Choose Me

by Donya Lynne

  Katherine finishes perusing the handful of entrees. “The seared scallops, please.”

  “And I’ll have the black bass.” I collect Katherine’s menu with mine and hand them over.

  With an elegant flourish, our server takes the menus and nods, and then he’s gone.

  I meet Katherine’s fiery brown eyes again. She’s even more beautiful tonight than she was Saturday. The yellow dress was lovely on her, but the black-and-red blouse, with only the top two buttons demurely unfastened to reveal a hint of skin, is even lovelier. More understated. I get the sense this is more Katherine’s normal look than that slinky cocktail dress.

  “You look nice.”

  She angles her head away from me, narrowing her eyes. “Smooth talk isn’t going to change my mind, Greyson.”

  I laugh. “I’m not smooth talking you. I’m paying you a compliment.” I lean toward her. “The polite thing would be to say thank you.”

  She briefly presses her lips together then smiles benignly. “Thank you.” Her fingers play over the side of her glass as her eyes quickly scan from my face to my chest then glance away. “You look nice, too.”

  It’s an awkward moment. Before tonight, things were a lot simpler between us. I knew her first name, and she knew mine. Other than that, the extent of what we knew about each other was that we had off-the-charts sexual chemistry. The kind of sexual chemistry two people could build a life around, because sex wouldn’t be that good unless we were compatible in other, more important ways.

  At least, that’s what I want to believe.

  Why does she have to be Freedom’s CEO? That throws a fucked-up wrench into my whole plan. How can I sleep with the woman I’m negotiating with to buy her company? And how can I buy the company of the woman I’m sleeping with?

  We’ve only had sex one time, but in my mind, I’ve already got the next month with her planned out, starting with Friday night at the Red Room. I’ll be honest, I’ve planned a lot of sex in that month. Maybe not for Friday night, but definitely soon thereafter.

  Now I have to rethink everything.

  “I’m as surprised at this turn of events as you are, Katherine. I had no idea you even worked for Freedom, let alone that you were Robert’s daughter.”

  She sighs. “So you had no idea Saturday night that I was . . . well . . . who I am? You weren’t trying to lure me in or anything?”

  Does she really think my time with her Saturday night was part of some greater plot to compromise her position within the company and persuade her to make a deal with me? “No. Absolutely not.” I want to reach across the table and take her hand, but I don’t. “I had no idea who you were until you showed up here this evening.”

  She sighs, nods in understanding, then stares into her wine glass. After a short pause, she groans and closes her eyes as she covers her face with her hand. “Oh my God. Saturday night. You must think I’m some kind of slut.” She avoids my gaze and makes an uncomfortable sound that’s a cross between a groan and a chuckle.

  This time I do take her hand. I peel it away from her face and wrap it inside mine. “Actually, I think you’re some kind of amazing.” And there it is again, that same connection I felt with her Saturday. The invisible burn that links me to her in a carnally supernatural way and makes me want to do naughty things with her in nice places.

  She rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on.”

  “No, really.” I stroke her knuckles with my thumb, and it’s like I’ve struck two pieces of flint together to create a spark. She pulls in her breath as her gaze falls to our joined hands. “I’ve never known a woman like you. That hasn’t changed now that I know who you are.”

  She drags her gaze back to mine and searches my face. “I’ve never done anything like that. Like what we did . . . you know . . . Saturday . . .”

  “Me neither.” I grin as I feel her fingers tighten around mine. “But it was pretty liberating, wasn’t it?”

  She laughs. “I was thinking more along the lines of unbelievably reckless.”

  “Reckless and liberating are practically the same thing.”

  “I know a lot of people who would disagree with you.”

  “So do I, but they aren’t me. They aren’t us.”

  Warmth emanates from her expression. “What are you saying? That what most people would consider reckless is merely liberating for us?”

  “Something like that.” I gaze at her for a heartbeat then reluctantly pull my hand from hers, taking us back to neutral ground. “At least, that sounds better.” I hate the absence of her touch, but the connection is still there. It’s strong and magnetic, making my blood heat in the most arousing way. How am I going to get through this dinner without wanting to kiss her? Or more?

  “So, Katherine, maybe you should start by telling me why you’re here instead of your father?” I simply can’t call her Kate, which doesn’t do her justice. To me, she’s Katherine, which sounds so much more refined and distinguished. Kate sounds like the name of an intern, not a CEO.

  She wraps her fingers around the base of her wine glass as if she needs something to do with her hand now that I’m no longer holding it. “Like I said, he retired Friday.”

  “But he could have cancelled or called to let us know we needed to reschedule with you.”

  She shakes her head, her expression light. “He told me this afternoon that he wanted me to take the meeting in his place. Granted, I didn’t think I’d be meeting you.”

  I fold my hands one over the other and lean toward her. “What was that you were saying about doing your research?”

  She rolls her eyes and smirks. “Hey, my dad just sprung this meeting on me a few hours ago, and I had a lot to do now that I’m taking over, so I’m doing well just to be here.”

  “Are you disappointed? I mean, to find out the meeting was with me?”

