"Colleen," Tony said, snapping her from her thoughts. "You look a bit shell-shocked. Are you all right?"
"I am," she replied, then hastily added, "All right, I mean. Not shellshocked. Well, maybe a bit."
"You have reason to be," Frank said, seeing the emotion in her eyes. "It was touch and go there for a while. From what I heard you fought hard for what you wanted. Good for you."
She still found Frank a mystery man. His title, Executive Consultant, gave no clue about what he actually did.
"Thank you, Frank. Sometimes you have to stick to your guns."
"You did more than stick to your guns," Tony declared, recalling some of the more contentious meetings. "You were firing bullets. Some of my people got wounded."
"Hardly. You give them bulletproof vests."
"Do you still want to have our celebratory dinner," Tony asked, "or is that up for debate as well?"
"Absolutely no debate," she replied, softening her tone and smiling at him. "I know I've said this before but it begs repeating. Thank you for everything."
"Thank you for putting your faith in me. It takes courage to face your demons and meet them head on. You did it with grace and style. I was right about you. I predict great things for Kiss Me Cosmetics."
"Me too," Colleen said confidently. "Now I must get back to my office—sorry, our office—and address the troops."
"I'll pick you up at your house at 7 p.m."
"I'm looking forward to it," she said, rising to her feet. "Goodbye, Frank."
"Bye, Colleen. I'll see you again soon."
Walking to the door, she could feel Tony's eyes following her. She smiled. Things were going well. Very well, and in a couple of hours they'd be having dinner, just the two of them.
"That was interesting," Tony remarked as she disappeared into the hall. "Am I imagining things, or was she a bit odd just now?"
"Your instincts are right," Frank said with a frown. "There's something else going on with her."
"An attraction?"
"Probably. Don't forget your Golden Rule. No screwing the staff. Especially not in this politically charged environment."
"She's such a cutie pie."
"Did I just hear Tony McIntyre call a woman a cutie pie?"
"She is. She's so dynamic, and it's wrapped up in that sexy little body of hers. And that hair!"
"Cutie pie," Frank repeated with a wry grin. "I've heard, eminently fuckable, hot as chilli sauce, let's see…what else?"
"Yeah, yeah," Tony said with a chuckle. "What can I say? Cutie pie is what came into my head."
"Time to get back to reality. You can't go down that road."
"I know, I know, and I won't."
"Call Sandra. Have her scratch your itch."
"I might have to do that, but she was clingy the last time we were together. I'm thinking it might be time to move on."
"Do what you must, but if you get the urge to cross the line with the cutie pie, call me."
"What have I done? I should have dated her, not brought her into my company."
"Too late now."
"It's never too late, Frank. Not in my world."
"Now you're worrying me. Where are you having dinner?"
"I was going to take her to Emile's, but she asked if we could go to a place called The French Tart. How could I say no? The name alone makes me want to go there."
"Whoa! The French Tart?"
"Is there something wrong with The French Tart? Damn, I can't stop saying it."
"Tony, it's a very romantic, very sexy, very intimate place."
"Really?"
"Really. Tread carefully, my friend. Methinks there's mischief afoot."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Colleen was never one to second-guess her choice of clothing. She'd open her closet, make her decision, and that would be that, but as she readied herself for dinner, she couldn't make up her mind.
"What's wrong with me?" she muttered, returning to the first outfit she'd selected. "Why am I even asking myself? I know exactly what my problem is. I like him way too much."
The doorbell made her jump, and running a brush through her thick, wavy hair, she dropped her lipgloss into her purse and hurriedly left the bedroom. As she walked swiftly down the stairs and into the foyer, she had the uncomfortable feeling she was forgetting something. The answer came in a flash, but it was too late. She was already opening the door—barefoot.
"Hi," she said awkwardly, feeling an embarrassed flush cross her face. "Uh, sorry. Come in."
Tony smiled down at her. He was 6'2", and without her heels she barely reached his shoulder.
