provided by Bradley and begins to map out patterns he hadn’t noticed before that provide strategy diversification alternatives to increase market penetration with their product line much faster than he’d previously anticipated. He scribbles feverishly, noting as many options as he can imagine, including a note to have Bradley research these options over this week. When he finally breaks and looks at his watch again, he realizes he needs to wake up Jessica.
“Rachel, would you please prepare more pâté and brie for Jessica?”
“Of course, Mr. Green,” she replies. When the snack is ready, Sean quietly opens the door, leans over, and kisses Jessica gently on the cheek.
She opens her eyes slowly, then smiles. “What a wonderful way to be woken up.”
“I’m glad you think so. I have a snack of brie and pâté waiting for you.”
Still smiling, she says, “You are so thoughtful. Thank you, I’m starving.”
“I can have lunch prepared, if you prefer.”
“Oh, no! Brie and pâté sounds marvelous. Just give me a minute to wake up.”
He nods. “What would you like to drink?”
“Water will be just fine.”
“Water it is, then. See you in a bit.” He leaves the sleeping quarters, closing the door behind him.
Jessica emerges a few minutes later to find Sean’s work spread all over the jet. She smirks. “It looks to me like you have been a very busy boy.”
“When isn’t he?” Rachel asks, placing a bottle of water next to the only seat not covered in papers.
“Well, I’m not quite sure how to answer that,” Jessica replies with a chuckle. “You care to answer that question yourself, Sean?”
“I’m not working when I’m sleeping or having sex,” he says with a snicker.
“Well, are those the only two times, then?”
He considers, then replies, “No, when I’m swimming, I’m not working.”
He gathers up the work product around the empty seat and motions for Jess to take it, then gestures toward the snacks. She fixes a table cracker with both toppings and holds it out to him, but he declines.
She asks, “Am I the only one eating this, then?”
He nods. “I’ve already eaten, but thank you.”
Jessica shrugs and takes a bite, groaning her approval. She looks at Sean and all the work still spread around him and raises an eyebrow inquisitively.
“I was reviewing market data and consumer purchasing habits in Latin America for your expansion, and I found some interesting possibilities. Here, let me show you what I’m thinking. Since there is such a need for class identification in Brazil, and even other parts of Latin America, I’m proposing a tiered pricing structure, which is probably obvious at first glance.”
She nods. “Duh.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Anyway, it’s not the structure that’s important, it’s the self-image congruence model’s subtle messaging that supports the structure.”
Jessica cocks her head a bit. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Duh,” he says with a mischievous smile.
She just nods in acquiescence, and he continues, “Here is where the marketing magic comes into play in such a subtle way. These models help to identify or even predict how people wish to see themselves, and they purchase products that help portray that image. For example, someone wanting success will purchase brands that portray success. Those hoping for status buy brand names or designer labels. For the basic apparel, we project the need to dress for success with the message being something like ‘You may be just starting out or starting over, but you don’t need to look that way.’ I was thinking personalization: ‘Beauty Boutique Clothing and our image consultants will fashion your persona.’” He pauses, waiting for Jessica’s response. She nods again, more excitedly this time.
“Yes, I like this. That’s good.”
He continues. “Great. Then, for the elite individual, the upper-tier pricing will be reserved for the more exotic fabrics and elaborate designs. The message should be something like, ‘Status should be apparent—Beauty Boutique Clothing.’ I’m not sure the slogans are where they should be, I’m just brainstorming here, but you see where I’m going with these, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, but what about the middle market or middle-class segment?”
“Well, I kind of thought we covered that in the first pricing tier…”
“I don’t think so. What if we said something like, ‘The journey is long; no obstacles, just possibilities—Beauty Boutique Clothing’?”
He considers for a moment. “I’ll get the ad design and concepts team working on these new thoughts as soon as we land. We should have samples by Wednesday for your approval. If we are good to go, I’ll have them finalized, and Bonnie can bring the copy down with her on Friday.”
“Perfect. Are things always this easy for you to get done?”
He grins. “I don’t know, I guess so. I suppose being the CEO of a major marketing company doesn’t hurt.”
“Apparently not,” she replies with a chuckle.
Sean looks at his watch and motions to the flight attendant.
“It’s after one o’clock; time for a scotch. Jess, would you like a drink?”
“Actually, that sounds good. I’ll have tequila with crushed orange and lots of cinnamon, please.”
The flight attendant makes a face, then catches herself and looks to see if Jessica noticed.
She smiles kindly and says, “I know it sounds and looks disgusting, but it is actually quite tasty. Have you ever tried it?”
Rachel shakes her head at the same time Sean blurts out, “Why would anyone want to?”
Rachel giggles and retrieves their drinks.
Jessica asks, “Do you like tequila?”
