Page 7 of Romanced By the Silver Fox

“Of course. Anything I can.”

“Why did you bring me here, really?” She tilts her head to the side and scoots closer to me. Her perfume wafts over to me, the sweet scent of roses and citrus teasing my nose. I take a greedy gulp of her scent before I answer.

“For two reasons. One, I’m part of a company that needs an extraordinary project director. Someone who understands the nonprofit world, yet has a foot in the corporate sphere as well. You come highly recommend by the smartest people we know.”

“That’s nice to hear.” Despite the faint blush staining her cheeks, she holds my gaze. She’s gotten better at accepting compliments since I last saw her.

“Talk to me about your vision. What precisely would I be expected to do? Marin told me FLB wanted someone to build a charitable giving program from the ground up.”

“It’s true.”

“What specifically would that entail? Are there guidelines you’d want me to follow? Are there any preferred organizations? Are we soliciting funds, or are we a private foundation? What is FLB’s —?”

I hold up a hand. She pauses.

“That’s just it. There aren’t any guidelines. We need you to create them.”

“You want to give me carte blanche to build out this nonprofit?” She gives me a skeptical look. “How much money are we talking about here?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Her eyebrows slide up, and her expression turns incredulous.

“I can’t give you the specifics until certain pieces fall into place. But I can tell you it’s a private foundation, and the endowment will be substantial.”

“How many numbers are on the left side of the decimal?” Genie asks. I open my mouth to protest when she adds, “Ballpark?”

I can work with that. “More than seven, less than twelve.”

She blinks twice. Fair. We’re talking about a massive amount of money. I wish I could tell her everything right now, but I have my reasons for holding back.

“That’s a lot of money. “Genie leans back, deliberately taking a relaxed pose. “And you’re going to just give it to me to manage as I see fit?”

“Basically.”

“I don’t know who’s crazier, you for offering or me for considering it.”

I laugh, but inside I’m doing cartwheels. She’s considering it. That’s more of a commitment than I thought I’d get from her tonight.

“I’d feel the same if I were in your shoes.” The server returns with our cocktails. I take a slug of mine, enjoying the soothing warmth. “But I want — no, weneedsomeone with your expertise to make the decisions. That’s what we’ll be paying you for. Assuming you take the role.”

Our dinner arrives. We keep talking, laying out the basic parameters of the role. Genie draws out some ideas: the need for a Board of Directors, a review committee to vet the organizations we partner with, the number of staff she would want in an organization like this one. I am listening, but I’m also having the time of my life. I forgot how fun it is to talk to her like this. Genie is never more impressive than when she’s animated about one of her passions.

Or more beautiful. I can’t stop staring at her.

“What do you think, Grant?”

The server stands silently beside Genie. They both look at me expectantly.

“I think… Yes?”

Genie bites her lip, holding back a grin.

“I’ll stick with the pots de creme. He’ll have the crème brûlée.”

“Of course, Madame,” the man replies. He and another member of the staff whisk away the remnants of our dinner, refresh the cutlery, and vanish in a matter of moments.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “I got distracted.”

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