Summer Kisses (272 page)

“Who do we have here?” Will said to no one in particular.

“Tyler Michelson,” I said to my old friend, deciding for some reason to keep up the lie.
Keep digging the hole, idiot.

Will cleared his throat. “Er... nice to meet you.”

Katherine didn’t seem to catch the sarcasm in his voice.

“Your turn to man the booth,” Will said to her. “Ben’s had his fill. He requested you personally.”

Her jaw clenched. “Of course he did.”

Will grinned. “I’ll keep your new beau company for you.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

She exploded. “He’s most certainly
not
my beau.”

“Not until the top of the hour, but I’m working on it,” I said.

She picked up her coffee cup. “Tyler, it was interesting meeting you.”

“I think you’re forgetting something,” I said. “Like the part where you give me your phone number?” Might as well save some face.

She laughed. “Like you’d use it.”

I would have. For one thing, it would prove her wrong. For another, she amused me. Not to mention all those soft-looking curves really did it for me.

She disappeared, but I knew something she didn’t know. I’d be seeing her tomorrow. The thought made me grin again. I could hardly wait.

This wasn’t how I’d imagined the first day of the rest of my life. I was down to—quick look at the watch—exactly seven minutes in which to get my car started and make a fourteen-minute trip—give or take—to the other side of Sudden Falls.

“You’re fulfilling every British car stereotype,” I warned my chili-red Mini Cooper convertible. It figured that today would be A, the first day of a new project on-site at the client’s. B, be the first time in my three-year history with this car that it decided to act up. And C, be the one morning I had worked from home and couldn’t hitch a ride from one of my colleagues.

I chanted a quick prayer/mantra/meditation over the battery/engine/whatever it was and turned the key one more time. After a reluctant pause, my baby vroomed to life. “Good car,” I praised it, patting the dashboard. Not that that I have some mystical power over inanimate objects like cars and computers, but it’s always safer to give them a little verbal encouragement, just in case.

I gunned it out of my little quiet subdivision and onto Main Street, where I sat. And sat. And sat.

I was going to be far more than a few minutes late.

To call the client or not to call? Or better yet, call Will. He knew the client. Quinn Mitchell owned Mitchell Fitness, one of the most successful chains of fitness centers in the area. He was an old school buddy of Will’s, which meant that we had the enviable—and very billable—task of developing his new ad campaign.

I completely had Will to thank for this opportunity. Not only did he bring the job into the firm, but he made it clear that Quinn Mitchell had insisted I lead it. Thereby—at least temporarily—giving me my dream job and giving Bennington Wurther III—the very misogynistic bane of my existence— no way to interfere. And as long as I led a successful campaign, he wouldn’t be able to stop it from becoming permanent—though he’d definitely want to.

And this project was right up my alley. The perfect first campaign for me to lead. I’ll be the first person to admit that I don’t have a lot of confidence when it comes to my outer person, but when it comes to work, I know what I’m good at. And this project would give me the chance to shine like a ten-carat diamond under a spotlight.

Poking the Bluetooth button on my steering wheel, I said, “Call Will Barton.”

The phone dialed, and Will picked up. “Hey. How’re things going with Quinn?” An edge of merriment danced in his voice. I must be missing some joke. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to investigate what he was up to.

“My car was being temperamental this morning, and I’m running about ten minutes late. Should I call him?”

“Yeah. He’ll notice. He’s one of those disturbingly punctual people.”

“Great,” I muttered. We didn’t have this job tied up with a pretty bow yet. After our meeting today, I’d need to finalize the proposal, and then he’d still have to sign the contracts.

“Let me call Quinn for you. I haven’t talked to him in a while, anyway.”

“Oh? Is there something there I should know about? Is he the future Mrs. Barton?”

He snorted. “I’m with Matt, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Nobody in our circle of friends liked Will’s current boyfriend. Will could do a lot better.

“Besides, Quinn is hideously heterosexual.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” I said unable to suppress a smile.