"Are you sure? I can wait in the car."
"No, no, please," she said, stepping aside. "The living room is through there. Just give me a second. I'll be right back."
In the many hours they'd spent together negotiating the various aspects of the deal, Tony had never once seen her rattled. The phrase, cutie pie, was suiting her even more than it had in the office.
"Look, but don't touch," he muttered under his breath as he ambled into the living room.
A collection of expensive porcelain figurines lined several shelves, most depicting loving couples. Prints by Monet and Renoir hung on the walls. Colleen O'Connell was a romantic.
"Sorry," she declared, appearing behind him. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
Though her cheeks were still rosy red, she had composed herself, and her high-heels had given her back her height.
"No problem," he said, moving towards her. "You look lovely, and forgive me if this is sexist, but it's nice to be escorting a woman wearing a dress. I suppose I'm a bit old-fashioned about certain things."
"Old-fashioned has its place. Thank you."
"Shall we go?"
They walked outside, and starting down the path she saw a waiting town car. It surprised her. Tony had struck her as the frugal type.
"It's a special occasion," he remarked as if reading her mind. "I plan to finish off a bottle of Dom Perignon with you, and I don't drink and drive."
As the driver opened the back door she could feel her pulse tick up. Tony was a charming, wealthy, handsome man, and he was single. He also had a reputation, and though she was determined not to become a notch on his bedpost, a part of her was suggesting she might want to dip her toe between the sheets.
The luxurious interior of the car was warm and intimate, and the evening was beginning to feel more like a date, than two professionals celebrating the conclusion of an important merger. As the car drove through the city, his cologne was tickling her nose, and she recognized it as Clive Christian No.1. It was ridiculously expensive, and it's unique aroma was subtly seductive. She couldn't help but wonder if he was wearing it for her. She had dabbed a tiny drop of the perfume she'd developed for Kiss Me Cosmetics behind her ears. It was a soft, clean fragrance, almost a feminine version of his.
"I like what you're wearing," he said softly. "The scent I mean. Your dress too," he added, "but I already said that."
He frowned. He'd sounded anxious. And he was. A bit. It was strange.
"Thank you. I created it for the company, but it never went to market. I like your cologne too," she replied. "Would I be right saying it's Clive Christian No.1?"
"You would. I'm impressed."
"Don't be. It's my business. If I can't detect a cologne that's over $500 for a little over an ounce I should be doing something else."
"Why didn't your perfume see the light of day?"
"The debacle with the cream put a stop to many of my plans. Now I'd like to pursue it, though I had trouble with the packaging and the name."
"Maybe we can brainstorm that together."
"I'd enjoy that," she said, smiling up at him. "Certainly preferable than going through your marketing department. I'm sorry, but they have no clue about cosmetics."
"Is that right?"
"I'm afraid it is. Don't get me wrong, I'm open to ideas, but I don't have the time to sit in endless meetings hearing
stupid suggestions from people who are probably overpaid, and not anywhere near as smart as they think they are."
"Whoa. My people are not overpaid, and—"
"Sorry," she said, interrupting him. "You do have excellent people, but they don't understand my industry."
"Pick two from my marketing department. Any two. Invite them into your world. Maybe they'll surprise you. Creativity comes in many forms. Will you do that for me?"
"If you'll do something in return."
An all-important favor she wanted to ask had been swimming around her head, and the words had spilled from her lips before she'd had a chance to stop them.
"Always negotiating," he remarked. "Sure. What is it?"
"No, no," she said quickly. "Nothing. I didn't mean to say that. Of course I'll bring them in, and I already know who I'd like to have. Kathy, for sure. I don't recall her last name, but she's young. Blonde. She has great style, and she understands how makeup should be used."
"Kathy Baker. That makes sense. Who's the other?"
"James. The sexy guy from Britain. I'd like another man on my team, and he's got a twinkle in his eye."
Tony felt a twinge of jealousy. It shook him, but a moment later the car pulled to the curb in front of the restaurant. It was a welcome distraction.
