“How about the one on the left? Oh, oh, I think she just winked.”
“Nope.” Kent didn’t bother to check out of any of Dana’s recommendations. He had already looked around. No one in the gallery compared to her. So why bother?
“What’s wrong with her?” Dana asked.
“I have a thing for feet. She doesn’t measure up in those sandals.” He shook hands with the next person Grace pushed toward him. Afterward, he turned to Dana. “You would pass that criterion, though.”
His compliment froze her in her place. He watched her stare at her feet, which were encased in gladiator-style sandals with a killer heel.
Kent enjoyed having the last laugh. “Good night. See you in the morning.”
As he exited, he heard the sound of someone hurrying behind him. Without turning, he sensed that Dana had followed him. He slowed to allow her to catch up. He didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to see her face, didn’t want to check out that sexy body. He couldn’t afford any temptation.
“I won’t be in the office Monday.”
“Where will you be?” Kent halted. He wasn’t aware that she’d be going somewhere.
“New York City.”
“Ah, the big meeting.”
“Grace did mention that I’d better get in front of the general managers, sooner than planned.”
“How do you feel?” He continued walking with Dana at his side.
“Honestly?” She shrugged. “A bit petrified.”
He hailed a cab and slid into the backseat.
She lowered her body to peer through the window. “So, we’ll meet up when I return.”
Kent lowered the window. “Dana, I will be accompanying you.”
“Unnecessary.” Her perfectly shaped eyebrows descended to match the icy drop in her tone.
“Such is life.”
“Temporarily.” She glowered at him.
Whether Dana was smiling, serious, or vexed to the max, Kent found he liked all her expressions.
“And that’s a shame.” He tapped the headrest to let the driver know to take off. It was good timing, too, because he turned in time to see Dana making animated gestures that didn’t seem to be wishing him a good night.
* * *
10:55 p.m.
11:04 p.m.
12:50 a.m.
Kent swore aloud in the dark hotel room. He most certainly was not having a good night.
He blamed Dana for putting a curse on him. All night long, he’d tossed and turned under the comforter, on top of it, until he gave up and turned on the TV. Bored with the late-night offerings, he switched it off and tried to count sheep. Any solution that might wipe clean Dana’s sexy image from his mind was fair game.
The bottom line was this: Dana Meadows wouldn’t stay out of his thoughts.
Kent hugged the pillow against his body and buried his face in its softness. Just for an instant, he wanted to mimic that action with her instead. He longed to hold her against him, his body spooning hers with his face resting on her back, close to her beautiful neck. He’d feel her heart beat with his chest pressed to hers. Her voice—which wasn’t deep, but rich, vibrant, and, to his English ears, had a slight drawl—carried its own power to affect his emotions.
With Dana in his arms, he’d go on a hunt for every pulse point where she’d dab her enticing perfume. He’d track their locations—behind her ear, along her neck, between her breasts, on her wrist, maybe behind her knee—and mark those spots with feathery kisses, claiming them all greedily.
Kent groaned. Desire was an eager beast that ached for satisfaction. All he could do tonight was to cup his arousal, pray for sleep and just in case, go back to counting sheep.
* * *
Kent’s ideal way to wake up was by having a cup of hot black coffee, not by receiving a phone call at the crack of dawn on a Saturday from Grace Meadows. He hoped that she didn’t have a grandmotherly sixth sense about his scandalous pining for Dana. Just in case, Kent pulled the comforter tightly around his body as he pinned the phone between his ear and shoulder. Her piercing voice sent any remnants of sleep skittering to the dark edges of his consciousness.
“Kent, why is Dana heading to New York City so soon? Was this based on your advice?”
“I was under the impression that this was your request for immediate action.”
Grace snorted. “I don’t make requests. What is my granddaughter up to? I had planned to meet with her to go over my thoughts. I wanted the meeting to be sooner rather than later, but she wasn’t supposed to leave this early.”
“I think she wants to get a lay of the land before implementing a strategy. Is that a problem?” Kent hated to ask, but he felt he needed to. It seemed as if Dana had tried to outfox the old vixen. Touché.
“Did you finish your initial analysis of her? I don’t want her barging in on the New York meeting unprepared. They are a different setup there. You can’t come at them not knowing your stuff.”
“All the surveys haven’t been received. I don’t see lack of preparation as an issue for your granddaughter.”
“I just want to make sure that everything goes well. I would have come if I knew ahead of time.”
Kent heard the disapproval in her voice. The Meadows matriarch was in full helicopter grandparent mode and looking for a place to land.
“You must be there. You must be my eyes and ears—”
“I’m not your spy, Grace.”
“You’re her coach.”
“They are not synonyms.”
“I’m not going to play with my word choice. Now, I have to tend to other business that requires my attention. Please make sure that you’re there with Dana in New York.”
