by Nicki Elson
“As you see,” Shep said in conclusion, “we haven’t done a thorough review of the funds for over a decade, and the program is tired. It’s doing fine but not great. We tend to be big believers that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, but we’re starting to feel like the pretty girl who never gets asked to the dance.”
Hayden nodded. His handsome features were earnest but calm and confident. “Yes, the investment climate has changed considerably since the mid-90s, and most investors are struggling with how to adapt. Comparatively, your funds have actually held fairly steady, so you’ve done something right. Nevertheless, a reassessment is the intelligent thing to do at this point. Miss Bates and I will approach our analysis with an eye toward continuing on with as many of your existing managers as make sense while introducing new blood to resuscitate the weaker areas.”
The lines on both sides of Shep’s leathery face creased further as he broke into a wide grin. “That’s precisely what we’re hoping for.” He glanced around at his comrades. “Looks like Beecher wasn’t bullshitting us when he said he’d give us a ringer.”
The finance officer from Dallas cleared her throat, and all eyes turned toward her. “While it’s true we’d like to continue on with as many of our existing managers as possible, we don’t want to do so blindly. So as part of this project, we’re going to require onsite visits, as well as thorough technical analysis.” She pushed two binders across the table to Hayden and Lyssa. “These are identical packets with summary information on each of our managers along with contact information.”
Hayden opened his folder, fingering through the stacks of paper. “Onsite visits are a critical part of our process. The numbers only tell us so much. There’s nothing like a face-to-face—it’s shocking what you can learn about a person simply by knowing how they prefer their coffee.”
As soon as a wry smile started to form on Lyssa’s lips, she changed it into an affable one and nodded in agreement, hoping to imply that flying around the country to indulge a single client was the normal course of business.
Gloria spoke up. “But before the general review begins, we have a matter that requires immediate attention.”
“Blaze Capital Management,” Hayden said.
Gloria gave her head a shake. “You’re quick.” She clicked back a few screens, highlighting a row of numbers. “Ever since they were taken over by Torchwood International, they’ve consistently underperformed, and we don’t have any reason to expect improvement, not after losing as many top-tier professionals as they have. We want to replace them as soon as possible.”
Shep’s voice rumbled out in a deep chuckle. “We’ll give you pups a chance to prove yourselves right off the bat. If we like what we see, we’ll let you stick around for the rest of the project.” He winked, but his measured smile told them he was dead serious.
Hayden and Lyssa simultaneously flipped their notepads to fresh sheets of paper and dove into the essential questions. After Lyssa had exhausted her limited repertoire, Hayden continued on for a while. By the time they left, they’d filled several pages with notes.
On the cab ride back to F&K’s office building, they made a game plan. Hayden wasn’t nearly as domineering as Lyssa had expected. He simply laid out what needed to be done and asked her where she felt most comfortable contributing. Because he wasn’t being a jerk about it, she didn’t mind volunteering to do the grunt work of running statistics to narrow the field of potential candidates.
“In the meantime,” Hayden said as they exited the cab and approached their building, “I’ll go through the usual suspects to see if any could be a fit for DH. You up for a trip next week?”
“Project Pineapple is my top priority. Count me in.”
“Cute,” Hayden said, holding out an arm to offer Lyssa first dibs on the revolving door. She flushed as she made the rotation, realizing Hayden hadn’t been in on the pineapple joke. As he joined her in the lobby and their shoes clicked across the shiny tile to the elevator, he asked, “You give all your clients nicknames?”
“Are you collecting more info to add to the cream no sugar data?”
Hayden laughed and pushed the up button. “Maybe.”
“Should we tell the reports team to get working on a new chart, then? Maybe a line graph made of little coffee beans? Or should this be three-dimensional to take into account cream and sugar ratios in addition to nickname giving?”
“Laugh all you want, Bate, my methods work.”
She rolled her eyes as the elevator arrived and they stepped in.
One side of Hayden’s mouth rose in a smirk, and his eyes locked onto hers. “You’re just afraid of what I might’ve already figured out about you.”
There was no way he’d learned anything about her just by the kind of coffee she preferred. And yet … there was something unnerving about the steadiness with which he watched her. Like he knew things. The door opened, and they nodded to the receptionist as they passed, pushing through the glass doors to the main hall.
“So … ” Lyssa started, but he cut her off with the answer before she’d formed her question.
“Strong and black.” He pivoted toward his office. As he moved down the hall in the opposite direction of Lyssa’s cubicle, she was very glad she couldn’t see the smug grin she was certain must’ve graced his features.
* * *
“You’re already so delicious,” Keith murmured, his lips groping Lyssa’s neck as he worked his way to her chin and then straight down to the tops of her breasts, which bulged over the top of her cami. She wore only that and a pair of bikini panties.
Earlier that evening, she and her boyfriend had cut into the congratulatory pineapple he’d brought her the week before. They wanted to test the urban legend they’d heard about the effect of the tropical fruit on the flavor of human secretions after digestion. They’d agreed it’d be best for Keith to go first since Lyssa deserved the first reward of the pineapple.
