Page 16 of Mending Our Chance

8 Felicity

I lingered too long with my siblings that by the time I got home, I had to do a fast version of feminine preparation. Tonight was not going to be easy. Landing this client was huge. Mr. Stonewell was a medium-sized fish but if we could reel him in, we would save this sinking ship.

They, I reminded myself. They would quit sinking. Remember, you are just the consultant, Felicity. I closed my eyes. It would be so easy to run a fortune five-hundred. No one believed I had it in me given I had gone the teaching route. Those recurring waves of censure broke over me, again and again. Then, my turgid thoughts turned to my past, and the memories my brothers’ visit had dredged up.

Lost in a black pit of despair, I lost twenty minutes to self-pity. It was time I did not have, and when I hardened my mind and allowed that stubborn will to pull me free, I berated myself at that moment of weakness. Then I glanced at the clock, noticing the time. Screeching, I dashed around to finish getting ready. I decided to keep my briefcase at home as I was able to fold the contracts and a pen into my dainty clutch.

Miracle of miracles, I made it to the restaurant early. My cabbie had been a master of navigation. I pulled my skirt into a better position, then shrugged and stretched my shoulders as if I were an athlete ready to enter the arena. But on entering, I found no one was there. I stood in the vestibule, tapping my foot until I heard a harsh breath.

Turning, I saw Marcus had entered the establishment. His eyes were wide, pools of unhidden lust.

“Wow,” he whispered.

I was frozen under his lapis lazuli gaze. Electricity rippled across my skin and I ached to go to him. I blamed it on the extra coffee. I was jittery and had made a bold move wearing the deep green, formfitting dress.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me.” I tried to speak in a serious tone, but my lips were turned up in a smile. “I was in such a rush, I didn’t even have time to find my favorite lipstick.” I stood there, trying not to fidget under his gaze. I wasn’t ready for his presence to affect me like this, but my hormones were overruling me, and I was very aware of his looming figure. I was about to ramble again, just to fill the silence, when he spoke up, melting my heart a little more.

“And this is why I could never move on after you,” he admitted. “And I’m so not gonna laugh at you, city slicker.”

I was stunned. That steady look of desire mixed with his honest admission had me undone. I stepped toward him, about to demand an explanation, but just then Mr. Stonewell arrived. My jaws snapped closed and Marcus broke our heated gaze to turn to greet our guest. Suddenly, the evening was all about business, but I could still distinguish a hint of desire wafting in the background. Deciding to ignore the undercurrent of mutual attraction, I pasted on my most dazzling smile and gestured into the restaurant. “Shall we, gentlemen?”

They nodded in agreeance and I walked side by side with Mr. Stonewell while Marcus hung back with the associate. I could feel the pull of his body, and when we arrived at our table, Marcus stepped close. His heavenly scent enveloped me: rich spices and a hint of musk. His hand slid to my lower back where a convenient piece of the dress had been cut away. God bless fashion.

“Where is that worthless piece of shit with the prototype?” My voice was more a snarl than a whisper as Marcus politely assisted me into my seat. I turned into him as he leaned down to whisper back. He was so close that I could have brushed my lips against his ear.

“He had an emergency,” Marcus bit out in a low voice. “I’m not happy about it either, but at least I get to sit next to a stunning, dark haired goddess all night and eat a meal we can barely afford. You look incredible, by the way.”

I felt a blush stain my cheeks at his compliment. “It’s the wine that will rack up the bill,” I returned, reverting my attention back to our guests who had ordered cocktails. The distraction of the waitress had thankfully helped our exchange go unnoticed.

My solution to Harold’s disaster had been to make the catch public. We were here to be seen reeling in the big fish. And so, I had called the secretaries and assistants of a few big heads in the city. I had told them to arrange dinner plans or drink plans at this very restaurant. I wanted an audience, and had called in every favor I could to make their presences possible. A few had changed plans for their bosses to accommodate me. It was all a part of the show and I was ready to play along. I could already feel that the ruse was starting to work in our favor. Already, appraising eyes were giving our group measured glances and I had high hopes that the night would finish with the appearance of the paparazzi seeing us shake hands as we bid one another goodnight, a signed contract secured in my clutch.

As the evening progressed none too quickly, I snuck hooded glances at Marcus. He was poised and dealt well with the situations that arose from our potential clients, be they objections or well-placed concern. I had quickly taken the role of mediator, seeing as it was unnecessary to promote AVIAF Tech., since its founder had that well under control. I tried not to interfere, merely let fate deal the cards to fall where they would—which, no surprise, was in Marcus’ favor.

During the second course, my leg accidently rubbed against his. He immediately froze mid-sentence and carefully hid his start behind a delicate cough as he reached his hand under the table and captured mine in a firm grip. My body’s response to his was immediate; desire surged through me. Before I could pull away, he used his finger to draw something on my palm. I recognized the scrawl: Hi. Then he squeezed my hand again. I breathed deep into my lungs, little tingles of excitement coursing through my body. He was just so cute, and now that I wasn’t so busy being mad at him, I was enjoying the time we spent together. As he broke contact to make a gesture, I suddenly felt the loss of his touch.

I wanted him.

The admission was a douse of cold water, because I had put myself out there before and had thought that sex would help form a more lasting relationship with him. It hadn’t. I’d been burned, and now, I still wanted more—just as I had before. The chemistry between us was undeniable, but I just didn’t trust him. If I was going there with Marcus, I would want our journey to have a destination. The question was where he saw us going. My biggest fear was where I gave him my mind, body, and heart again, and he gave me nothing in return.

My dirty thoughts and warring mind were interrupted when Mr. Stonewell’s phone rang. He handed it to the associate, who rose to answer it. I was thankful for the shift away from my personal angst.

“As I was saying,” Marcus continued, “we should shoot for a twenty-one day release plan. Ms. Saccone thinks it is plausible.”

He shot me a glance. I bit my lip, because the heat radiating from those dark blue eyes was enough to give me a burn.

“I am curious, Ms. Saccone,” Mr. Stonewell said. “You have a reputation as one of the brightest business heads in the faculty at Columbia, yet you are young.” His gaze was mildly licentious. I felt Marcus bristle. Mr. Stonewell didn’t notice, his eyes drifting to his associate, who was now returning through the throng of tables. “I understand you have never worked for a company apart from your internships in college. Is that correct?”

“Yes, but I own a consulting firm,” I replied, smiling through gritted teeth. It was the same song and dance I had had to endure many a time before. “In fact, just last month I was hired by Francis, Biltmore, and Partners. We did a—”

But I was cut off when the associate leaned down to whisper into Mr. Stonewell’s ear. A grizzled brow shot up and he turned to face his young associate, asking, “Is that so?”

The boy—who was barely out of britches—nodded in assent.

Mr. Stonewell turned back to us with a grim look on his face. “Well, Mr. Bowers, it looks like this evening, although fine in company”—he gestured to my dress which made me wish I was in a pants suit—“has been a waste of both our time.”

Marcus and I simultaneously jerked in our seats. Although taken aback, I managed to squeak, “How so, Mr. Stonewell?”

“Next time, young lady, when you want to ignite a bidding war for your product, have the balls not to be duplicitous. And Bowers, leave the tactics to men. The workplace isn’t tolerant of a woman’s wily ways.”

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