by Nina Crespo
“There you go.” The man adjusted the mic. “You just have to flip the control button to go live. Anything else?”
“No, and thank you.” King nodded at the man, who returned the acknowledgment with a smile and then hurried off.
King’s arm brushed hers as he leaned in. “Are we good to go?” He appeared calm, but he’d paled since they’d left the suite.
“Yes. There’s a small bottled water under the podium in case your throat gets dry. It’s already open.”
He nodded. “And the revised copy of my notes?”
“On top of the podium.” Sophie ran a mental checklist. She’d checked with the organizers earlier to make sure they had King’s bio for the introduction. She should head to the media booth to supervise the changing of the presentation slides.
As Sophie turned to leave, King grabbed her elbow. “Where are you going? I’m almost up.”
She pointed to the black booth at the back of the ballroom. “I’ll be back there, overseeing the slide presentation.”
“Can’t they handle that without you?” His expression turned grim. “The truth is, I could use you up here.”
Before King had arrived in Virginia Beach, he’d been struggling with his confidence about giving the presentation. His fight with Gerard earlier had clearly shaken an already-fragile foundation. She wouldn’t let him crumble.
She briefly laid her hand over his where he still gripped her arm. “Just let me check in with them. I’ll be right back.” Sophie walked briskly down the right side of the ballroom. The lights dimmed slightly. By the time she was headed back, after conferring with the media team, the emcee was already greeting the crowd and starting King’s introduction.
Sophie knew the highlights of his bio by heart: top of his class at Cornell, master’s from Columbia, a distinguished negotiator in his twenties at his father’s company. Later on, as the head of acquisitions management, he’d significantly increased the value of the company’s holdings within two years of taking the job. Five years ago, King and Aiden had opened Kingman Partners, where they were known for their innovative and profitable investment strategies.
The audience applauded the intro.
Before King walked up the stairs to the stage, he glanced over his shoulder and met her gaze.
Sophie smiled at him. As she leaned back against the wall, just off of stage right, her heart galloped in her chest as if she were the one about to give the presentation.
The crowd grew silent.
King rested his hands on the podium and looked out at the audience. “If the reception last night was as rowdy as I heard it was, I’m equally flattered and amazed that you’re here this morning.”
Chuckles reverberated in the room.
“Like any other business, the hospitality industry has had to adapt to the changing demands of the public. Before the early nineties, brand recognition drove where consumers spent their lodging dollars. Since then . . .” King paused. He cleared his throat and stared at his notes. “Since then, other factors have come into play.” His tone lacked projection and had a tinge of what sounded like defeat. He gripped the podium. As he shifted his stance, he looked in Sophie’s direction.
Even from a distance, she could spot the discomfort he internalized over not having memorized every line of his presentation.
No, King, don’t give up You can do this. What he was supposed to say next was displayed right behind him. She just had to make him look. Sophie stepped away from the wall. She smiled at him then stared at the screen.
King followed her gaze, then shifted back to the audience. He smiled confidently before continuing. “The five factors are . . .”
Forty-five minutes later, at the end of King’s presentation, the audience erupted into thunderous applause.
As Sophie sank back against the wall, happiness and pride bubbled inside of her. King had flubbed at the start, but once he’d settled in, he’d triumphed. The presentation had contained the right amounts of expertise, humor, and charm.
Members of the audience came onstage to confer with him.
King shook hands and answered questions.
Leah joined Sophie at the wall. “He was brilliant.” The sessions organizer beamed as she squeezed the padfolio to her chest. “Gerard Kingman has time in his schedule this afternoon. He’s agreed to sit on a panel for a Q&A session on the future of the industry. If we had both Mr. Kingmans on the panel, we could have a father-and-son perspective. Everyone would love it.”
Not so much once the carnage started piling up.
“I’m sorry, but Nicolas Kingman’s schedule is full for the afternoon.” Sophie edged closer to the stage, glancing over at King.
