Carson shook his head. “I’m certainly sorry about what happened today, but that’s not what I was apologizing for. I actually was talking about that kiss by the lake.”
Georgia’s soft, friendly expression hardened. He could tell she was uncomfortable with his bringing it up. “Carson, I—”
“No, let me say this,” he interrupted. “In the moment, it felt like the right thing to do. But after what happened today, I realize just how inappropriate it was. If I don’t recognize that, I’m just as bad as he is.”
Georgia reached across the table and took Carson’s hand. “You will never, ever be anything like that man. Don’t even think that for a second.”
Carson looked into her gray eyes, noting the touch of olive green that radiated from the center. It was an unusual color, one he’d never seen before. Her gaze seemed to penetrate him, as if she were seeing inside him in a way that made him uncomfortable. He looked down at their hands, which were still clasped atop the polished wood table.
It was only then that he allowed himself to notice how soft her skin felt against his. As he grasped her fingers, the blood started to hum in his veins. He remembered the sensation from the field, knew how long it would take him to recover from the reaction she stirred in him.
He didn’t understand it. Georgia was beautiful, but Carson had touched his fair share of beautiful women. She was smart and funny, and he’d been around women like that, too. But never, not once since he broke the seal on his manhood in high school, had a woman affected him the way Georgia did. Lately all it took was the lingering scent of her perfume in the hallways at work, and he was consumed with thoughts of her.
Carson hated Sutton for putting the moves on Georgia, but he understood fully why he had done it. She had the power to enchant a man without even trying. A million dollars was chump change to Sutton, especially when it was a corporate write-off, but it was still a significant offer. If it came to it, what would Carson be willing to pay to keep her with him?
All that and more.
Looking up, he realized Georgia’s expression had changed. She was no longer softly consoling him. Now her brow was lined with concern, and he realized it was because he was still holding her hand as though he might be repelled from the face of the earth if he didn’t cling to her.
He immediately let her hand go and buried his own beneath the table. “I’m sorry. That probably just made it worse. I…I don’t know why I have such a hard time maintaining a professional distance when I’m around you, Georgia. I’ve never had this problem before.”
She nodded curtly and took another large drink, finishing off her glass without meeting his gaze. “I understand. We’re both human, after all. We work together a lot, so the temptation is there. But we’re strong, smart people. We can fight it.”
Georgia said the words, but as he looked at her, he wasn’t entirely sure she believed them. For the first time, the pieces started to click together in Carson’s mind. She’d said “we,” as in she was attracted to him, as well. That would certainly explain her flushed cheeks when he greeted her in the hallway and her more than enthusiastic response to his kiss. It was one thing for him to be attracted to her, but knowing the feeling was mutual would make this all ten times harder.
They needed to focus on work. That was what they were good at, what offered the best distraction. Going over their conversation about Sutton in his mind, he decided to talk strategy going forward. “So what is our next step?” he asked. “We’ve got to secure that land no matter what Sutton wants.”
A sly smile spread across Georgia’s face. There was a twinkle of mischief in her gray eyes as she looked at him and said, “Next, we play dirty.”
* * *
Smile. Look into the camera. Focus.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming today,” Georgia began, ignoring the camera flashes and microphones in her face. Because she was PR director, press conferences fell into her job description, but she was always filled with nerves in front of the camera. Especially today. This was her moment to turn the tide with the land deal, and she couldn’t screw it up.
“The Newport Corporation is a family company. It was founded by brothers Brooks, Graham and Carson Newport as a small real estate venture that turned into much more. CEO Carson Newport once told me that he knew they were a success when they were able to buy their mother, Cynthia Newport, a home and let her retire early.
“The love these three men had for their mother is why I’ve asked you to be here today. With her newfound free time, Cynthia discovered a purpose in working with sick children at the local hospital. She spent hours there reading stories, playing games and helping children forget—if for just a short time—about the pain and fear they lived with each day.”
Georgia looked down at her notes and confirmed her next point. “The entire Newport Corporation was extremely saddened to hear about the sudden loss of Cynthia Newport two months ago. Without warning, she was stricken with a brain aneurysm, and there was nothing that could be done. She was only fifty-five years old.
“Cynthia’s sons have decided that the best way to honor their mother’s memory is to put their resources and expertise into the cause that was so dear to her heart. Ladies and gentleman,” she said, reaching for the easel beside her, “I give you the plans for the Cynthia Newport Memorial Hospital for Children.”
She removed a blank placard and revealed the artist’s rendering of the hospital underneath. Georgia waited a moment for the cameras to stop flashing before she continued. “Newport Memorial will be the most sophisticated facility for children in the US. They will provide cutting-edge technology, the best treatment and the most skilled staff available.”
Georgia spied Carson standing near the back of the crowd of reporters. Quite a few had showed up today for the press conference, huddling in a semicircle in the garden courtyard of the Newport building. Even then, he was easy to spot, especially with his brother, Brooks, beside him. The COO was almost always the tallest man in the room unless Graham was in the office. The two of them were like Norse gods in expensive suits.
