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She could really use a drink right now. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t was turning out to be thirsty work.

“No worries,” Sahara said and began rifling through her green Hermès handbag. Pulling out a card, she leaned forward and handed it to Kennedy. “Here, why don’t you take mine? You can leave your number with the message service.”

The card was black and gold with an embossed silhouette of Nefertiti on the front, a desert oasis on the back, and was made from superior card stock, as one would expect from a star of her caliber.

“Works for me.” Kennedy tucked it in her purse. An office, business cards—how many other bullets would she have to dodge before the end of the day?

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Sahara studied her closely.

“Sure.” Kennedy could only pray she’d be able to answer it.

“Are those contacts?”

Kennedy’s laugh was part amusement, part relief. “Nope, these are my eyes. Got them from my dad.” Her uncommon slate blue eyes were a frequent topic of conversation, compliments, and stares.

“So, your dad’s what, white?”

“No, he’s Black.”

Sahara’s mouth fell open. “Really. Okay. Wow.”

“He was born in North Carolina. Came from a long line of slaves and slave owners.”

“And your mom’s Black too?”

“Yep. Born in Georgetown. Immigrated to the States when she was seventeen. Met my dad in college. Got married and had four children, and here I am, the youngest of the bunch,” Kennedy concluded with a smile.

One day she might do one of those 23andMe tests to see what her complete genetic makeup looked like, but to the world she was a light-skinned Black woman who probably had some mixing going on in her bloodlines on both sides of her family tree.

“So do you have any brothers?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Two, both older. Both single.”

Sahara’s gaze turned coy. “Either of them have your daddy’s eyes?”

“The eldest.” Kennedy got this all the time. “He lives in California.”

From the Grammy Award winner and Oscar nominee who could probably have any man she set her mind to without having to bat those thick-lashed eyes at them, more coyness. “You’ll have to introduce us one day.”

Kennedy snorted a laugh. “I’m sure he’d like that.” Cameron would get a kick out of this, not that his already oversized ego needed to be fed any more.

Sahara’s expression turned sheepish. “God, I’m so nosy, aren’t I? I didn’t mean to get all up in your business.”

“No, you’re fine,” Kennedy said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of her hand. “I get it all the time. Especially the questions about my brothers. By the way, my other brother is good-looking too.”

“Then make that two introductions,” the singer said, her manner playful. “Anyway, the real reason I wanted to talk to you alone was because I like you, and I don’t believe in holding any punches. It’s this thing with me—I meet someone and either I click with them or I don’t. And that’s the vibe I’m getting from you—we click. You’re smart, ambitious, and put together as all hell, but my one concern about working with this company is that you were the only Black person in there.” She gestured in the direction of the conference room. “Please tell me the company and your team are a lot more diverse than the guys sitting in that room.”

It seemed the moment of reckoning had come sooner than expected. What the hell was she supposed to say? The truth would most likely kill any hopes of Sahara partnering with ECO. But how could she lie? The company was about as diverse as the US Olympic equestrian team. More important, shedidn’thave a team, diverse or otherwise.

But you could have one,a voice in her head whispered, and with that came all sorts of possibilities. Visions of diversification and the end of college loan payments began to dance in her head.

Could she?

Should she?

You could and you definitely should.Judging by the volume and clarity of the voice in her head, it sounded very adamant about that.

Mind made up, Kennedy met Sahara’s steady and somber gaze. “I can assure you, it’s much more diverse.”

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