“I did plan to accompany her.” Kent resented the attitude that he was Dana’s babysitter. But he’d hold back his comments until after he attended the New York City meeting. Grace did have it right—this meeting, which all the other heads of the various entities within Meadows Media would attend—was going to test Dana’s mettle. Not only would Dana have to set the tone for the meeting, establishing that she was the company’s next leader, but she would also deal with other possible contenders for the CEO position, which might emerge from this lot.
“Now that we have that settled, what’s your impression?” Grace asked.
“About what?” Kent wanted to hang up the phone and head to the gym. A good workout would zap this stress and obliterate any side effects of sexual frustration. Kent would be able to socialize with people who wanted nothing from him.
“Mr. Fraser, don’t toy with my intelligence. I need your instinctual response. Am I making the right decision by naming Dana my successor?”
“I think that you knew the answer before you brought me in the picture. I’m here to polish her up. Meaning that she had to have something there for me to work with.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What it seems you want me to do is to convince the world that she is suitable. You want me to be a spin doctor.”
“You sound offended.” She laughed.
“Yes.” Kent reached for the file he kept on Dana Meadows. The princess of a powerful family was about to have the weight of her grandmother’s legacy lowered onto her shoulders in two months. His thumb traced the outline of her face in a photograph. Strong. Determined. Yet he had noticed a vulnerable quality about her when it came to her family. He wanted to know more about the inner circle of the Meadows family. In order for him to tread on such sacred land, he had to gain Dana’s trust.
“Kent?”
“Yes, Grace.”
“You can do this.”
Kent shook his head. This woman was unbelievable. Insufferable. But she had the magic touch when it came to business. He might disagree with Grace’s methods and process, but she knew how to get what she wanted
.
“Toughen her up. By any means necessary,” Grace instructed him.
“She’s not going to war.”
“If you believe that, you are just as gullible as she is. Are you, Kent?”
Kent would describe himself as many things, but gullible wasn’t one. He drank a shot of cynicism every day with breakfast and visited the land of melancholia too often for his own good.
“Don’t disappoint me. I’m not used to being wrong.”
“Grace, when I take on a job, I give it my all. I don’t set out with the idea that I can’t help. But I’m not one of your soldiers. I have to do things my way. That means you need to step back, but also give Dana and me some room.”
There was a long pause.
“Do I detect a protective tone whenever you speak about my granddaughter? My gosh! This is priceless.”
Kent wished he could retract his words, or vibes, or whatever he’d tossed out there for Grace to sniff. He pulled the comforter even tighter around his body
“I should have guessed earlier. I won’t stand in the way of your mild flirtation,” Grace told him. “Two handsome people in a room are bound to give each other the eye. You get what you want. I get what I want.” She cleared her throat. “Shocking, I know. I’m not one hundred percent barracuda.”
Kent ended the incriminating conversation and hung up, not quite believing Grace’s self-diagnosis He also didn’t want to lend credence that she had sanctioned his approaching Dana on a personal level. To use his lust for Dana to gain her trust reeked of underhandedness. Not his style.
But then what should he do? His desire for Dana wasn’t about to be put in a box marked “good behavior,” no matter how how hard he tried. The longer Kent was around her, the more he learned about her, the more he interacted with her, well, the more he wanted her.
Regardless of his lust, it looked like New York City awaited him.
Kent decided to take advantage of the hotel gym, spending much longer than he normally did sweating and pounding his muscles with an hour’s jog on the treadmill. When he was physically spent, Kent left the gym just as he had entered—with Dana on his mind. Back in his room, he stepped into the bathtub, turned on the showerhead, and subjected his body to the cold water. It was time for home-grown solutions to shock his libido into retreat.
Chapter 6
New York City greeted Kent with a heady mix of congestion, pungent smells of many kinds of food, and thunderous mixtures of sounds from ongoing building and street construction, harried drivers leaning on their horns, and exuberant tourists exclaiming over the city’s attractions. As a world traveler, he was used to big metropolises that drew in people who wanted to turn their dreams into reality. But New York couldn’t be classified with the rest. With a unique quality born of its history and diverse population, it edged out the competition.
Although he arrived a day later than Dana, he suspected that she needed the space to prepare for the next morning’s meeting. Taking the opportunity to explore, he popped into a nearby coffee shop and took a seat. Once more, he opened her hometown newspaper’s business section. On the front page, an article reported that Dana was leaving the “protected castle” of Meadows Media to step out into the big world to attend an important pre-board meeting. The paper didn’t hold back its skepticism about a smooth transition within the ranks and clearly mocked any attempts Dana might make to lead the company.
The dated photo of Dana in the article was unflattering. It showed her emerging from a nightclub, locked arm-in-arm with a man on either side of her, flashing a wide smile. It underscored the pithy comments written in the column. Part of any battle lay in perception. This photo was a far cry from what he knew of Dana. Her public image was another item that would need readjustment.
His cell phone rang.
“Hey.” It was Dana’s voice. “Where are you?”