"The French Tart!" she exclaimed. "I hope you don't mind me wanting to come here."
"Not at all, but let me guess," he murmured as the car door was opened by the driver. "You love the name, right?"
"As the English would say, it's cheeky, but the food is terrific too."
As they left the car and walked under the canopy, he offered his elbow. She thought it charming, but he positively oozed the stuff, and looping her arm through his, she let out a soft sigh. It had been too many months since she'd been out. With the drama of her company's woes she'd had neither the time nor inclination to date. The cozy, intimate restaurant offered wing-backed chairs for privacy, the lights were dim, and the aroma flowing from the kitchen was deliciously inviting.
"Do you like it?" she whispered as they entered. "I find it such a change from those modern, bright, edgy places."
"I agree. They have no ambience and too much noise. McIntyre," he announced as they approached the podium.
"Ah, yes. This way, please."
The host was tall, straight-backed and deferential. Shooting Colleen a warm smile, he turned and led them through the dining room. A bottle of champagne was already resting in an ice bucket at the side of the table, and as they sat down a waiter appeared.
"Would you like me to open the bottle now, sir?"
"I certainly would," Tony replied. "We're in no hurry, but do you have a platter of bite-sized appetizers?"
"We do," the waiter replied as he poured the sparkling wine into their crystal flutes.
"Then we'll start with that."
"Very good, sir."
"To a successful partnership," Tony declared, raising his glass as the waiter left.
"Successful and comfortable," Colleen added. "I know there will be headwinds from time to time, but I'm into smooth sailing."
"I'll try not to rock your boat too much."
"You can rock my boat as much as you want," she twinkled at him, "as long as you promise to jump in the water and save me if I fall in."
"At the very least I'll throw you a lifejacket," he said with a grin, then taking a sip of his champagne, a solemn expression suddenly crossed his face. "Colleen, I'm very pleased to have this time alone with you. There's something personal we need to discuss, and I'd like to get it out of the way. You and I. It must remain strictly business. I don't cross the line. Business and sex never ends well, so I'm afraid whatever sparks exist between us, I can't allow them to ignite. But…"
"But?" she asked, wishing her heart wasn't sinking.
"I confided in someone about this today. He said—It's too late. My response was—It's never too late. That's true, but it is too soon. I'm a rolling stone. Commitment in my private life isn't something I'm good at. Allin Holdings has been my priority since the day I opened my doors. Perhaps, somewhere down the line, my view of things might change. One never knows what the future will bring."
"I understand. I do. I've had the same issue. Men expect more than I can give. Kiss Me Cosmetics has always come first."
"Yes, I'm sure," he said, raising his eyebrows. "I almost wish we'd met personally, not professionally."
"In a way I do too," she mumbled, dropping her eyes to stare at her champagne glass.
"Colleen, you're not sorry are you? I could always let you out of your contract if that's what you want. I'm not an ogre, and we're not so entwined it can't be unraveled."
"Uh…no."
"Is there's something else on your mind?"
A bright red blush suddenly crossed her cheeks. There was, but now she doubted it would ever see the light of day.
CHAPTER TWO
Colleen felt herself beginning to relax. She could sense Tony was too. The food was delicious, and the champagne was giving her a mellow buzz.
"We've spent a lot of time together over this last month, but I don't know anything about you," she remarked. "Can I ask about your family? Is your father in business?"
"Sure you can ask, but there's not much to tell. My father's a dentist, and my parents are living in the same home they've had for thirty years. I want to buy them something new and sparkling, but they're not interested. I have two sisters. One married a teacher, the other a vet. They're both happy homemakers. My background is ordinary, very ordinary."
"That makes what you've achieved even more admirable. How did you do it?"
"I'm not sure. I've never found what I do very difficult. It's two-plus-two. Business only turns problematic if it becomes emotional. It's always been clinical for me. It's just a matter of adding up the numbers, and I'm always prepared to walk away if they're not where I want them to be."