His expression had changed from confident and relaxed to tight, as if he forced his smile. Even if sitting in proximity of his father weren’t a bad idea, he’d clearly still reached his socializing limit.
“Excuse me.” Sophie approached holding her cell. “King, I hate to interrupt, but you need to call the office.”
He gave his apologies and followed her out of a side exit near the stage and into a wide service hallway. They stood to the side.
Food service staff pushing carts of sodas and bottled water moved briskly past them. Farther down from Sophie and King, two hotel maintenance workers were on a ladder across the hall, inspecting an open section of the wall.
King released a forceful breath. “Who just called? Aiden?”
“No. I interrupted because I thought you needed a save. The sessions organizer thought you and your father should sit on the same Q&A panel. I told her no.”
He huffed a breath. “Thank you for heading off that disaster. If Aiden does call, I don’t want to talk to him either.”
Strange. He and Aiden always stayed in contact with each other. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”
A metal tool clattering on the ground snagged King’s attention. His eyes narrowed with a pensive expression as the workers peeled more of the wall away, revealing the wood studs.
“Hey, King.” Sophie tapped his arm. “What’s going on with you and Aiden?”
He shook his head as if clearing a thought away. “It’s not a big deal. Yet. I asked our acquisitions advisors for a revised report on the Ivy Gate. Apparently, they completed it. Aiden sent the copies I asked for. He feels it confirms we should put in our investment bid. I don’t agree.”
“Why? I thought you wanted the hotel?”
“I thought I did, but Dad? This presentation? All of the other shit that’s happened? I honestly don’t know anymore.” As he rubbed the back of his neck, he stared at the floor. “I need to get out of here.”
“Go back to Richmond. I’ll check you out of the hotel.”
“I mean, I need time away to sort through this without Aiden pressuring me to make a decision.”
“You could go visit one of your other properties.”
“He’ll hunt me down through the staff. The only place I can outrun him is the boat.”
“You should go, then. Why not take tomorrow and the weekend off? You’ve earned it. Honestly, there’s nothing important on your schedule. You could come back on Tuesday if you wanted.”
“I could.” Something akin to realization flickered through his eyes. “Come with me.”
“You’re kidding.” Just the two of them alone on a boat. That was crazy.
He held up a hand in defense. “I’m not asking what you’re thinking. This morning you helped me concentrate the right way on the presentation. For the first time since the accident, I was able to focus. I need to comb through the file on the Ivy Gate Hotel. If I’m with you, away from distractions, I’ll notice something. I feel it. Come away with me for the weekend. Just work. Nothing else.” Desperation peeked through his determined expression. “Please?”
eighteen
I LOVE IT!” Meagan held up her wrist encircled by the fashion-themed bracelet. She brushed a finger over the black dress charm. The onyx jewels gleamed under the
overhead fluorescent light in her office. “This would be a perfect signature bracelet for Meagan’s Loft. You could design a new one every year centered on this particular charm.”
Sophie closed the small cardboard box that she’d brought the bracelet in and laid it on the large portfolio sitting between them on the purple couch. Her to-do list was already long. She’d have to get used to balancing multiple projects, and her life, while building her business. “Sure. I guess I could.”
Meagan dropped her arm. “I’m stressing you out, aren’t I? You already have enough to worry about designing the jewelry for the show. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No. It’s not that.” Sophie sank back on the cushion. “A lot of things have happened this week, and I haven’t gotten a whole lot of rest.” Yesterday, after leaving King at the hotel, she couldn’t get what he’d asked out of her mind. Go away with him for the weekend? She couldn’t. He needed to get used to figuring out his problems without her.
“Would it help to talk?”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“Bother? Please.” Meagan scooted back. The fabric of her short-sleeved peach jumpsuit rustled as she crossed her legs. “Actually, I feel responsible for the pressure you’re under. I imagine you’re burning the midnight oil because of me.”
“Not totally.”
