CaddyGirls

by V. K. Sykes

  Julian actually didn’t give a damn, but he knew Josh would expect him to be pleased so he smiled. “It sure looked like a done deal to me.”

  “I thought so too. Right until that walk we took after Circo. I figured I’d get her up to my suite, but...well, to make a long story short, she seems to have an ironclad policy of foreplay only on the first day out. Imagine that, in this day and age. Who’d have believed it?” he asked in a mock-mournful voice.

  “I guess the rest of us have a twenty-four-hour reprieve then.” Julian chuckled. “Maybe less than twenty-four hours, if I know you.”

  “Don’t count on it. Brendan’s sitting pretty. Annie looks like she’s fallen into a tub of whipped butter.”

  Julian gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “You can’t bitch about that, man. You drew first pick, and you took the hottest-looking caddy on the site.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s all good. Krista’s going to come around soon. So, what happened with Torrey anyway? Brendan said you looked like you were rounding first and sliding into second.”

  “Nice analogy, but I’d say I’m still at bat with one ball and one strike. I’m still a long way from a base hit, much less a home run.”

  “Like I said, seeing our bean-counter friend over there, neither of us has much time to lose,” Josh said. “Listen, why don’t you come back to the table and have another drink? Maybe we can spray some foam on that fire Brendan’s got going.”

  Julian thought for a second. He really did have to look like he had his heart in this contest, or Josh would be bummed. Besides, it was always fun to watch his partner at work when he sank his teeth into a problem. “Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s make sure we get another day before we’re voted off the island.”

  * * *

  “Good morning, Torrey. Come in.”

  Torrey looked up from People to see Dr. Jenna Arthurs holding open the door to her inner office. Tall, slim and elegant in a tailored linen suit, Dr. Arthurs had to be at least fifty, based on the dates of the degrees lining one wall of her office. But she looked ten years younger and hadn’t seemed to age a day in the three years Torrey had been her patient.

  Dr. Arthurs closed the door as Torrey installed herself in her usual position at one end of the soft, brown leather sofa.

  “It’s good to see you again, Torrey.”

  “I’m glad to see you again, too. Now that we’re down to once a month, it seems like such a long time between our sessions.”

  “How have you been?” The therapist smoothed her skirt as she sat down on the blue fabric chair that fit her body perfectly.

  “Okay. Really busy. Ever since I started caddying, I’ve been working my butt off. Maybe that’s a good thing, since my butt needed a little trimming.” She sighed.

  Dr. Arthurs shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to worry about in that department. You look great. All that sun is doing you good.”

  “Thanks. I’m going full out, every day, but it’s like I’m on a treadmill. I don’t move forward. I’m still no closer to landing a sponsor.”

  Dr. Arthurs gave her an understanding nod. “Last time we talked you were trying to get a loan too, weren’t you?”

  “I tried, but the bank knows I wouldn’t have any golf income coming in for months, and I’d have to keep scrambling if I wash out at Q-School. My aunt offered to help some, but I couldn’t let her, especially after all the money she’s spent to pay for my sessions here. It would have cleaned her out.”

  “I’d imagine it would be a challenge to land a sponsor when you haven’t played competitively for such a long time.”

  Torrey flinched at the reminder. “That’s an understatement. Most of the companies I’ve contacted haven’t even answered my messages. I really hoped I could convince a couple of marketing guys who were friends of my father to take a chance on me, but it didn’t work out with them either. To risk money and their company’s reputation on somebody who hadn’t done anything on the course for four years…well, they just couldn’t swallow that. I can’t really blame them.”

  Dr. Arthurs leaned forward, looking intent. “I know it’s hard for you to talk about a future that doesn’t involve professional golf. But you have to remind yourself that achieving that dream is just one measure of success in life. There are so many others.”

  Torrey didn’t totally accept that, but she knew she had to try. “I know. I’m just not ready to let go of a dream I’ve had my whole life. I have to succeed at golf. I owe it to Dad.”