"It didn't feel clinical when we were sitting at Mabel's Pantry sharing that apple pie."
"Kiss Me Cosmetics was different. It is different. It appealed to me because it presented an opportunity to be involved in an industry with which I'm unfamiliar, one that can be extremely profitable. Since we're talking about this, I have an idea. I'm not sure how you're going to feel about it, but I've given it a great deal of thought."
"I can't wait to hear it."
"When we start marketing the new product lines, I think you should be the model."
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"I don't know the first thing about being in front of a camera, and I'm not six-feet tall."
"Why do you think you have to be six-feet tall?"
"All models are six-feet tall."
"Colleen, you have a picture perfect face. Tall won't matter. Look at Coco Channel. Estee Lauder. Even Mary Kay. Women identified with them. You are Kiss Me Cosmetics. Even your name works. I can already see the tag line. Colleen O'Connell, the Force and the Face of Kiss Me Cosmetics. It will make your brand personal, and that will set your products apart from the crowd."
"I, uh, I'm not sure what to say."
"Say you'll think about it."
"I'll definitely think about it," she promised as the waiter arrived to clear their plates.
"Was everything to your liking, sir?"
"Delicious, thank you. Give us a few minutes before you bring the dessert."
"Of course, sir."
"Dessert?" Colleen said softly, smiling at him across the table. "What are we having?"
"It's a surprise. I ordered it on my way back from the mens' room. Now it's your turn."
"My turn?"
"Your family."
"I don't like to talk about them. I find it a bit embarrassing."
"Why?"
"They're over-achievers. My father is a Harvard Law Professor, and my mother is a bio-chemist. She's a researcher. Cutting edge stuff. And then there's my older brother. He's a partner in a very prestigious New York law firm."
"
Wow. No wonder you're a brainiac."
"I'm not. My mother is the real brains in the family."
"Not your father?"
"My mother is ridiculous. I mean that in a good way. It's ridiculous how talented she is. She paints, she writes, she sings, and she's a genius. My father is a bookworm, and he needs to debate everything. I suppose that comes from being a professor."
"Is that where you picked up the habit?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"Uh-huh. And your brother? What's his name?"
"Patrick. He's into being who he is. Important, kind of a playboy, but I really like him."
"How do they feel about what's happened with your company?"
"Dad was never supportive of me. I haven't told him anything. My brother's only comment was a request for an introduction to you, but my mother was thrilled. That's when I knew I was making the right decision."
"But if your mother and brother know, won't they tell your father?"
"Probably. It doesn't matter if they do or they don't. He's already disappointed in me. He wanted me to stay close to home and go the way of my brother."
"Wait until he sees your gorgeous face plastered on billboards and in glamorous ads on television."
"I haven't agreed to anything yet, but I have to admit, that does make it tempting."
"I thought it might."
"You are so manipulative!"
"I just know the right things to say."
"It's the same thing."
"Maybe. Any more thought about my earlier offer?"
"Which offer is that?"
"To let you out of the contract and—."
"Yes," she said cutting him off.
"Yes, you want out, or yes, you've given it more thought?"
"More thought. Your suggestion was cowardly and stupid."
For a moment, Tony wasn't sure if he'd heard her correctly, but only a moment, then he felt the slow burn of rising anger.
"I don't appreciate being described as either of those things."
"I didn't say them to upset you. You used the word clinical. That's what I'm being. I'm simply telling you how I see it. I understand mixing business with pleasure can be dicey, but to throw me a choice out of the blue? I just spent a month from hell getting my company out of hot water, while somehow managing to keep my dignity and self-respect. Yes, there's an attraction between us. Is that something I'd like to pursue? Of course. Meeting someone who makes me feel, uh, certain things, is rare. Apparently the same holds true for you. We're both caught between a rock and a hard place. So let me ask you, Tony. If there was a choice to be made here, why didn't you make it?"
BOSS_His Wealth. His Power. His Demands. Page 2