His hands pushed under the elastic of her undies and clutched at her fleshy bottom while his tongue pushed below her thin top to flick at a protruding nipple. “God, Lyss, you’re beautiful,” he said between mouthfuls.
She held his dirty blond head to her and pushed her pelvis into him, letting him know she was ready. It always took her a bit to become comfortable with the idea of someone sticking his face between her legs. He pushed his body into hers until she lay sideways across the open futon, and then he kissed his way down her body until reaching his goal and sliding off the fabric that covered it.
His tongue was warm and wet as he probed, and Lyssa held her smile tight, holding back a laugh at the initial contact, which always tickled to a nearly unbearable degree. As her tender labia became accustomed to the steady rhythm of his licks, she relaxed. “Any sweeter?” she asked.
He pulled back slightly, and she felt his breath on her wetness as he huffed. “You’re always sweet, baby. But yeah, maybe a little sweeter.” He gave her several small kisses and then went in deeper, reemerging to add, “I’m sure the big payoff will happen when you come.”
“Ah.” Leaning her head all the way back, she closed her eyes, thinking, No pressure. She didn’t have the greatest orgasm average when it came to oral.
While Keith worked at her, she hitched one leg over his shoulder and combed her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. She didn’t want to disappoint him by not climaxing—especially tonight, when it promised to pour forth Pina Colada-flavored juices. She relished his tender ministrations and did what she could to coax his head to the angle she desired. When he hit a particularly receptive spot, she encouraged him with a soft, “Yeah, that’s good.” But after a couple more swipes, he failed to re-strike the chord and moved on.
It all felt very nice, but Lyssa found herself yearning for … more. The vibrator was in the drawer of the side table. Reaching her arm over her head, she stretched her fingers but swiped at air, inches away from the drawer pull. She could tell Keith to hold up for a moment while she grabbed th
e toy and fired it up, but her intuition told her that after kicking him out of bed the week before, it might not be wise to blatantly pre-empt him in favor of her new favorite gadget. Even still, as enthusiastic as his tongue was, it simply wasn’t humanly possible for him to reach the speeds she now craved. Maybe if she slowly eased the device into their activity, he wouldn’t mind.
Digging one of her heels into the mattress and pushing into it, she slowly inched herself across the bed. Keith followed along, not seeming to notice. Almost there but not quite. She made a quick lunge, grabbing at the drawer, and didn’t notice that the motion had tilted her pelvis, causing her thigh to crush into her boyfriend’s ear.
“What the hell are you doing?” He jerked his head away and stared at her outstretched arms. Three of her fingertips rested on the drawer pull.
“I … I thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to bring some vibration into the action.” The way his eyebrows flinched stopped her from pursuing her goal. Instead, she brought her arms down to push up on her elbows. “It was just an idea.”
“How exactly are both me and that supposed to be down here?”
She gave a small shrug. “I was thinking this could get me going and then you could swoop in for the kill at the last moment.”
“At the last moment.” He pushed away from her, flopping onto his back. “Because I’m not capable of working you up to that point. Did you not enjoy it at all?”
“What? Yes.” She scooted down the mattress so her head was even with his and leaned over him, tracing his lean chest muscle with her thumb. “It felt really nice.”
“Nice? Now there’s a ringing endorsement—‘He gives nice head.’”
Lyssa laughed. “Well, it’s not like I’m going to put out an ad for you. Why would I do that when I want to keep you all to myself?” She peppered his chin with baby kisses and worked down his throat to his nearly hairless chest, relishing the feel of his firm, smooth muscles under her warm mouth. He was a runner and also dabbled in martial arts and whatever else was the current rage in nerd culture. While most of her friends were into muscle mass, she’d always had a thing for skinny guys with hidden power in their taut, wiry frames. She slid her tongue over him, taking turns teasing each of his nipples into a stiff nubbin. “Let’s forget about me and move on to you, hm? I’m thirsty for a pineapple-Keith daiquiri.”
He didn’t object.
Chapter Three
Hayden waved at Lyssa, who’d made it to O’Hare International Airport a full ten minutes earlier than she’d planned. Her partner stood in front of the check-in kiosks with his overnight bag at his feet and his boarding pass in the hand he’d just flagged her down with.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she said.
“I know, but this way I’d know sooner if you were late and would be able to call to give you a nudge.”
“How did you know I wasn’t already at the gate?”
He shrugged his non-committal answer. “Did you already print your pass?”
“Yep.”
They walked over to the line for security, and she updated him on the slight changes to their itinerary as they wove their way through the tethered maze. They were flying to New York to interview two contenders to replace Blaze Capital Management in DH’s investment program and then would catch a quick flight to Boston for a meeting the following morning with Bell Funds, the third candidate.
After making their way through the scanner with no incident, they waited for their things to be ferried through their own scan. Lyssa snatched her zip-locked toiletries, purse, and shoes as soon as the conveyor belt brought the tray to her, but her carry-on bag reversed back into the machine just as quickly as it appeared. The security officer studied the screen. “Gonna have to search it,” he murmured, and then started the conveyor belt again, lifting her bag when it emerged and taking it to a side table.
