by Tawna Fenske
It was almost enough to make her forget the meeting she’d been dreading all day. The meeting she’d dreaded for two years, come to think of it.
But the closer she got to her office, Holly felt herself shifting back into career mode. She had two hours until the appointment with her loan officer. There was a lot to get done between now and then.
By the time she walked through the door of First Impressions, the warmth she’d felt from her encounter with Magic Hands had all but faded. She had real business to deal with here, and today sure as hell wasn’t the day to get distracted by a sexy geek. If things didn’t go well with the bank, it wasn’t just her business that might fall apart. For Holly, this business was her whole life.
She ran a hand over the stylized purple reception desk, its retro chrome legs gleaming against the mosaic tile floor that lined the reception area. She’d picked this table out herself, along with all the rest of the furnishings. She and her best friend, Miriam, had worked hard to build First Impressions from the ground up, and not a day went by that Holly didn’t feel ridiculously proud about it.
Proud and lucky. There was still a risk she could lose it. Hell, she’d nearly lost it all two years ago.
How was she supposed to know her husband would go from sweet and supportive to resentful of her career before the ink had dried on the marriage license?
But she’d kept moving along these last two years, adding clients and employees and figuring out how to pay all the bills along the way. They were on the brink of becoming the largest PR and branding firm in the whole city, with a wall full of awards for their work.
Lucy the receptionist looked up from her computer and smiled. “Did you have a good lunch?”
“Not bad,” Holly said. “Drank a protein shake, squeezed some pillows, made out with a strange man in a furniture store.”
“All in a day’s work,” Lucy called as Holly ducked around the corner into her office.
She dropped into her custom-fitted Aeron chair and tapped her keyboard to bring up her calendar. She had a meeting at one thirty with the owner of a destination marketing organization looking for a new branding campaign. After her appointment at the bank, she had a phone conference to coach a hospital administrator on some public speaking tips, and after that—
“Holly?”
Lucy’s voice over the phone’s intercom system jolted her from her planning. “Yes?”
“There’s a call for you on line three. A Ben Langley?”
“Did he say who he’s with?”
“He didn’t, but he asked to speak with you directly. Would you like me to put him through to your voicemail?”
“That’s okay,” Holly said, reaching for the receiver. “It’s probably one of the guys from that lemonade company. They keep adding new people to tomorrow’s meeting agenda.”
“Got it. Here you go.” Lucy clicked off, and Holly hit the button to take the call.
“Hello, this is Holly Colvin.”
“Holly Colvin,” he repeated as though tasting the words, and Holly’s brain flashed on an image of the guy in the furniture store. His voice was as warm and broad as his hands on her back, and her spine tingled at the sound.
“This is Ben Langley, the new CEO of Langley Enterprises. We met at the furniture store?”
“Ben, of course. Lovely to hear from you.” She crossed her legs under the desk and plucked a green ballpoint pen from the ceramic mug on her desk. “What can I do for you?”
“Quite a lot, actually,” he said, his voice low and rumbly. “I need you. I want you.”
Chapter Two
Holly dropped her pen. It bounced once, then rolled off the end of her desk as Ben’s words echoed in her head.
I need you. I want you.
Her traitorous heart pulsed in her chest, though it wasn’t the only thing throbbing. She uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again, her palms slick at the memory of Ben’s mouth on hers.
“Pardon me?” she said, smoother than she felt, but she wasn’t a pro at this PR business for nothing.
“I need a PR firm,” he said evenly. “And I’ve done a bit of research on your website in the last twenty minutes, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I want it to be you.”
“Me, right, yes—First Impressions,” Holly said, scrambling to pick up her pen as she chided herself for reading too much into his words. “Of course. What is it you had in mind, Mr. Langley?”
“Ben. Call me Ben, please.” He cleared his throat, and she remembered the feel of rough stubble against her cheek.
“Okay, Ben,” she said. Hey, she’d call him whatever he wanted her to. Rule number one was putting clients at ease, letting them know they could trust her. If being on a first-name basis was what did it for Ben, so be it. “What is it you’d like us to do for you?”
“I’ve been instructed to attend a corporate function at seven thirty this evening, and in the words of my father, ‘mingle, schmooze, hobnob, and chinwag.’ I had to google two of the four terms. In case you failed to notice, I’m not exactly a people person.”
She couldn’t figure out if he was joking or not, but he didn’t seem like the sort to make wisecracks. “So you need help with your professional networking skills?”
“Among other things. It was suggested to me by my best friend, Parker, that I have the charm of a porcupine with the flu.”
Was he really this unaware of his own appeal? The man had charm oozing from his pores, but she couldn’t outright argue with him. He didn’t seem the type to be helped by that sort of thing. At least not now.
“I see,” she said.
“I pointed out that the North American porcupine is actually well-known for its adaptability to unfamiliar habitat, superior swimming capabilities, and relative longevity among most species of rodents. Apparently those aren’t selling points for a CEO.”