Carson was like a demigod, half man, half immortal. Just real enough for her to feel like she could stand a chance with him, but enough of a fantasy to keep her pessimistic feet firmly planted on the ground.
Losing her place in the speech, she tore her gaze away and flicked over the neatly printed lines of the press statement. “After an exhaustive search, the Newport Corporation has identified an ideal spot for the hospital overlooking Lake Michigan. Unfortunately, we are not the only company with our eyes on the land. Recently, Elite Industries has announced, perhaps prematurely, their plans to build luxury condominiums along the water.
“It is our hope that with enough community support, we can make the Newport Memorial Hospital a reality, no matter how much money our competitors might try to throw around. The community needs this facility for our children far more than we need additional fancy housing for Chicago’s wealthy.”
She reached for the artist’s rendering and set it aside to display a graphic of their social media campaign. “Show your support by posting on social media using the hashtag #NewportMemorial4Kids and letting the community know how you feel. Together, we can make this dream a reality. Now, I’ll be taking any questions.”
Georgia fielded about ten questions from the reporters about the project before ending the press conference. “Thank you,” she said as she gathered up her note cards and slipped away from the podium. Moving through the crowd packing up their equipment, she found Carson and Brooks at the back where they’d been standing earlier. “How’d I do?” she asked.
“Amazing,” Carson said with a pleased grin.
“There’s no way Winchester’s offer stands a chance with the seller after that.” Brooks held up his cell phone. “Two of the stations aired this live, and there have already been over two
hundred tweets under our hashtag. When this re-airs during the evening news, it will explode.”
Georgia gave a heavy sigh of relief. She hoped this worked. If the owners were more interested in money, Winchester could still win them over.
After the press cleared out, they headed back upstairs to the executive floor. Brooks followed Carson into his office, where they poured a celebratory glass of scotch.
“Would you care for a drink, Georgia?” Brooks asked. “You certainly earned it.”
“Actually, I think I’ll pass,” she said. The adrenaline that had gotten her though the press conference was fading, and she was ready to crash. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’d like to catch an early train home and watch our segment on the news on the couch with some takeout.”
She dismissed the flicker of disappointment on Carson’s face. “Understandable,” he said. “Keep the phone nearby, though. If the seller accepts our offer, you’ll be the first person I call.”
Georgia gave them a wave and slipped down the hallway to her office. She quickly gathered her things. If she could get to the “L” platform in the next ten minutes, she’d catch the express train.
She found herself at her building about a half hour later. Once she reached her apartment door, she gave a heavy sigh of relief. Georgia loved her loft. It was the first thing she’d bought when she secured her first real executive position with a major company. She could barely afford it at the time but she had been desperate to be able finally to have a home of her own.
She hadn’t had the easiest time growing up. Her mother had been a teenage runaway when she was born. Georgia didn’t remember much about those early years, but her caseworker, Sheila, had told her when she was older that her mother had developed a heroin addiction and was working as a prostitute for drugs. Georgia had been taken away and placed in foster care when she was only three.
From there, she’d become a Ping-Pong ball, bouncing from place to place. She never lived anywhere longer than a year, and none of those places ever felt like home. She tried not to let her mind dwell too much on her childhood in Detroit, but she’d let enough of the dirty homes, strict or even abusive foster parents and secondhand everything through to let her appreciate what she had now.
This loft, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and modern, industrial elements, was everything she’d ever wanted. The walls were painted in warm, inviting colors and the plush furniture was overflowing with pillows. The kitchen was state-of-the-art despite the fact that she never cooked. She could swim in her master bathtub and have a party in the shower. She had a service come in to clean once a week, so the place was always spotless.
It was wonderful. The perfect escape from the world. Even the longest, hardest day at the office couldn’t keep the smile from her face when she walked in the door each evening.
Tonight she went through her nightly ritual. She set down her purse and disappeared into the bedroom to change. She reemerged ten minutes later with her blond hair in a knot on the top of her head, her face scrubbed free of makeup and her favorite pair of pajamas on. She poured herself a glass of pinot grigio and grabbed her favorite Chinese delivery menu before she collapsed on her suede sofa.
The delivery man arrived with her dinner with just minutes to spare before the evening newscast. The segment on the Newport Corporation was in the second news block when she was about halfway through her kung pao chicken. She didn’t like watching herself on camera, but she forced herself to do it anyway. Her speech professor had made all the students do it. It was the only way to truly see the nervous ticks and language crutches she used when she spoke in public.
All in all, not bad. Her voice was sultry, like a phone sex operator, but there was nothing she could do about it. She’d tried a million times to alter it, but it sounded fake. On the upside, she used the word “uh” only twice and she didn’t use “like” at all. Professor Kline would be very proud of her.
