Page 8 of Sweet Spot

Chapter Seven

Chase

Diane, one of our marketing geniuses, was sitting in my desk chair with her green platform shoes propped up on my desk. She didn't drop them to the ground, even after I looked pointedly at them. She was busy texting someone. I waited and hovered over my desk as she finished.

"So what was the secret meeting about?"

"Nothing secret. I just needed to run something by the guys. In fact, if you take your big eighties rock star shoes off my desk and clunk down the hall to Zane's office, he'll fill you in. I've got another meeting."

"I know. That's why I came in here. I was going to let you know that there was a woman waiting to see you. Then I got a text message, so I sat down here with my phone." She clunked each big shoe to the floor and stood up. "She's not your usual type."

"Who’s not?"

"The woman you're waiting to meet with." She added an eye roll with her sarcastic pronunciation of the word meet.

"Shit, everyone is just full of judgment in this fucking place today."

Diane walked around the table and pinched my cheek. "I'm not judging. But she's still not your type."

"Why not?" I asked, stupidly getting sucked into her baited trap.

Her long finger pointed at me. "Ah ha, so I was right."

"No, you're not right at all. I'm meeting her to discuss a business deal."

"Oh, I see." She clomped out on her tall shoes.

"And what's wrong with her? Why isn't she my type?" Obviously, I was still stuck on the end of her hook.

Diane turned and shrugged. "We had a chat for a few minutes. She seems smart, savvy and just a little too pure for Chase England, that's all."

"Why, thank you, Di. You're right. That's not the least bit judgy. Is she out in the waiting area?"

"Yep." Diane walked out, and I could hear her silly shoes on the tile floor of the hallway long after she left.

I walked to my desk, digesting Diane's words with some anger and wondering if she was right. That was when it struck me. Too pure? It was a strange thing to say, and yet, it resonated with me. Maybe that was what I kept seeing when I looked at her. I pulled a breath mint from my desk drawer and shoved it in my mouth before heading out to the waiting area.

Macy was standing in front of one of the four wide screen televisions in the waiting area watching, of all things, a cooking show. She heard my footsteps and turned toward me. Her tawny hair made her brown eyes look dark, like chocolate, and her skin had a sun-kissed glow to it. But it wasn’t one of those out of bottle tans. It was real, every golden inch of it. She had come straight from work, and she still had the fragrance of baked goods clinging to her clothes and skin. I briefly wondered what she might taste like. Deliciously sweet, no doubt. Damn, sometimes it seemed my friends and coworkers knew me better than I knew myself.

I'd arranged the meeting with every intention of discussing the business deal, but it was hard to deny that I was attracted to her.

She waved her arm around the cavernous room that had been decorated in colorful modern furniture and technology. "Impressive," she said. "But I guess it shouldn't have surprised me too much. I confess, I did a little research."

"That's smart business." I led her toward the offices. "So, what did you think? Find anything of interest?"

She pursed her lips in a shy smile. "Interesting is a good word."

"But our product is not for you?"

"I didn't say that. I just haven't ever seen anything quite like it."

"We try to please a wide swath of people, so we include a lot of variety."

"Yes, variety is another good word." She followed me into my office and sat in a chair across from my desk.

I sat in my chair. "I just talked to my partners, and they like the idea."

She dragged her eyes from the stunning view and looked at me. "I'm not sure I'm the right person for this job."

---