by Lisa Fox
That was the best possible news. Kat Greer was the company’s top graphic artist. She’d won more awards than he could ever dream of even being nominated for. Ron was doing him a huge favor by letting him have her.
“Kat will meet with you and Ms. Betancourt today so she can get a sense of what the client is after and make you up some options to work with, but in the future, you will be meeting with her alone. You’ll still report to Dean, and he will advise you, but this is your project, Ryan. Total control.”
“This is amazing.” He was going to make something incredible for this woman. He couldn’t wait to meet her.
“I’m so glad. Kat is expecting you, and I’ve arranged for you to use The Conservatory for your interview. When Ms. Betancourt arrives, she’ll be shown in there.”
“Thanks.” Ryan always got a laugh out of the names of the meeting rooms here. The Conservatory, The Billiard Room, The Lounge. It may be an upscale firm, but it had a wonderfully geeky heart.
“I know it may seem that sending you out to meet a brand new client with a black eye probably isn’t the wisest decision I’ve ever made, but as I’m sure your coworkers have told you, I have feelings about things. People.” He paused, held Ryan’s gaze. “And I have faith in you.”
Ryan was too blown away to respond. He knew Ron liked him, but this was crazy. He’d never been the kind of person to inspire faith in others. Yes, he was a hard worker, but he was a hard player as well—a fact that never escaped his former employers’ attention. He met Ron’s eyes once again and nodded to his boss, resolve thrumming in his heart. He was not going to squander this opportunity. When Ron rose to his feet, Ryan mirrored the action, shaking the other man’s hand hard.
Ryan left Ron’s office, his step light as he headed back down the hallway to the small alcove Kat Greer shared with his direct supervisor, Chief Programmer, Dean Kirkwell.
“Hey, Kat,” he called as he ducked into their inner sanctum. The seat beside her was empty. “Where’s Dean?”
Kat looked up at him from her desk, her cornflower-blue eyes expertly lined in black. She glanced over at the empty chair. “He’s meeting with your BFF in finance. Something about the Fisher account.”
Ryan laughed. Gwendolyn Pierce was murder to deal with. She had to be the most negative and cankerous person he had ever met. For no reason he could determine, she mildly tolerated him. She most certainly didn’t seem to like anyone else. “Wow, poor Dean.”
Kat nodded sadly, but there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “I just hope she returns him to me intact.” She sighed dramatically. “I do like him better that way.” She grabbed one of the legal pads on her desk. “Are you ready to go downstairs?”
“Yeah.” He was bouncing. His first project. He was going to make it great. “Any idea who this person is?”
“No,” she said. “A writer. Mysteries, I think. She’s got to be close with someone in the Family though. Ron asked me this morning if I could work on this. Appointments never happen that fast and anyone talking to Ron directly has got to be somebody.”
He stopped short. She had a point he hadn’t even considered. The Family, he’d come to learn, was what his coworkers called the mishmash of colleagues, friends, and lovers that comprised the Sharpe Designs world. If this woman was part of the Family in some way, then this was even bigger than he expected. He really had to make an impression. This was a huge chance. The best kind of nerves jangled his system, very much akin to the kind he felt whenever he stepped into the ring. He was ready to meet this challenge and win.
Kat stood up, taller than usual in super-high, razor-thin heels. He almost wanted to offer her his arm, afraid that she might topple over on the skinny stilettos. Those shoes didn’t look like they were meant to hold any weight, but she seemed to manage just fine, walking confidently past him toward the staircase.
Her hips swayed, and he had to work hard to keep his jaw off the floor. The way she moved in those heels and short skirt could do wicked things to weak men. She was everything he liked in a woman—small, blonde, hot, kinda dark and weird. But, alas, it was never meant to be. She was living happily ever after with his direct supervisor. And no matter how hot he thought she was, he could never give her anything like what she had with Dean. Their relationship was a constant source of awe, and if he wanted to be honest with himself, envy too. Sure, he’d show her a great night, but in the end, it would always be just one night. That was the simple reality of his life.
He dragged his gaze away and quickly joined her by her side. If she caught him gaping at her, she’d probably give him another black eye for his trouble. “I saw the latest edition of KLIVE,” he said as they descended the stairs. “It was awesome.” KLIVE was a gothic-styled web comic Kat wrote and illustrated about a chain-smoking, alcoholic, homicidal bunny working in customer service. He never missed an episode. She had a twisted sense of humor. “But did he really kill Drizz? I can’t believe he’s gone. He was such a good sidekick.”
Kat beamed at him. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”
They arrived on the first floor and headed for the meeting rooms. The Conservatory was on the right side of the building, a pleasant, airy room done in shades of tan and ivory. A silver tray sat on the conference table with a full French press of quality coffee, cups, spoons, a bowl of sugar packets and artificial sweeteners, and a small decanter of cream. That kind of attention to detail was one of the many things he liked about working at Sharpe Designs, and one of the things that continually pleasantly surprised him.
Kat settled down next to him on the same side of the conference table, their backs to the bookshelves lining the west wall of the room. She pointed to his eye. “Did you win?”
“I did,” he said with a grin. He could tell people that all day and never get bored.