“Except he’s too pretty to unleash on an unsuspecting female population.”

Oh, great. Just what I needed. Pretty men were generally too full of themselves to be tolerated. My mind drifted to Tyler. Definitely too good looking for his—or anyone else’s—good, and yet I was willing to forgive him the sin because he had gotten my motor running and made me laugh. He’d stopped by our booth later that day, very deliberately picked up one of my business cards, and slipped it into his pocket while I spoke with a booth visitor. I wondered if he’d call, then shook my head at myself.

Focus
.

“I’m sure it won’t be a big deal,” Will reassured me as he signed off. Hanging up, I pressed the accelerator a little harder.

I pulled up to the flagship location of Mitchell Fitness slightly frazzled.
I’m
also one of those disturbingly punctual people. I
hate
to be late.

I grabbed my soft-sided briefcase, which included my laptop, notes, and the contract.

Walking in the front door, all of the reasons I don’t belong to a gym assaulted me along the accompanying scents of antiseptic cleanser and human exertion. Treadmills lined a floor-to-ceiling wall of mirrors, most with well-toned athletic people running as if their very lives depended on it.

I don’t look that good when I sweat, I don’t like changing in front of women whose bodies don’t bulge when they bend over, and I also sincerely dislike being trapped inside for the sole purpose of exercise.

A very cute and perky receptionist greeted me as I came in.

“Katherine Mendoza to see Quinn Mitchell.”

“Sure. Just a second.” She pushed a button on her phone to intercom her boss.

“Be right down.” His voice over the speakerphone sounded vaguely familiar. I didn’t make the connection until a couple of minutes later when he appeared around the reception desk.

I swallowed hard and realized I’d totally been had.

Katherine was annoyed. I could tell right away.

“Quinn Mitchell, twin brother of Tyler Michelson, I presume?”

“In my defense, my middle name
is
Tyler.”

She bit down on the corner of her lip, and her eyes fixed themselves over my shoulder as her confidence visibly slipped. I felt like an ass. Then she took a deep breath and pinned me with a direct stare. I’d forgotten those ocean-colored eyes. “I guess now that you’ve had a nice little laugh at my expense, it’s time for us to get to work.”

“Katherine Mendoza,” she introduced herself as if we’d never met. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Wow
. She sounded more than annoyed. Big trouble.

Despite the tension in her voice, I followed her lead. “And you. You know, you’re not exactly what I expected from Will’s description.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

Note to self: Never lie to this woman again.
She acted professional, but I suspected if we weren’t about to work together, she’d tear me a new one.

“You’re younger, for one thing.”

“I’m thirty-one,” she said.

Hmm
. Three years younger than me. “You have great skin.” I laid the compliment on kind of thick. But it was true. “I would have guessed younger.”

“I assure you that I am more than qualified for this project.” She clipped the words off carefully. “I earned a double bachelor’s degree in communications and advertising and an MBA from Ohio State. Since I’ve been with Wurther Advertising, I’ve worked on campaigns for both local businesses and national brands of Fortune 500 companies.”

So much for warming her up with a compliment. “I believe you. Will speaks highly of you. He said you were the perfect person to design and lead this ad campaign for us, and I trust his judgment.”

She sighed, nodding. “Thank you.” Given her pained expression, I suspect the thanks had come at some personal cost to her.

I changed the subject fast. “Why don’t we head into my office, and I’ll explain the scope of what I want and answer any questions you might have.”

Katherine nodded as I led the way through the door of the stairwell marked “Employees Only.” My office was on the second floor.

As we climbed, I gave her a rundown on the company, unable to keep the pride from my voice. “This was the first gym in the chain. Eight years ago, it was little more than a boxing ring.” I opened the door at the top of the stairs and let her pass. “Now, I have six other locations, and a seventh that will open next spring. It will be the largest gym in the greater Cincinnati area, complete with indoor climbing wall, racquetball and handball courts, Olympic-sized swimming pool, saunas, whirlpools, and full-sized basketball court. All the amenities on prime real estate, right in the center of three new housing developments and not another gym for miles.”