  “Your father would have been proud of you no matter what.”

  “Not unless I fought with everything I had and got up every time they knocked me down.”

  “Isn’t that exactly what you keep on doing?” her therapist asked in that gentle, reassuring voice that had so often been a needed source of strength. Dr. Arthurs had been hard on her in the early days of her therapy. But now she was always there for her, quick to offer a reminder of how far she’d come since her father’s tragic death.

  “So you’re saying I’d better be prepared for another smackdown,” she said with resignation.

  Dr. Arthurs sat back and shook her head, her gentle smile conveying reassurance. “Think about it this way, Torrey. You’re already prepared. All our hard work together has prepared you. You can face whatever life throws your way and still be fine. That’s the truth, not a platitude.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Arthurs.” Torrey reached for the tissue dispenser she’d learned was standard issue in a psychologist’s office. Tears welled up at the empathy and confidence in her therapist’s voice. Torrey’s own confidence had been shattered for such a long time that it had taken all her strength, and a lot of patient help, to get this far. “It’s meant a lot to know that you believe in me.”

  Crumpling the damp tissue in her fist, she decided to go ahead and say what had been on her mind since last night. “I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a pickle. I got myself into it, and I’m not sure how to get out.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, I’m caddying for a new client this week. He’s the president of a big electronic games company. As soon as he contacted me, I started to think his company might be a possible sponsor. I thought I could work on him over the four days we’d be together on the golf course and see if by the end of the week he’d be willing to go to bat for me and get a sponsorship from his company.”

  “And it’s turned into a pickle, to use your word?”

  “Unfortunately, yes—and after only one day. The problem is that for some reason he seems really interested in me. Sexually. Last night he…um, made a move.”

  Dr. Arthurs’s eyebrows arched a fraction. “And how did you respond?”

  “That’s just it. I did respond sexually, and then ended up pushing him away. God, I’m embarrassed to even talk about it.” She groaned, rubbing her forehead. “When we said good night it was tense, and I think I probably offended him. I tossed and turned the rest of the night. One minute I was mad at him, the next minute I was kicking myself for how I acted. I’m worried about seeing him again this afternoon. It’s going to be awkward.”

  “If he’s a gentleman, he’ll understand your reluctance to jump into bed with someone you just met.”

  “I guess you’re right. Julian seems to genuinely like me. Sure, he could just be out for an easy one-nighter, but it didn’t feel like that. And he’s incredibly sexy. I’m sure he figured I was hot for him too.”

  “And you weren’t?”

  Torrey tucked her hands under her thighs as she hunched forward. “Oh, no. I mean yes. I was totally into him.”

  “But then you pushed him away.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Because he was too aggressive?”

  “No. I guess I stopped it because I don’t think it would be smart to sleep with him and then turn right around and ask him to sponsor me. That would just scream out that I was using him just to get what I want.”

  “So, when he pressed the issue last night, it threw a mon
key wrench into your plans.”

  “Exactly. I had no idea he’d come on to me like that. Not so soon, anyway.” She shook her head, remembering the heat of Julian’s kiss. “Can you imagine how overwhelming it was for someone like me to be swept off her feet by a man like Julian Grant?”

  Dr. Arthurs looked surprised. “Julian Grant? I read a story about him in Vanity Fair a few months ago. One of the country’s youngest Fortune 500 CEOs, if I remember correctly.”

  She nodded. “I’d never heard of him before, though I was familiar with the company, of course. Everybody knows OverTheEdge Games.”

  “Perhaps everyone your age, dear.” Her therapist gave her a wry smile.

  Torrey responded with an apologetic grimace. She often forgot that despite her young appearance, Dr. Arthurs was older than her mother would have been if she’d still been alive. “Anyway, I’m going to see Julian in a couple of hours, and I don’t have a clue what I’m going to do.”

  “It seems to me the solution should be quite clear.”

  “Ask him as soon as possible?”

  “Of course. Is there any other way?”