“Dean and I want to be at the finals. When is that happening?”
“Two weeks. At a gym downtown. I’ll email you the details when I get back to my desk.”
“We’ll be there.” She gave him a wide smile. “I can’t wait to see you fight.”
The door opened, and Ryan and Kat rose to their feet as the receptionist showed in a well-dressed woman. She was tall, probably around five-eight or five-nine, wearing a sleeveless black silk shirt with a scooped neckline. Her long, rich brown hair was pulled away from her heart-shaped face, the ends curling around the swell of her breasts. Her skirt was black and white, simple and elegant, her shoes designer flats.
“Hi,” the woman said, leaning over the table to shake their hands. “I’m Grace Betancourt.”
Ryan took her hand, instantly captivated by the spray of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose, the small dimple in the corner of her cheek. Cute, definitely cute. “Ryan Granger.” He gestured toward Kat. “And this is Kat Greer.”
With the introductions out of the way, everyone sat at the conference table, ready to begin. Ryan caught Grace’s eye and a sharp, electric spark of attraction hit him square in the gut. It was a feeling he knew well. Chemistry. And all the right kinds.
“Coffee?” Kat asked, depressing the plunger on the French press.
Grace smiled, lighting up her aquamarine eyes. The color reminded him of the water in the Caribbean, a sight he’d seen on a Spring Break trip long ago. She was very attractive. And in a totally different league than the women he usually hit on.
“That’d be great,” she said to Kat and then glanced over at him again. Yes, there was something there between them for sure. He could all too easily imagine breathing in the scent of skin right at the hollow of her throat. She probably smelled of roses, maybe even lavender. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I had to be downtown to meet with my agent today, and I decided to see if you were free.” She grinned. “I never expected to actually get in.”
That smile just about killed him, and Ryan crossed his legs beneath the table. His priorities were fucked. He needed to refocus. This woman was his client. His first client. He needed to
do this right. That wasn’t going happen if he spent all his time thinking of ways to sleep with her. He cleared his throat, opened a fresh page in his notebook. “It’s great to meet you, Grace. Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself and what you’re looking for.”
“Right,” Grace said, hooking her hair back behind her ears. Ryan got a better glimpse of her rounded cleavage and had to quickly look away. “I just signed a new contract for a cozy mystery series—a four-book deal.” Her eyes glowed. “I just had a basic website before with my contact information and not much else. But now I need something that’s going to attract some serious traffic.” She sat up, and there was determination in her posture, a steel in her spine, which only made him want her that much more. “I need to sell some books.”
Kat propped her pad up against the rim of the table and picked up her pencil. “Tell me about your series.”
“It’s called The Georgica Pond Mysteries, and it’s about Mia Keller, a former investment banker who leaves Manhattan to open an inn out in the Hamptons.” She tilted her head from side to side, seeming to find the description amusing. A tinge of a blush shaded her cheeks. “On the side, she solves crimes.”
Kat looked up from her notes. “What kind of body count are we talking about here?”
Grace sipped her coffee, thought it over. “At least one dead per book, but usually it’s two. The most I’ve ever had was six.”
Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a lot of people dying in the Hamptons.”
Grace favored him with a smile that did terribly wonderful things to his libido. “It’s a dangerous place.”
Kat tapped her pencil against her lips, a faraway look in her eyes. “The creepiest thing happened to me last night. I don’t think I can use it, but you might be able to.”
Grace put her coffee aside, giving Kat her total attention. “I’m interested.”
Kat learned across the table toward Grace. “My boyfriend and I have this wireless printer in our bedroom, one we use mostly for non-work related stuff, so it doesn’t get turned on all that often. Last night, in the middle of the night, it came to life. It was probably just updating itself or something like that, but it woke me up. I laid in bed, in the dark, listening to the cartridges scrape and the wheels turn, just like they do right before they’re about to print something.” Kat gave an exaggerated shiver, but Ryan could see the delighted gleam in her eyes. “While it was doing its thing, I realized I had left my laptop in the living room. All I could think about was what if there was some stranger in the other room, using it to send me some kind of crazy message through the printer. I freaked out a little bit, thinking of the things it might say. Stuff like, ‘I see you’ or ‘You’re pretty when you sleep’. I think it would be a great riff on the whole, ‘the phone call is coming from inside the house thing’. ” She held Grace’s eyes. “You know what I mean?”
Grace grinned like a mad woman. “That’s a really good idea. Maybe not so much the horror story aspect, but maybe the killer could be sending notes, taunting her through the wireless printer. Or maybe he could even send her pictures.” She sat back in her seat and nodded. “I like it. Can I steal that?”
“Of course,” Kat said. “But you have to dedicate the book to me.”
“That’s a deal,” Grace replied, and the women laughed together. Ryan knew that he should not be fascinated by their conversation. It was morbid and kind of sick. But he liked it. A lot.
“So, the Hamptons,” Kat said, picking up her pad once again. “And murder. Is it glamor or is it rustic?”
“Definitely rustic,” Grace said.
Kat nodded. “Any themes you use over and over again? Any character traits? Gimmicks? Anything you’d like to see incorporated into the basic design?”