“Yes, why?”
“Well, try it,” she says, holding out the drink.
Rachel looks at Sean, who says, “Go ahead, at your own peril.”
She takes a sip and the expression in her eyes tells Jessica all she needs to know.
Rachel nods. “Wow, I’m truly surprised. That is good. It looks disgusting, but I think I have found a new drink.” She hands the drink back to Jessica, who smiles.
“Most people feel the same way.”
Sean takes a sip of scotch, shaking his head in disbelief. Both women stare inquisitively at him, and when he notices their stares, he can no longer hold his tongue. “No one should treat good tequila with such utter disregard for its creation. It’s criminal; it’s alcohol abuse!”
“How would you know? You don’t have the guts to try it,” Jessica replies, giggling.
“Nor will I, ever! That’s just disgusting.”
“If I may, it’s really pretty good,” Rachel chimes in.
He shakes his head again. “I just know there are good people who worked very hard to produce quality tequila, and I don’t believe they would wan
t to see their product molested in that manner.”
Jessica laughs out loud. “Molested? You are such a snob. If someone wanted to take one of my designs and alter it in a manner that makes them happy, why should I care?”
He shifts in his seat. “Because it’s one of your designs, and it’s meant to represent the quality of work you produce, that’s why!”
“Really? It was one of my designs, and it did represent the quality of my work when the person purchased it from me. Once she leaves my store, the garment belongs to her, and she can do with it as she please. I made my money when the piece was purchased. After that I have no desire or right to insist it be treated or worn in any specific manner.”
He narrows his eyes. “Well, I guess I never looked at it from that perspective before.”
“OK, look at it this way. After you produce a marketing campaign, do you allow your client to alter it in any way desired, to make it perfect?”
“Of course I do.”
“Why? It’s your campaign, right? It represents the quality of work you do, doesn’t it?”
“Of course it does, but it’s their product or corporate image.”
“So in other words, if your client is happy with your work, you don’t care that the client altered it in some way, right?”
He sighs, defeated. “Point well made.”
“Now, would you like to try a sip?” she asks, holding the glass out for him.
“Oh, OK. I’ll try a tiny bit.”
She bites back a sarcastic remark as he takes a sip of her tequila. He raises his eyebrow, hesitates, and then takes a little larger sip, swishing it around on his tongue. Finally, he smiles and says, “I’m surprised. It really isn’t that bad. It’s not something I would enjoy regularly, but I will admit it’s not bad.”
Jessica smiles, saying, “There, now you have experienced something new, and you can make an informed decision as to whether you would ever drink it. Except now, that decision is made from an informed position, rather than your previous ignorance.”
Sean just smiles and tips his scotch toward her in acknowledgment and acceptance of her point.
The rest of the flight is taken up by small talk and reviewing their schedules for the next two weeks. Then Rachel tells them they will be landing in thirty minutes, and the pilot already has clearance. “Also, Hugo is at the gate, and the coroner’s car will already be there by the time we arrive. Customs will want to review the original transfer papers, and you will have to make sure everything is in order for the release of Ricardo’s body.”
Sean grabs his briefcase and removes all the necessary paper work for the customs agents. He takes a deep breath and then tells Jessica, “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
She reaches over and gives his hand a slight squeeze. “You’re ready. It sucks, but you’re ready.” They continue to hold hands as the plane taxis to the gate, and she squeezes one more time as the plane comes to a complete stop. When the door opens, Sean stands. The customs agent steps onto the plane, followed by Hugo. Sean shakes the agent’s hand and turns over all the necessary paper work. Sean turns to Hugo, gives him a big hug, and expresses his condolences.
“Thank you for all your help in getting Ricardo back where he belongs. How much do I owe you for the expenses?”
Sean replies with a shake of his head. “My friend, you don’t owe me a dime. I am just glad I could get Ricardo home in a timely manner.”
Hugo, teary and visibly shaken, murmurs, “Thank you again.”
The customs agent leans out the plane’s door to motion to the coroner’s ground crew to move the casket into the waiting hearse.
“Everything is in order, Mr. Green. Welcome back to Brazil. I’m sorry it isn’t under better circumstances.” He and Sean shake hands once more, and the agent heads back down the stairs to the tarmac.
Jessica expresses her condolences to Hugo, and he nods, obviously moved by emotion at the realization that Ricardo is actually gone. He turns and walks down the stairs to the hearse, so he can accompany his cousin to the funeral home.
Sean and Jessica sit, holding hands and saying little, during their limousine ride to the villa. Halfway there, Jessica breaks the silence.
“I can’t imagine what Hugo is going through. I feel horrible. And seeing that casket makes everything so…final.”
Sean nods, still not saying a word. As the limousine turns into the driveway of the villa, he leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now,” she replies quietly.