  “No, I haven’t been able to come up with anything better. But it’s not like I can just walk up to him on the first tee and pop the question. I need him to get to know me, and see how passionate I am for the game. I can’t just give him a little speech and expect him to jump at the chance to sign up a nobody like me.”

  “I understand. I’d just caution you not to let much more time go by before you talk frankly with him. You need to be honest, and hopefully he’ll return your honesty.”

  Torrey took a deep breath, trying not to imagine all the things that could go wrong with that scenario. “I’ll try. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’ll try.”

  * * *

  Julian strode down the hall toward Colton Kerr’s twentieth-floor suite, his mood upbeat. Because he’d turned in early, his energy level was as high as his determination to hammer his one-time friend into finalizing the merger. He’d wanted to go over his plan of attack with his partners at breakfast, but all three had looked like ten miles of bad road.

  Brendan, normally the lightest drinker of the foursome, had clearly spent too much time with his wine glass the night before. Josh tried to put up a good front but didn’t fool anybody, especially when all he could manage was to sip black coffee. Michael, who rarely showed any wear and tear from a late night out, was also dragging his ass.

  The first topic of conversation should have been the Apollo merger, or at least what they’d learned at the first day of the computer show. But it was neither of those. Nor was it yesterday’s golf. As soon as the four had taken their seats in the Café Bellagio, Josh had launched right in to an inquiry of exactly who did what with whom the night before.

  Josh had confessed he’d struck out with Krista but gave assurances that he’d end the bet tonight. Brendan had talked about how great it was to meet somebody like Annie who could actually carry on an intelligent conversation. When it was Michael’s turn, Josh had given Julian a here we go look. But Michael surprised them by holding a hand to his forehead and grumbling “pass”.

  Breakfast had gone downhill from there. To Brendan’s obvious chagrin, Josh had whisked Annie to the dance floor last night and worked her over, casting broad—totally inaccurate—hints about Brendan’s habit of never calling a woman once he’d slept with her. According to Josh, Annie’s interest in Brendan had then noticeably cooled. No wonder the poor guy had looked ready to murder Josh, directing blood-shot glares at him over the rim of his coffee cup.

  Julian had to laugh at the thought that he still had a shot to win the bet. Not that he’d done himself any favors when he’d impulsively kissed Torrey last night. He’d planned on being the perfect gentleman and had succeeded all day, despite a few lustful body scans on his part. But all his good intentions had been washed away with the sheeting rain. When she flung herself into his arms, every male protective instinct he possessed had taken over. He wanted to shelter her from the rain, protect her from the storm and soothe all her fears.

  And more than anything, he wanted to take her to his suite, join her in a steaming hot shower and make love to her until dawn. The bet couldn’t have been further from his mind.

  Colton Kerr opened the door seconds after Julian knocked. Despite being only in his mid-thirties, Kerr’s face had started to reflect his reputation for hard living. Julian thought he looked ten years older than his age.

  With his groundbreaking “Force of Nature” game, Kerr had made Apollo into an overnight success that had dominated the video gaming industry for a few years. Unfortunately he’d done it through effectively stealing “Force of Nature” from OTE. Josh and Colton had been co-designers, but Colton had no problem cutting OTE out. The lawsuits had taken five years to work their way through the courts. Before a final judgment was handed down, Apollo agreed to give Julian’s company royalties on the still-popular game, now in its fifth version. The settlement hadn’t ended the bad blood; if anything, it had heightened the mistrust that bordered on hatred. But now Apollo had fallen on harder times and was steadily losing market share to OTE and MegaGames, the industry leader. Apollo needed the merger, but Julian still wondered if Kerr could hold his nose long enough to sign the deal.

  Colton eyed him with barely concealed distaste. “You’re looking too damn good, Julian,” he grumbled. “With that tan, you must be finding time to get in lots of golf.”

  Thanks for the cheap shot, asshole. You know I work even harder than you do.

  “I try to get out once in a while.”