At the end of the segment, the news station flashed the campaign hashtag on the screen and encouraged viewers to use it to show their support. Georgia reached for her phone to check on the response. There were thousands of posts on Twitter with even more on other platforms. They were even trending.
Georgia chewed nervously at her thumbnail as she watched the posts scroll down the screen. This might actually work. She really, truly hoped so. The idea of Winchester taking that land and building condos on it made her stomach turn. She knew from experience that things weren’t always fair or just in life, but she certainly hoped she was about to outsmart the system.
The rest of the newscast dragged on. She sat in front of the TV, idly chewing her dinner and not listening to anything. She was waiting for that phone to ring. It just had to ring.
She was on her second glass of wine when the news ended, and still no call. Georgia paced anxiously across the concrete floor, gazing out at her view of the city. The sun was just setting, making the Chicago skyline a stark silhouette against the golden glow of the sky. Lights were starting to turn on around town, slowly transforming the hard, industrial shapes of downtown into a sparkling constellation.
Georgia was so lost in her thoughts that when the phone rang, she jumped nearly six inches off the ground. Turning on her heel, she ran back to the kitchen and snatched her phone off the countertop. It was Carson.
She held her breath in anticipation as she picked up. “Yes?” she answered.
“Our offer has been accepted!” he announced triumphantly. “They said it was the highest and in the end, they decided to accept it and not start a bidding war because of the newscast. We got it, Georgia, and it’s all because of your hard work.”
“Thanks,” she said, dismissing his compliment. “It’s not hard to get behind a project like this when the lives of sick children are at stake. It made my work pretty easy, I have to say. I’m very happy our project can go forward.”
“It will. Once the paperwork is signed, I want to have a grand groundbreaking ceremony. Your group will be heading up that effort. But first, we’re going to kick off the project with a cocktail party on Friday night to celebrate. Rebecca is putting it together as we speak. Wear your dancing shoes.”
FOUR
The sale was really happening. The lawyers were handling the details and it was off Georgia’s plate. At least for now. Once the land was officially the property of the Newport Corporation, she would start the groundbreaking-ceremony preparation. After that, she had no doubt there would be charity fund-raiser events and a million other tasks on her plate to handle.
But tonight was for celebration, not work.
Carson’s assistant had rented out a chic little bistro on the Magnificent Mile for the party. Wine was flowing like water, a jazz band was playing at a tasteful level in the corner and everyone was mingling and laughing. Every employee, from the janitor to the executives, had loved Cynthia. They knew how important this was to the brothers and were excited about this being the next new project on the agenda.
Folks had put on their fanciest cocktail attire for the night. At least, the women had. There was a rainbow of slinky and sparkly dresses in the room. Georgia herself had opted for a muted gold snakeskin cocktail dress by Tom Ford. It was a little showy, but with a high, scooped neck and long sleeves, it was also very modest, which she liked. The gold complemented her skin tone and brought out the darker tones of her platinum hair. The dress also didn’t really need any jewelry to enhance it, so she’d been able to wear a simple pair of diamond stud earrings.
As usual, the men fell back on their arsenal of suits, although Georgia didn’t mind a bit. She enjoyed the look of a man in a nice suit, especially the Newport brothers. Theirs were custom fitted to their broad shoulders and narrow hips. All three of them were milling around the room, drinks in hand. They were a ridiculously handsome trio, and every single woman in the room was eyeing the bachelors with inte
rest. Except Georgia.
She turned away from them and glanced self-consciously around the room. She knew she should have been socializing, but she was happy to loiter at her cocktail table in the corner, watching the action. She loved working at the Newport Corporation. The people here were the family she’d never had. But at the same time, she wasn’t really great with this kind of social setting. Perhaps it was a handicap of her childhood. She’d moved too much to make friends and never had family she could count on. She watched the world go by from the fringe.
“Good evening, Georgia.”
At the sound of a man’s voice, Georgia turned to her left, startled. She was shocked to find Sutton Winchester standing so near her that they nearly brushed shoulders.
Biting down her irritation with him from earlier in the week, she smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Winchester.” After all, she’d won the battle. She should have been happy to see him and gloat about her victory.
He held up a glass of white wine. “I got you a refill,” he said.
Georgia looked down and noticed she had only half a sip left in her own glass. She set it on the table and accepted the fresh drink. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“I’m not a complete bastard,” he said with a wry smile as he turned to look at the crowd she’d been eyeing a moment before.
“The jury is still out on that one.”
Sutton chuckled heartily before it disintegrated into a string of harsh coughs. “Pardon me,” he said, clearing his throat.
“So, what brings you to our little celebration tonight, Mr. Winchester? You don’t have any pig’s blood stashed in the rafters or anything, do you?”
“Not at all. I was actually invited,” Sutton said with emphasis. “I’m sure the Newport boys want to rub their victory in my face. I’m happy to drink wine on their tab while they do it. Besides that, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Me?” Georgia turned to him with her brow lifted in surprise.
Saying Yes to the Boss (Dynasties: The Newports) Page 4