They exit the limousine to find the butler on the veranda.
“Welcome back, Ms. Silva, Mr. Green. Will you be dining tonight or just snacking?” he asks.
Jessica glances at Sean, who still looks slightly out of it. “We just had lunch, so I’m not sure.”
The butler nods. “I understand, ma’am. But allow me to remind you, it is six o’clock here. Shall I have a light snack prepared?”
She smiles because she forgot about the different time zone issues. “A light snack would be wonderful. Perhaps on the veranda? I think mango margaritas sound splendid as well, especially yours.”
He smiles broadly at the compliment. “Absolutely. Please get settled, and everything will be ready when you are.”
“Thank you,” she replies and turns to Sean. “I’m going to throw on some comfortable clothes and unpack. Meet you on the veranda in thirty minutes?”
He nods, still quiet, and kisses her cheek again before heading to his room.
Closing the door behind him, he glances around the suite and takes a deep breath, accepting the finality of Ricardo’s death, and reminded of Mark’s.
It’s going to be a long week, he thinks as he tosses his suitcase on the bed.
There’s a quiet knock on the door, and Sean answers it to find the butler.
“I thought you might like something a little stronger than a margarita, Mr. Green. You seem to be struggling. I brought you the best Irish whiskey in the house. Jameson Midleton.” He holds out the glass, and Sean takes it gratefully, sipping and letting the heat spread through his body.
“Thank you, Eduardo. I appreciate it.”
Eduardo nods and leaves him to his drink.
He looks around the suite again, decides he doesn’t feel like unpacking, and heads to the veranda.
He is seated at a little table covered with snacks when Jessica joins him, wearing her favorite comfortable outfit: black yoga pants and a long orange tunic.
She watches his approving expression as he gives her the up-and-down glance. He stands and pulls out a chair for her to take her seat.
Spread out before them are plates of honey-glazed roasted pineapple, grilled shrimp, and local cheeses.
Sean prepares her a plate and hands it to her and, after her first bite, she says contentedly, “The food here is always so exquisite.”
He nods with an agreeing smile. “The view isn’t bad, either.”
“I agree,” she says, glancing out at the pool and ring of scenery surrounding them. “The grounds are spectacular.”
He chuckles. “I wasn’t referring to the grounds.”
She blushes, looks down, and then makes eye contact with Sean. “Thank you.”
He nods. “I mean it. You’re a beautiful woman inside and out.”
She smiles, and it’s quiet while they eat.
Then Jessica asks, “Can we walk some of the grounds? I’ve never really seen the estate.”
“Of course.”
He extends his hand, helps her out of her chair, and leads her off the veranda. As they walk holding hands, Sean is surprised by how good it feels to be there with her and wonders if she feels the same way.
They chat, their conversation focused on the beauty of the ground
s and Jessica’s concerns for Bonnie.
“Being here later in the week and attending yet another funeral service will be difficult for her, I think,” she says, reaching out to smell an exotic-looking flower.
Sean watches her. “I think Bonnie will be up to it.”
“Still, it will probably hit some nerves. She’s a strong woman. I’m just not sure how much more she can endure.”
As they climb the stairs back onto the veranda, Eduardo appears with another fresh mango margarita for each of them. “I thought you might enjoy a refreshing beverage after your walk.”
“Thank you,” they reply in unison and grin at each other.
Eduardo nods, and then he disappears back into the residence.
Jessica takes her drink and stands at the railing of the veranda, looking out on the sinking sun.
“The colors are magnificent. The contrast between the sky and lush vegetation is picturesque.”
Sean moves to stand behind her, and then he puts his glass on the railing and begins massaging her shoulders.
She moans softly, enjoying his firm but gentle touch. “That feels so good. You just can’t imagine.”
He smiles. “Be quiet and enjoy your massage.”
She tips her head back slightly as his fingers move up her neck. “Take all the time you want. I’m putty in your hands.”
He continues for several more minutes, and when he stops, she turns around to face him while leaning against the rail. She takes her last sip of mango margarita, putting the glass on the railing next to Sean’s almost untouched one.
He steps in toward Jessica and kisses her gently. She responds by wrapping both arms around his neck and intensifying the kiss. Without thinking, he pushes his body against hers, pinning her between him and the railing. He twines his fingers through her hair, then tightens his grip and kisses her with a burning hunger he hasn’t felt in years. Jessica moans in satisfaction against his passionate mouth before he pulls away. They stand in each other’s arms for a moment, breathing hard, and then he places another gentle kiss on her mouth and backs up.
She stares into his eyes and tells him, “You can do that again anytime.”
Unmerited Favor: The Compassion and Peril of Mercy ( Un missable Series Book 2) Page 7