Lyssa fumbled to get her ankle-high boots on and hobbled over to the table mid zip so she could keep an eye on what was happening with her bag. By the time she straightened to stand all the way up, Hayden was right behind her with his shiny black shoes tied and his jacket neatly draped over his arm.
“You can head for the gate if you want,” Lyssa said. “Oh, and coffee’s on me this time, if you don’t mind getting it.” She reached into her purse for her wallet.
“You can buy, but I’ll wait.”
When Lyssa turned toward him, she saw his eyes fixed on the contents of her bag while the airport guy pawed through it. She could only imagine what her partner thought he was learning about her now. Returning her focus to the bag, she squelched a gasp when the guy pulled her makeup bag up from the bottom, unzipping it. His gloved fingertip pushed aside eyeliners and lipsticks to reveal a baggie containing a four-inch-long, white tube. It had a clear, spiky rubber cap on the end, which Lyssa hoped wasn’t obvious through the wrinkled plastic encasing it. The on/off switch along the side would be pretty hard to miss, though.
The man closed the makeup case and returned it to the bottom of her luggage. “You’re good to go,” he said as he zipped up her bag and pushed it toward her.
She refused to look at Hayden even while she told herself he was an adult and a Pocket Rocket in a woman’s overnight bag was no big deal. They’d just walk down the hall to the gate, return to business talk, and that would be it. And then, about halfway down the hall, the silence got to her. Glancing toward him, she blurted, “It’s a flashlight. In case of emergency.”
“Uh huh.” Hayden kept his eyes straight ahead. His inflection had implied he didn’t believe her, but his lack of follow-up graciously indicated he also didn’t require an explanation.
* * *
New York City was warm, but the ocean breeze cut the humidity. During a pit stop in a public restroom after the eight-block walk between the first and second meeting, Lyssa was able to easily blot off her thin layer of sweat with just a few squares of institutional toilet paper. When she stepped back into the worn lobby, she didn’t see Hayden and wondered if he’d proceeded to the investment manager’s fourth-floor suite without her. Her mind eased when the men’s room door creaked open.
Her partner had removed his jacket and loosened his tie during the walk, but now every thread was back in place. He once again looked like the poster boy for “The Hottest Men on Wall Street.” They traversed the cracked and yellowing tile to the bank of ancient elevators, and as he reached to push the brass button, he said, “I think you should take the lead on this one.”
“What? Me?”
“Yeah, you.” His steely blues fixed on her. If he hadn’t been holding his briefcase, Lyssa was sure he’d have been folding his arms across his chest in a dare. “Think you can handle it?”
Lyssa nodded with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. She’d led a few brief, introductory meetings with investment managers before, but nothing as in-depth as what they were doing that day and never on the manager’s home turf. But her experience in the business world had taught her that the ability to pretend she knew what she was doing was often more valuable than actually knowing. So when the ding sounded, she slid on a smile. “No problem. Follow my lead and try to keep up.” Winking, she resisted the urge to condescendingly slap Hayden’s rear as she moved past him into the elevator.
He gave her a few helpful pointers on the way up, but three steps before the entrance to Ardent Capital’s suite, he added, “Also, watch the um’s and stop biting your erasers.”
She halted and turned to glare at him. Why would he throw her off like that right before walking in?
“Sorry,” he said, “But it’s never a good idea to start out too cocky.” Side-stepping around her, he crossed to the door and pulled it open, gesturing her through. She was too irritated—and nervous—to even glance toward him as she brushed past. She wished she’d have thought to hold her breath too so she wouldn’t have taken in the provokingly yummy scent of his now familiar cologne.
During the meeting, Hayden pulled back like he said h
e would, and Lyssa dug into the investment process and depth of professionals while also assessing Ardent’s intentions for future growth. On the tour of the facilities that followed, Hayden’s natural tendency to lead took over, and Lyssa didn’t mind the opportunity to let him do the work of questioning while she sat back and observed.
When she and her partner were once again alone, side-by-side as the elevator lowered to the ground floor, he nudged her shoulder with his. “You did a good job in there.” Tiny sparks snapped inside her … and she hated herself a little bit for feeling as elated as she did by his compliment.
In the cab and at the airport, they both checked their phones and returned messages, so it wasn’t until after they’d settled in on the short flight to Boston that they got around to discussing the investment managers they’d met with.
“What did you think?” Hayden asked.
“Of which one?” Lyssa turned from her view of the clouds.
“Both.”
“Everything seems to check out. I didn’t note any red flags, so I don’t see any reason not to recommend either one of them.”
“DH isn’t looking for managers with no reason not to hire them—we’ve got to give them reasons to hire them. Frankly, I don’t think either one is the best fit.”
“Why not? They’ve got decent track records, impressive staff, and sound processes. They both stay consistently within the large cap value quadrant, the slot DH needs to fill.”
Hayden wrinkled his nose. “That’s just it—they’re too plain vanilla. We can’t put either forth as the top contender, not for our first rec. We’ve got to show we have something new and exciting to offer.”