“That’s impressive,” she answered as we entered my office. Her tone might be starting to thaw. Either that, or she was being polite for professionalism’s sake.

I crossed the room to my big walnut desk and seated myself in my dark leather chair.

“Have a seat.” I indicated the chair across the desk from me. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She shook her head and settled herself in the chair.

I nodded, my eyes catching hers and not leaving. They were nice. Plus it would be rude to stare at her breasts, which were calling to me from the vee of her blouse. Her top button had worked itself loose. Eyes were definitely safer territory.

I started when she set her briefcase down and tried to focus on what she’d said.

Didn’t we have a moment there?
Evidently not.
She wasn’t going to make this easy on me.

She pulled out a notepad and jumped right in. “What are your goals for this campaign?”

I didn’t know how to answer.

“For example, an increase in general visibility of the club, an increase in your membership, or an increase in the perception of prestige? Or maybe get current members to take advantage of their memberships? Or reduce the obesity rate of the entire tristate area?”

“Definitely increase membership. I want to generate excitement about the new club—both to gain local support, but also because we could use more financial backing for the new location. I want Mitchell Fitness to be
the
membership to have. Obviously, I
want
people to use their memberships, but I’m not sure how an ad campaign can make them.”

She made notes as I finished.

“I recommend a complete rebrand with TV commercials, press, print ads, and brochures as well as more in-gym signage, a website overhaul, and online advertising,” Katherine said. “Plus a mobile app for clients to help them track their progress.”

“That sounds amazing!”

“OK. I’ll type all of this up in a proposal which will detail what services we will perform. For the next couple of weeks, I’ll need a few hours a day from you.”

I nodded. “I’ll make the time.”

“I’d like to interview your membership to find out why they joined, what they like, and what they need.”

I worried that the interruption might annoy members whose sole purpose was working out.

“Don’t worry. We won’t be pushy.” It was almost like she’d read my mind.

I don’t know why, but I liked it.

I didn’t expect this fascination to go anywhere, but the idea of having her to myself every day for the next several weeks gave me all sorts of interesting thoughts.

A knock sounded on the door, and I turned to find John Malone leaning against the doorframe, looking like he was waiting to shoot a GQ ad. “Hey, Quinn. Do you have time to sign these papers?”

“John Malone, meet Katherine Mendoza. Katherine is with Wurther Advertising and will be designing the new ad campaign.”

John crossed the room and shook her hand.

I turned to Katherine. “John is my attorney.” I scratched his email on the back of my business card. “Can you send him a copy of the contract for review?”

She nodded, still very serious.

“You normally won’t admit I work for you,” John said.

Katherine raised her eyebrows in question.

I shrugged and grinned. “I don’t want people to question my judgment.”

She smiled in return, and I liked it. Maybe there was hope for me yet.

“We’ve also been friends since we played Little League,” I admitted.

She smiled at John. “Oh, so you must know Will then?”

“Yeah,” he said. A screen slid shut over John’s eyes. He didn’t talk about Will.
Ever.

“John is with Pandora Business Advisors,” I said. “So he’s part friend, part attorney, part advisor.”

“Not that he listens to my advice.”

I leveled a hard look at him. He had mentioned his resistance to the expansion. Repeatedly. And it didn’t need to be shared outside of the company.

Before I could retort, he raised his hands in surrender and turned toward Katherine. “So, how’s the new campaign coming?”

“It’s going to be great,” she told him without looking at me.

“That’s good to hear,” John said.

I turned to her, hesitant to send her on her way. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much else to keep her here. “Is there anything more you need today?”

“I think that about covers it.” She oozed professionalism, gathering her purse and briefcase in a manner that could be described as fleeing.

Damn
. Still pissed.

The door closed behind her, leaving me with a last glimpse of her curvy backside before I turned back to John.

“Last chance,” he said. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”