“Then what’s keeping you up at night?”
How genuinely shaken King had looked when she’d informed him of how he’d treated her the day after they’d slept together, the near-defeat she’d witnessed in his eyes due to the altercation with his father at the hotel suite. Sophie smoothed the skirt of her green dress. He was also really troubled over the Ivy Gate. The night of the gala, that woman at the hotel had mentioned a problem. What if there really was an issue that made investing in the hotel a mistake? She wouldn’t want to see King and Aiden affected by a deal that went south.
Meagan cocked her head to the side, patiently waiting for a response. “I’m sensing that whatever’s going on with you has something to do with King. Is he giving you a hard time about spending time collaborating with me?”
Lying wasn’t a great way to build a partnership. Denying she wanted to talk about him wasn’t any better. She could use a compassionate listener to hear her out. “No, designing jewelry for you isn’t the problem. Remember how I told you things between me and King were strictly professional? That changed the night of gala.”
“That dress got you in trouble, didn’t it?”
The knowing glint in Meagan’s eyes pulled out a rueful chuckle. “It didn’t help keep me out of it, but I can’t blame anything but me for what happened. It was crazy for us to get involved. Correction. He wasn’t involved. Only I was.”
“Let me guess. You’re referring to him slutting it up with every attractive woman he lays eyes on.” Meagan winced. “That came out wrong.”
“It’s appropriate. How in the world did you get past that and remain friends after the two of you got together?”
“After?” Meagan choked out a laugh. “Oh no. I’ve never slept with King.”
Heat crept into Sophie’s face. “Sorry. I just assumed. I should have guessed you wouldn’t.”
Meagan held up her hand. “I said I never slept with him. I didn’t say it hadn’t crossed my mind. It was just more advantageous for us to remain friends.”
“But how? I’ve never known him to be just friends with a woman.”
“We ended up this way because of a promise we made to each other four years ago. He and I were both flying solo at a bar on New Year’s Eve. The year had sucked, in our opinions, and we were downing kamikaze shots in commiseration. Somewhere along the line, we started talking about family members who’d betrayed us. After hearing King’s story about his dad, I felt like a wimp for complaining about mine. Anyway, midnight came, and instead of a kiss, we made an agreement to be each other’s biggest supporter and not let anyone take us down. We also agreed not to jeopardize our growing friendship by sleeping together.”
Wistfulness filled Sophie. At one time, she and King had shared a similar comfortable, platonic bond. “I shouldn’t have let things turn personal with him.”
“It’s understandable how it happened. King is smart, rich, and gorgeous. It’s a devastating combination. He may appear aloof and unavailable, but he actually cares.”
A single chuckle blew past Sophie’s lips. “He has a strange way of showing it.”
Meagan leaned in. “What about when you had the flu last year? He asked me to contact my friend in Norfolk. She makes the best chicken soup. He paid her triple the cost to prepare it, and then sent a car to pick it up.”
“He did?” When she’d asked, he claimed it was from a local deli he didn’t recall the name of. She’d tried to find the soup at several places, but never found it again.
“And if you only knew how many eye rolls I’ve witnessed in this boutique from his dates over you. No matter what’s going on, if you call, he answers. When he’s talking to you, no one else exists in the room. You’re special to him.”
Meagan’s certainty needled Sophie off of the couch. “It doesn’t make a difference either way. He has his priorities. I have mine. We’re headed in different directions.”
The window framed the midmorning sun clearing the clouds.
King had said he was leaving late that afternoon. “I hope you’ll change your mind . . .” That’s what he’d said to her before she’d left the hotel yesterday.
Meagan joined her at the window. “We haven’t known each other long, so it’s pretty bold of me to give you advice. Sorry about that.”
“Go ahead.” Sophie hugged herself. “I could use an objective point of view. All my roommate talks about is burning him at the stake.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I consider him a friend, but I’m not a fan of King the commitment-phobe. In my opinion, one of your priorities needs to be finding some type of closure with him.”