Holly laughed. “You don’t say.” She tapped her pen on her desk, not certain if the guy had the driest sense of humor on the planet or the most awkward social skills she’d ever encountered. Either way, it was clear he had a few rough edges to smooth. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “You want to rebrand yourself?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. We’re trying to land a new client whose business could catapult Langley Enterprises into a whole new realm of operations. I have until the end of the month to demonstrate I’m prepared to take us there.”
“The end of the month?” Holly swallowed and glanced at her calendar. Nothing like a deadline to really up the stakes. “What’s happening at the end of the month?”
“The biggest sales presentation we’ve ever done, preceded by a whole lot of wining and dining between now and then.”
“I see.”
“Look, I’m confident I have the brain to be a CEO,” Ben said. “I just lack the charisma. The ability to speak my mind and make people listen to what I say. But my father is insistent the time has come for me to take the helm of the family business now that he’s shifting to a new role.”
“Langley Enterprises is your family business?”
“My great-grandfather started it. My grandpa became president after him, and then my father, and now…”
He trailed off there, his voice sounding a bit glum, and Holly ached to ask for details, but she bit her tongue. It wasn’t any of her business.
“The men in my family are charismatic leaders,” he said. “My grandfather probably invented the word hobnob. I, on the other hand, graduated from Yale at eighteen with honors and with the dubious distinction of never having kissed a girl.”
“Ah,” Holly said, the memory of his kiss prompting her to lick her lips. “Apparently you’ve had time to hone your skills since then.”
He laughed, a deep, throaty tone that made her wonder what sort of sounds he’d make in bed. “That’s kind of you to say. You think I should just tongue-wrestle my colleagues at professional functions?”
Oh God…
If those were the kinds of thoughts runn
ing through her head, there was no way in hell she should take any job that put her in close proximity with this man. She’d shared one moment with him at the furniture store. As cute as he was—as hot as that kiss had been—this was business. Her career. Her life. She couldn’t afford to get mixed up with a client, even if he did make her flush just from the memory of his lips on hers…
“Look, Mr. Langley—”
“Ben.”
“Ben.” Slipup number one. Yet another sign she needed to back off. “I have to be honest. This is a little outside the realm of my normal corporate branding work. I typically develop high-level campaigns to influence the public’s perception of a company or a product.”
“In this case, consider me the product. I’m the face of the company, and I need help. I’ve spent the last ten years working my ass off for Langley, but my closest colleagues were protons and polymers.”
“I take it the protons and polymers weren’t concerned about your hairstyle?”
“What’s wrong with my hairstyle?”
“Nothing, if you’re into that whole rumpled ‘just got out of bed’ look.”
Which I kinda am.
Holly bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t offended him. Hell, maybe she should offend him. Maybe then he’d hang up himself and she’d be off the hook. “I don’t know that I’d be right for this job,” she said at last. “But if you believe First Impressions is the best PR firm for your needs, I can personally select someone from our staff to work with you.”
A silence followed for several seconds, and she wondered if the line had gone dead. Maybe he really had hung up.
“Someone else?” he said at last. “I was hoping it would be you. At least with you, I know we already work well together.”
Yeah. That was kind of the problem. If that kiss was any indication, they worked a little too well together.
“Besides,” he continued before she could voice another objection. “I reviewed the bios for your whole staff on the website. There’s no one else on your team with the same mix of skills you have in corporate branding, public speaking—”
“Ben, I’m sorry, the situation would simply be too…unusual.”
She let the word hang there between them for a moment, hoping he understood what she was driving at. Then again, even Holly wasn’t sure what she was driving at. Why was it so terrifying to imagine mixing business with a guy she found so attractive?
You know damn well why.
He cleared his throat. “If it’s a matter of money, I can assure you, I’ll pay whatever fee you think is necessary. Triple it if you think the assignment is unusual enough to warrant it.”
She grimaced and tapped her pen on the desk. The money was tempting, but she wasn’t that desperate. Was she? She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. But I’m sure you’ll find a PR firm that’s more suited for your needs. Good luck to you.”
Then she hung up before that sexy voice could talk her into something entirely more dangerous than a job.
Like his bed.
Chapter Three
Two hours later, Holly sat numb in the office of a loan officer at her bank. In one hand, she gripped a tepid cup of weak tea. In the other, she clutched the paperwork spelling out her worst nightmare.
“But I don’t understand,” she said. “My divorce papers clearly state that I retain ownership of First Impressions. The business, the building—all of it belongs to me and my business partner.”
The loan officer gave her a sympathetic look and shuffled her own pile of paperwork. “That may be what your divorce decree says, but a divorcing couple can’t make an agreement that’s legally binding on a third party like a bank.”
Which her ex-husband, Chase, would have known, since he was a goddamn lawyer.
Holly bit her lip. “My ex signed a Quit Claim relinquishing any rights to the property. He’s never paid a dime toward any of it—not the down payment or the monthly payments or any taxes or interest—it’s all come straight from my account.”