  Her eyes dart to mine, and she only hesitates for a second before saying, “No.” She blows out an abrupt, amused breath. “Thrown off, yes, but not disappointed.” Her gaze softens as it holds mine. “But I should be, knowing the nature of this meeting.”

  The message is clear. After what we shared two nights ago, disappointment at seeing one another again isn’t even remotely near the top of her list of reactions to my being here.

  I grin. “At least now I know your last name.”

  She laughs quietly. “True.” She glances down at her glass of wine, studying it briefly. “I feel a little silly.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t know who you were when I met you. I feel like I should have known. We’re in the same industry. How didn’t I know?”

  I smirk as I lift my wine glass. “And once again, I’m inclined to remind you that you’re the one who criticized me for not doing better research on you.”

  She holds up her hand and nods impatiently, but with a chagrined smile on her face. “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point. But in my defense, I’m not the one looking to buy your company. I don’t need to do as much research on you as you do on me, especially when I didn’t even know I’d be coming here until this afternoon.”

  I chuckle and shift in my seat, getting more comfortable. “I’m only teasing, Katherine. I tend to stay out of the public eye, so I’m not surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

  Our server returns with our appetizer and places the small oval platter between us, along with two small plates. I start building a plate for her. “But my company is competition. You should always know your competition.” I pass her a plate of tagliatelle. Whole shrimp are generously laced within the savory noodles.

  “But you’re not direct competition.”

  “We’re close enough.”

  She rolls her eyes and laughs again. “You’re as bad as Jess. She’s always busting my balls, too.”

  “Women don’t have balls to bust.”

  She swirls noodles around her fork and tosses me a flirtatiously flippant glance. “They’re called lady balls. Only the toughest bitches have them.”
>
  I lean intimately across the table so she’s forced to meet my gaze. “Why can’t I see you as a tough bitch?”

  Her eyebrows shoot into her forehead as she leans over her plate, mimicking me. “You just haven’t gotten to know me well enough, yet.”

  “Then maybe I should.”

  “What? Now?”

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” I rock back and twirl pasta around my fork, eyeing her. “Why not?”

  She relaxes and sets down her fork to take a drink of wine. “I thought we were here to discuss you buying Freedom.”

  I shrug while taking another buttery bite of my appetizer. “Since you brought it up, I’ll admit I think our two companies could be great together. Freedom has an incredible presence in the bicycle market, which Rugged would love to have, and Rugged has a strong global presence, which Freedom needs to take the next step in their growth. And as I already mentioned, unlike Freedom’s other potential suitor, Star Rider—”

  “Star Rider wants to buy Freedom, too?”

  I hold up my hand. “They haven’t officially thrown their hat in the ring, but my attorney has connections, and they’re definitely building an offer. But”—I take another bite of my appetizer—“as I was saying, unlike Star Rider, I have no interest in dismantling your company. Other than rearranging a few chains of command, I want to leave Freedom’s infrastructure intact. In fact, my plan involves adding personnel and creating new positions so that redundant personnel can remain with the company.” I give her a moment to process what I’ve said. “In my opinion, Katherine, joining our companies is the perfect marriage. Not only would it protect you from another company who simply wants to steal the results of your and your father’s hard work, but it would be a win-win for both of us. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have even considered the idea.” I wash down my pasta with a swallow of wine. “But you’ve already made it clear you don’t want to sell, so what else is there to talk about? If your mind is set, why not use tonight to get to know each other better?”

  I’ve planted the seed. That’s all I wanted to do with this meeting. I just thought I’d be doing it with her father.

  The truth is, I won’t back down. Not where my desire to buy Freedom Cycle is concerned, and not where my desire to learn more about her is concerned, either.

  Brent would tell me not to mix business with pleasure. That getting involved with Katherine while I’m trying to buy her company is a terrible idea. A horrible idea. Disastrous in every way imaginable.

  But when does an adrenaline junkie like me walk away from a risk?

  I jump out of perfectly good airplanes and plummet to the earth at two hundred miles per hour, for Christ’s sake. Mixing business with pleasure is small potatoes.

  And why would I walk away from Katherine? I’ve searched my whole adult life for a woman like her. I’m not going to stop seeing her just because of a little thing like mergers and acquisitions.

  She quietly bites into a piece of shrimp, eyeing me with curious skepticism, as if she doesn’t quite believe I’m willing to give up the chase. She also appears to be somewhat intrigued for the first time since this awkward business meeting started, as if she actually wants to hear more about my interest in her company.

  But I’m done talking business for the evening. For the rest of the night, it’s all about her and me. I want to know more about Katherine than just her last name, where she works, and that she’s the damn sexiest woman I’ve ever met.

  _________

  Katherine

  As Greyson spelled out the general points of his plan to buy Freedom, I became suddenly aware of just how delicious he looks tonight. He’s wearing a tailored navy blue suit with a matching tie patterned with tiny, fleur-de-lis over a light-blue shirt with a white collar.

  I was right Saturday night. He does look as good in a suit as he does in a shirt and slacks. I bet he’d look even more delectable in a pair of hiking shorts and a T-shirt . . . or wearing nothing but beach shorts and a tan.