“Taking a stroll.” By then, Kent had left the coffee shop and was trying to read the street signs, walk and dodge the pedestrians at the same time. “I’m heading toward Times Square.” Manic flashes of light displaying ads for Broadway shows and moving images on electronic billboards guided him across the busy street. “Did you need something?”
“I was going to stretch my legs.”
“Great. We could grab a meal,” Kent invited.
“Wonderful. Meet you in front of the Marriott.”
Kent finished up the call and hastened toward his destination. His hurried footsteps propelled him toward the woman who had overtaken his thoughts. They’d be able to talk strategy for the meeting. He had it all worked out. He could share his perspective. She could share her talking points. As Kent rounded the corner, his brisk walk turned into a light jog. He couldn’t look cool and in control even if he tried.
Up ahead, he spotted Dana before she noticed his approach. She stood, cell phone at her ear, under a lit canopy. Its tiny overhead lights bathed her in a halo of bright white. Tonight’s wardrobe was a black sleeveless dress that boldly clung to her shapely figure. As she turned and unintentionally posed with hip jutted, he had to admit that the back view was slightly ahead of the front view. How could he not go for her curved behind? It had just enough meat for him to hang on to.
He paused in admiring. What if she had a date? He hoped that she wasn’t catching up with a special someone on the phone or making plans for later.
She faced him and waved. Heaven help his blood pressure. Her face lit up with a smile that touched Kent, since it was all for him.
“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” Not the most suave line, but greeting her with how she looked smashingly and downright sexy would be wrong...even if it felt so right.
“Pretty warm night.” She tucked the phone in her small black purse.
“You’re not still working?” He asked, hoping for some illumination as to who had been on the other end of that phone call
“Ah...no.” She shook her head.
“Have you thought about where you’d like to go for dinner?” Kent asked.
She shook her head. “I’m good to go for whatever you have in mind.”
He stood at the curb and tried to hail a cab, but found it difficult, since many passengers were heading to the theater that time of evening. He looked out at the heavy flow of occupied taxis.
“Forget the cabs. Let’s take the subway.” Dana pulled his arm to get his attention.
He didn’t object to a bit of adventure with her, though boarding the train almost got them mowed over by theatergoers, tourists and the few locals who liked spending time under the evening lights of Times Square. Standing on the train like a sardine wasn’t his style, except that it brought Dana closer than any other situation might have.
“Where are we going?” Kent asked. He didn’t know where the train they had boarded was bound. “Greenwich Village.”
“Because?” He’d never heard of the place.
Dana shrugged. “Why not?”
“I’m along for the ride.” Kent meant that in every sense. He dipped his head toward hers. Her hair brushed against his nose, and the scent of apples, crisp, sweet, fresh, tantalized him.
The train jerked to a stop. Kent’s body swayed and bucked to the motion in synchronized fashion with hers. They both held on to the metal bars overhead, while her back connected with his chest. His hand shot out to steady her. Its landing site on her hip wasn’t planned, but not unpleasant.
“Coppin’ a feel?” Dana looked up him, grinning as his face warmed.
“Just trying to be a hero. Saving you from flying across the train and cracking your skull in the process.”
“Wow. Now, I hadn’t seen that scenario. Guess I should count myself lucky.” She faced him with a wide grin. Her nose was near his chin and her breath had a touch of mint that he would have loved to taste.
The t
rain resumed motion again, causing his chin to brush against her downy soft hair. His fingers twitched in anticipation of tracing her hairline and disappearing into its thick silkiness.
Thank goodness for the train, which sounded like it was on its last brakes. Another screeching halt pushed his body against Dana’s. Her back pressed against the train’s wall and her hands shot out and gripped his shirt, bunching it at his chest. His lips smeared an arc along her forehead.
“My apologies,” he lied.
“Rough ride.”
“Should be over soon.” His body hoped it wasn’t.
“I’m not in a hurry.”
He prayed that his arousal wouldn’t make its own response, revealing to Dana a little more than he wanted. The only way to avoid an embarrassing moment would be to step away, break contact.
“We’re here.” She squinted to read the station name.
Why couldn’t the train break down? Kent wished.
The train dutifully pulled into West Fourth Street station. They exited with the flow and headed up to the street level. Unlike Times Square’s trademark bright lights and constant activity, the area was darker and several degrees more subdued, still busy with foot traffic, and featuring an overabundance of restaurants on either side of the avenue, and along narrow side streets.
Dana paused in front of a few establishments. “Feel like Italian? Greek? Irish?”
Kent listened to all the various ethnic options. What she didn’t know was that he’d forego any of it for hotel fare in either her or his hotel room. His stomach rumbled. “Italian works for me.”
They headed to a small, Italian, family-style restaurant. Seating was tightly packed along one side of the narrow building. Because it was a popular time for dining, they were seated in a rear corner. Kent had no complaints.
“Looks like we made a great pick,” he said.
“Seems that way.”
Their meals arrived within minutes after they’d ordered. No time for any awkward conversation to fill the space.
“All this traveling that you do...?”
One of a Kind Page 7