“Yes, but his name is still on the mortgage. That’s a separate thing from being on the title.”
“I know that,” she said, trying her best to remember all the details they’d hashed out during the divorce. Her throat was growing tight, and it was getting tough to breathe. “But since the economy did a nosedive just a couple months after I started First Impressions, and then we divorced right after that, there was no way to refinance the loan to remove his name. The loan was underwater, even though I always made the payments on time and in full.”
“Yes, that’s how it happened for a lot of people.”
Which didn’t help Holly at all. She looked down at the paperwork again and ordered herself to keep breathing. “My ex-husband and I agreed I’d refinance and get his name off the loan as soon as the real estate market bounced back enough that it wasn’t underwater anymore.”
“A sound idea, but it appears your ex has changed his mind.”
Not the first time.
Panic inched its way up her spine.
“I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” she whispered. “We had an agreement.”
She should have known better than to believe he’d hold up his end of the deal. Hell, she should have known better than to have Chase co-sign the loan in the first place when she decided to start First Impressions. But they’d been married, for crying out loud, and the bank hadn’t been willing to loan that much in her name only.
“Maybe someone else could co-sign on a new loan with you,” the loan officer suggested. “A parent, maybe, or—”
“No, my parents don’t have that kind of money, and my business partner had some previous credit challenges that make it impossible for her to co-sign.” She took a sip of her tea, then choked a little as she tried to force it past the lump in her throat. The paper cup felt soggy in her hand, which was also how her brain felt at the moment.
“This makes no sense,” she said. “From day one, I was the only one making the payments. Chase realized right after First Impressions opened that it was going to mean more hours of work for me, not fewer, and he started badgering me to give it up and—”
She broke off there, her voice choked with unshed tears. This wasn’t the loan officer’s business. Holly had to be strong. She had to show she was a competent, professional business owner who could handle the curveballs her career threw at her.
But the curveballs from her ex-husband—well, those were something different.
“I’m sorry, Holly, but refinancing or selling might be your only options.”
She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I’ve tried everything to refinance. You know that. With the real estate market down, the value of the building is less than what I owe, so the bank won’t let me refinance even though I’ve never missed a payment.”
And selling isn’t an option. At current market prices, I’d lose everything I’ve sunk into this business, plus First Impressions would be homeless and all my employees would be out of work and—
“I’m sorry,” the loan officer said again. “If you could come up with a bigger down payment, they might let you refinance.”
“How big are we talking?”
The loan officer flipped through her paperwork and frowned. “Remember the retainer you deposited three weeks ago for that new client?”
“Yes.”
“At least triple that.”
She dropped the empty paper cup. It bounced off the edge of the desk and landed in her lap, dribbling lukewarm droplets of tea on her leg.
At least triple.
Was that even possible?
In response, she heard the echo of Ben’s voice.
“I’ll pay whatever fee you think is necessary,” he’d told her on the phone. “Triple it if you think the assignment is unusual enough to warrant it.”
She grabbed the soggy paper cup and gripped it tight in her hand. Ben.
Could she really turn down the chance to save her business based on the fear she couldn’t co
ntrol herself around Ben Langley? All the guy needed was a little help tapping into that alpha male CEO she’d glimpsed lurking inside him. He wanted professional rebranding, not an excuse to roll around naked with her.
Her thoughts veered dangerously with that mental picture—all that heat and muscle and sweat—which was probably a bad sign right off the bat.
But she forced herself to focus. All she had to do was stay professional. To do the job Ben hired her to do, then tell him good-bye once they finished their business. No illicit hookups, no messy relationships, nothing to undo all this hard work she’d put into building First Impressions from the rubble of her divorce. She’d learned her lesson already, hadn’t she?
She licked her lips and regarded the loan officer. “How long do I have?”
The woman steepled her hands on the desk. “Thirty days.”
Holly nodded, then stood on shaky legs and stuffed the paperwork in her bag. “I’ll find a way to do this.”
She turned and walked out of the office, hoping like hell she wasn’t too late to take Ben up on his offer.
“Ben, my boy!”
Ben looked up from his computer to see his father marching into his office wearing a purple polo shirt and plaid pants so hideous they had to be either very trendy or very expensive. Probably both.
Lyle Langley clapped Ben on the shoulder hard enough to knock his glasses askew, which was no small feat considering Ben was a good six inches taller than his dad.
Probably why he always slugs you when you’re sitting down, his subconscious pointed out.
He straightened his glasses, squared his shoulders, and turned to face his father. “What’s up, Dad?”
“How about we get out there and play nine holes before the Kleinberger dinner?”
“Nine holes?” Ben repeated, trying not to stare at the pants.
His father frowned. “Golf. In golf you can either play nine holes or—”
“I understand how golf works,” Ben said, knowing that was only partly true. He’d done it enough times to keep up on the course, and he’d read several books on the game so he could hold his own in golf chatter with his father’s colleagues. But honestly, the thought of playing even one hole right now made Ben want to slug himself in the forehead with a nine-iron.