“Just the lake and the B&B. Those things are always in the stories.”
Kat made more notes. The room was quiet as her pencil scraped across the paper. “Okay,” she said, finally looking up from her work. “I have another appointment, but I’ll get Ryan some mock-ups in a few days for you to look over.” She stood up, gathered her things. “It was great meeting you.” She circled around the table to stand beside Grace. “I’m going to make you something spectacular.”
Grace smiled. “Thank you.”
Kat nodded, said goodbye to them both, then left the room.
Grace looked at Ryan and sipped her coffee. Suddenly the pressure was on. He had to make the right impression, but now that Kat was gone, the funky feeling in his gut was insanely distracting. He would be willing to wager a considerable amount of money that she was just as interested as he was. It was loud and clear in the tension in the air between them. But he couldn’t act on it. Couldn’t even consider it. She was his client.
“So, okay,” he said, fumbling a bit. What did he need to know? He looked her over again. Was she free tonight? How did she feel about shameless, hot, animal sex? He took a deep breath and bit down on the inside of his cheek as hard as he could. “Let’s start with the basics. What kind of pages would you like your website to have?”
“Hmm,” she said, thinking it over. “A page for my books for sure. A bio, a contact page, maybe news and appearances? That can be one page.” She tapped her index finger against her upper lip and his gaze fixed on her mouth. She was turning him inside out and she didn’t even know it. “I think that’s it.”
He struggled to keep his face professionally plain. “Do you have a fun kind of page? Or a blog? We’ve found that authors who give readers a little something extra get a lot more traffic and repeat hits.”
She curled her upper lip, obviously not liking the idea. “I don’t have time to constantly update things like that. I have a tight schedule.”
Ryan nodded. “I understand. I could do the updating for you, but the information would have to come from you. Quirky things that you’ve come across while researching, free reads, giveaways. These things really help traffic. It gives people something beyond the basic, ‘here’s my book, buy my book, please’ kind of thing.”
She blew air out of her nose. “That does make sense. I’ll have to think about it and get back to you.”
“Great,” Ryan said. “Make me a list and we’ll build something from there.”
“Have you done this before?” she asked. “You sound like you know what people want.”
“No,” Ryan admitted. “You’ll be my first author.” He did not allow himself to fully contemplate the possibilities and implications of that statement. “But Sharpe Designs has a lot of authors for clients, in all different genres. We know what works.”
Her smile turned playful, flirtatious. “How’d you get that black eye? An unsatisfied client?”
He laughed. “No, I box.” He rubbed his stubbly cheek and the flare of pain was a welcome distraction. “I’m usually more put together than this. Sorry. I was in a tournament last night.”
She leaned across the table toward him, offering him an outstanding view of her plump cleavage. “Did you win?”
His mouth went bone dry, and he quickly lifted his gaze up to her face. “I did.”
“You must be pretty good.”
“I’m very good.”
“But not the best?”
He grinned. “I don’t like to brag.”
She responded with a slow curve of her lush lips. How was he going to get this woman into his bed? That had to happen. Because he wanted her a whole lot.
Her cell phone vibrated, and she jumped. The way she scrambled for it made him think she was expecting an important call. Or maybe dreading one. Her face was tight and tense as she looked at the screen, and then she visibly relaxed. Whatever it was, she decided not to answer it now and tucked the phone back in her purse.
“Sorry,” she said, looking back up at him. She took a deep breath, let it out. “I actually need to get going. Is there anything more I can tell you? I have to get my words in for the day.”
“I think we’re good for now.” He wanted to see her agai
n. Needed to see her again. And it was perfectly reasonable. It was for the site. Today was Thursday. He thought about the earliest he could have something done. He didn’t want to stress Kat out with a tight deadline. She had at least three other projects going on. “Can we meet again on Wednesday? I’ll have a solid working outline for you by then.”
She bit her lower lip, looked away. “Do we have to meet? Can’t we just do it through email?”
Ryan tried not to take it as hard as he did, but his heart sank as the rejection set in. “Whatever you’d like, Grace. It’s your site. We can do it however you want.” But please say you’ll meet me, that I’ll get to see you again.
Grace grimaced. “No, never mind, it’s okay. I can come in.” She gave him a beseeching look. “I just… I have tight deadlines and daily word counts that I have to meet. This is just a bad time.” She let out a long breath. “But I guess there never is a good time, is there? And I do want this done. Wednesday is fine. Is the afternoon all right?”
“The afternoon is excellent.” Technically, he could do everything by email. But he was selfish and far too happy to let any guilt ruin his good fortune. “How about four?”
She nodded. “Sounds good.”
She rose out of the chair, and Ryan held the door open for her as she exited the meeting room. He wanted to offer her his arm, not for support like with Kat, but because he wanted to be close to her, touch her in some way. He couldn’t get quite close enough to get a whiff of her perfume and he was intensely disappointed. He really did want to know what she smelled like.
She left the building, and he smiled to himself as he watched her disappear into the crowd on Spring Street. He was a little pained to see her go, but he would be seeing her again. They had a date. Well, an appointment. Whatever. He was seeing her again and that’s all that mattered.