  When I walked in and realized he was Mr. James, I didn’t know what to think or even what to do. My body lit up like Fourth of July fireworks when his eyes met mine and the memories of Saturday night rocketed through me.

  But I also felt betrayed.

  Not by him, but by life. What are the odds that I would meet this incredible, sexy man who can please me like no other, and then find out two days later that he’s some business mogul who wants to buy my company? It made me angry, and I didn’t waste any time during the first five minutes of our meeting to let him know that.

  But now I’ve calmed down, and so has he, and anger has turned to curiosity. He hinted at his reasons for wanting to buy Freedom, and I’ll admit I’m intrigued, mostly because it doesn’t sound like Greyson wants to break up the company or completely take it over like I assumed. It sounds more like he’s interested in a partnership where the owning interest is his but the operations and control would remain mine.

  Freedom has been trying to break into the international market for years but has never been able to gain enough traction. Now, here comes Greyson, who seems to want to use his company’s international presence to boost ours.

  “What’s the catch?” I ask, pushing my empty plate aside.

  “What do you mean?” he replies, pulling out his phone and tapping the screen a few times.

  “Why do you want to buy Freedom so badly? Is it because of Harness?” I imagine a lot of companies would love to get their hands on that technology.

  “No more business tonight,” he says, keeping his eyes on his phone.

  “But—”

  “You said you weren’t interested in selling, so let’s not spend any more time discussing it.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do, Greyson.”

  He sets his phone down. “What am I trying to do?

  “You’re using reverse psychology on me. Trying to make me think you’re not interested now when, really, you’re more interested than ever. You have no intention of letting up on this.”

  His right eyebrow quirks upward with amusement. “You might be right about that, Ms. Clayton, but what I’m really trying to do—at least for the rest of the evening”—he looks up from his phone and locks gazes with me—“is get to know you better.”

  “I thought you wanted to talk about how our two companies would make the perfect marriage.”

  “Not anymore.” He scoots a little closer on the leather seat and taps the side of his phone so it spins around where I can see it.

  I lean to the side and read what’s on his screen. “‘Fifty Questions to Ask to Get to Know Someone?’” I glance up at him after reading the title of the article he’s pulled up. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Can’t you come up with your own questions?”

  He grins and taps the screen of his phone again as he rotates it back toward him. “Sure I can, but these questions are a lot more fun to ask, and probably more fun to answer, too.”

  I stare dubiously at his phone. Tonight was supposed to be about business. That was until my meeting turned out to be with Greyson. Now I’m not sure what we should be discussing. I’m fairly certain going down a personal path with someone interested in acquiring Freedom is a bad idea, but I’m not convinced I can stop myself.

  “Look, Katherine.” He takes my hand in both of his. “I’ve laid out my rough proposal regarding our two companies. Once you’ve had a chance to think about it, if you’re interested in hearing more, we’ll set up another meeting to discuss the details. But right now, I don’t want to talk about my company or your company or any company at all. I want to talk about you.”

  He searches my eyes, and I’m drawn in as deeply as I was at Alesca the moment I saw him. I don’t know if there are forces at work in the universe that demand I be attracted to him, if meeting him was nothing more than a coincidence, or if he’s putting off a personal brand of pheromones that makes it as impossible for me to walk away from him as it does f
or an addict to walk away from heroin. Whatever it is about Greyson James that stirs not just my attraction but my passion, I want more of it.

  Surrendering, I glance toward his phone then meet his eyes. “Okay, Mr. James. What do you want to ask me first?”

  _________

  Greyson

  She’s waiting, watching me expectantly, her eyes shimmering fiery brown in the dim candlelight from the table’s centerpiece. A hidden sense of adventure sparkles in their depths.

  I smile and glance down at my phone, but the first question I want to ask isn’t on the list I pulled up.

  I look back up and drink in her stunningly beautiful smile. It’s time to reveal the layers that make us who we are. Time to learn who the other is. Time to see if what we found Saturday night was real and worth pursuing or just a passing fancy. After all, a relationship can’t be built on sex alone. There needs to be more to it than that if it’s going to last.

  “Did you always want to follow in your father’s footsteps and take over the company someday?”

  The question comes from a personal place inside me. One that sometimes feels guilty that I didn’t follow in my father’s footsteps. My dad was not only a miracle worker with cars, but also an artist. Maybe my guilt stems from the fact that I knew I could never live up to his talent, so I chose to make my own path. But not only is Katherine’s father still alive, she’s also taking up his legacy in a way I never got the chance to with my dad.

  “When I was a little girl, I actually wanted to be a surgeon when I grew up.”

  “A surgeon? That’s quite an aspiration for a little girl.”

  Coy flirtation dances over her face. “I wasn’t your average little girl.”

  “Somehow I totally believe you.” She’s an above-average woman, and—in my own way—I’m an above-average man. I’d say we’re a match.

  “My mom’s favorite TV show when I was growing up was ER,” she says. “I remember us watching that show together faithfully every week. I thought it was so exciting and fascinating how they brought in patients and the doctors performed miracles, saving them, and I just knew that’s what I wanted to do when I grew up.”