  “Drink?” Kerr nodded toward the wet bar.

  Julian shook his head.

  “How about coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  “Help yourself. Everything’s over there.”

  Kerr poured himself a Jack Daniels on the rocks and eased himself into a deep armchair. After fixing his coffee, Julian took the matching armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table. They made small talk for a few minutes, comparing notes on the new products at the show.

  Then Kerr got down to business. “My guys tell me the detail work’s going well.”

  “That’s what our folks are saying, too.” Julian had dispatched a team to Apollo’s headquarters in San Diego to begin detailed discussions of the possible merger.

  “We agree that there are advantages to Apollo and OTE hooking up.”

  Julian caught a familiar tone in Kerr’s words. “Colton, why do I sense an unspoken ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?”

  Kerr gripped his glass so tightly that Julian thought it could shatter any moment. “You know I’d rather eat glass than have anything to do with you three, Julian. Time may heal some wounds, but not all of them. When you sued Apollo, you wanted to ruin me, and I can’t forgive you for that.”

  Julian gave him a cold smile. “Just like I can’t forgive you for running out on us and stealing our product.”

  Kerr waved his hand dismissively. “Jesus, isn’t it time to bury that dead horse? Anyway, what I was going to say was that despite our history, I’m man enough to admit that a merger makes sense now.”

  “Fine. But I’m still waiting for the ‘but.’”

  “Okay, let’s get to the point,” Kerr said, setting his mouth in a tight line. “I’ve run into a snag with some of our biggest shareholders. Even if our board recommends the deal, these guys won’t vote their shares in favor.”

  Julian repressed the urge to punch the bastard. Any Apollo shareholder who voted against a merger with OTE needed to be institutionalized. Colton clearly wanted to extract better terms.

  “Which shareholders would those be?”

  “A couple of the pension funds. And Center Street. Especially Center Street.”

  Center Street—the New York-based hedge fund whose founder was Kerr’s buddy.

  Julian didn’t try to camouflage his skepticism. “And you’ve just learned this news now, after we’ve been talki
ng for weeks?”

  “It doesn’t matter when I learned about it,” Kerr growled. “All you need to know is that it’s real, and we have to deal with it or this dog’s not going to hunt.”

  Julian cursed silently. He didn’t believe Colton’s bullshit, but the man had to have something in his back pocket to make these brazen threats. “All right, what’s their problem?”

  “I think you know that some of these guys have worked with me for a lot of years. They’re not happy at the thought of somebody else running the new company’s day-to-day operations.”

  “Go on,” Julian said, certain now of what was coming.

  “They’ll support the merger if I’m appointed CEO of the merged company.”

  Kerr’s eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction, fully knowing he had just tossed a live, possibly deal-breaking grenade into the discussion.

  Julian stared at him, keeping his face impassive while the bastard who had once been his friend drained the rest of his bourbon.

  “And that would leave me where?” Julian asked after a long pause.

  “Chairman of the Board,” Kerr filled in the blank. “Look, I know that’s the opposite of what we talked about the last time we met, but we’ve got to take these big guys into account if this merger’s going to happen. You and the three amigos will still control enough of the company through your retained shares.”

  Julian rose to his feet. “So, let me get this straight. OTE has twice the market cap of Apollo. Our rate of growth is more than double Apollo’s. The best designers want to work for OTE, not Apollo. My partners and I have built OTE from a garage company to number two in the world, while Apollo’s been faltering for years. And somebody other than me—namely you—is going to be President and CEO. Have I got that right?”

  “Listen, Julian, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but we’ve both got to park our egos and do what’s best for our shareholders and employees. If this merger goes south, everybody loses.”

  Julian turned and walked to the door, then pivoted to face Kerr. “Colton, I know you might just have the horses to cause some damage. You might even be able to sink this merger. But if you think anybody but me is going to be CEO of OverTheEdge or the new company, you and your shareholders need to adjust your meds. We’ll negotiate a lot of things. That’s not one of them. Have a good day.”