“I’ve handed in my two weeks’ notice. We’re keeping our interactions strictly professional. Once I leave, I won’t see him again. What more can I do?”
Meagan studied her face. “You tell me. It sounds like a good plan to me, but it seems like something’s still bugging you about it.”
“He’s asked me to go away with him for a long weekend to help him brainstorm an issue.” Sophie turned from the blinding rays. “A part of me is actually considering it.”
“What’s the problem?”
“He and I alone on a boat? It’s going to lead to one thing. We’re going to end up having sex.”
“If you want to go, and you’re realistic about the outcome, why shouldn’t you?” Meagan retrieved Sophie’s tote from the couch and handed it to her. “If you don’t go, you’ll always wonder about what would have happened and possibly regret not knowing the answer. The key is, this time you call the shots. Make it an unforgettable ending on your terms.”
nineteen
THE BLOND WOMAN behind the desk at the marina clicked through the information on her computer screen. “Is Mr. Kingman expecting you?”
Sophie shuffled four large boutique bags from one hand to the other. It had taken twenty minutes for Meagan to pick out clothes for her. Another stop for basics on the way to Virginia Beach had taken even more precious time. “No. I’ve tried calling him, but he’s unavailable.”
“You said your name is Sophie Jordan?”
“Yes.”
“Hold on. He did put your name on the visitors’ list. You’ll have to hurry if you want to catch him, though. He’s supposed to depart in ten minutes from slip twenty-eight.”
Sophie rushed down the dock at a jog-walk pace. Okay, so maybe not changing out of her heels and skirt like Meagan had suggested wasn’t very smart.
Slip seventeen . . . twenty-two . . . twenty-five.
A few yards ahead, a dark-haired guy peered into the aft storage of a twenty-foot cabin cruiser.
Sophie sped up. “King!”
He looked up and got off the boat. As he jogged to meet her, the wind flapped the hem of his tan button-down shirt over the waist of his khaki shorts.
Out of breath, she stopped and dropped her aching arms to her sides. “You’re still here. The attendant said you were leaving in ten minutes.”
“A new weather report just came in. There’s a storm coming in from the north. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” He took her bags. A lopsided smile brought warmth to his eyes. “Come on. I’ll show you the boat.”
She followed him down the connecting dock and onto the luxury craft.
They passed a dinette with curved seating in the cockpit. The helm contained modern equipment that reminded her of navigational controls on a plane.
Down below, King placed her bags on the end of a V-shaped fawn couch. Three thick blue binders sat on the opposite side. He lifted one of the sectional cushions. “You can store your clothes here, in the compartments, and in the closet. If you brought food or drinks, there’s plenty of room for those too.” King pointed to the maple cabinets on the right. Compact stainless-steel appliances nestled below the black marble counter completed the galley. “And there’s room for personal items in the bathroom.”
“This is roomier than I expected.”
“It’s large enough for comfort.”
She couldn’t stop herself from staring at the full-size bed in the aft section. Brown, beige, and green geometric-patterned pillows adorned a matching spread.
He cleared his throat. “Hope pizza’s okay for dinner. I should check to see if the delivery guy is here. Once you’re settled, we can get to work.” He climbed the stairs to the upper deck.
Settled. Sophie unpacked the bags. Meagan had a point. She wouldn’t experience peace over King unless she gained closure—something she might discover if she helped him reach a reasonable conclusion about the Ivy Gate, as well as let her desire for him run its course over the weekend.
She exchanged her dress for jeans and a fitted tee, then stowed all of her clothes in the compartments. Unlike the night of the gala, she knew what to expect. She would bask in his charm and allow him to make her feel special. She’d gorge on toe-curling kisses and orgasms, and as she drifted in the afterglow, she’d pretend she was the only woman who mattered to him. Once the trip ended, she’d leave the fantasy behind. For good.