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Lori chuckled. “No, but we wouldn’t lie.”
Well, that was true. My family rarely minced words. I could count on them to be honest. I looked at them warmly, happy I could spend the end of this evening with them. Others needed ice cream after a bad date; I needed Hailey and Lori. They weren’t just my sisters, they were my best friends. We were a team, whether we were on a shopping spree or relentlessly teasing my brothers during our weekly Friday dinners. Yeah, we had the kind of family dynamic that often made people wonder if we were grown-ups after all, but it worked for us.
“Val, what’s wrong?” Lori asked, pushing a hand through her blonde hair. “You’re usually optimistic. Is it the issue with Beauty SkinEssence?”
My stomach rolled. The second reason I’d accepted a date with Chad was because I’d been desperate to take my mind off that.
I nodded. “I have a meeting with a mediator tomorrow.”
“Val, you have nothing to worry about.” Hailey put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I owned a cosmetic and fragrance company, Valentina’s Laboratories. My team had developed a formula for an antiaging cream, and now one of the multinational conglomerates were claiming they’d done it first. There was no patent, and they hadn’t advertised it anywhere. The only mention had been in a French trade magazine three months ago, but we’d been working on our formula for nine months at that point. I was fairly certain that what Beauty SkinEssence wanted was for me to drop the line, because if we launched similar products at the same time, profits would shrink for both sides.
The company was my baby. It had taken me twelve years to grow it to the successful business it was today. I wasn’t going to allow anyone to threaten what I’d built or smear the hard work of my team by calling us copycats. I looked up from my cocktail to find my sisters exchanging a glance. I suppressed a smile, certain that I knew what would follow.
“So, it looks like we have to plan an intervention,” Hailey told Lori, confirming my suspicions.
I laughed, throwing my head back. God, I seriously loved these girls. Interventions were a common thing in the Connor household. Whenever we thought one of us needed some shaking up, we’d pull one. If shit hit the fan, an ambush was needed.
I had introduced the concept of interventions at twenty-one. After our parents died in a car crash, my twin brother Landon and I took care of our sisters and two brothers. In that difficult time, we needed the goofing and silliness that came with interventions. But the tradition stuck to this day. At thirty-six, I loved it as much as I had in my early twenties.
“How about I make you a deal? You wait until after my meeting with the mediator. Otherwise you might have to work on another intervention tomorrow.”
“We don’t mind,” Lori assured me. Hailey backed her up with a vigorous nod.
“Nah, we don’t have time. I should get going. I need to be up early tomorrow. The meeting is at eight o’clock.”
I’d insisted the mediator come to me so we could have that first conversation on my territory.
Despite leaving after only having one other drink, it was close to midnight when I arrived home. Alone in my house, I started fretting over the meeting again. My company wasn’t just a way of making money for me. It was who I was.
I put together my outfit for the next day, as usual. Doing so bought me time in the morning, when I would sell pieces of my soul for a few extra minutes of sleep. I’d taken out a fire-red pencil skirt and a black blouse with a sleeve that hung off one shoulder. It wasn’t exactly typical office attire, but I loved it, and it was weather-appropriate for mid-September. As a plus, it was my lucky outfit, and I was determined to turn around my luck.
Chapter Three
Val
Next morning, dressed in my lucky outfit, I stopped by Walter’s, the coffee shop across the street from my office building. It was the closest one, and I liked to start the morning by buying a cup of coffee before heading to work.
I usually ran into a few patrons I knew, people who worked at some of the other offices nearby. I waved to the head of the HR department of a beverage company with whom I’d had lunch a few times.
Then I slid my gaze over the perimeter for anyone else I might know. My gaze fell on the stranger in line next to me, and I straightened a little, paying extra attention. He was taller than me (and the lucky outfit re
quired me to wear heels). His shirt stretched over a broad chest and a tapered waist. His strong hands ended in long fingers that made me wonder if he played the piano. I even got a fleeting look at his face as he turned to study the menu. His hair was almost black, and I was sure that his eyes were hazel, providing a beautiful contrast.
I hadn’t realized I was staring until he unhitched his gaze from the board displaying the menu and turned to look at me. He was absolutely gorgeous. I’d been wrong; his eyes weren’t simply hazel. They had golden flecks too. I broke the eye contact as my turn came. I ordered my usual—cappuccino with whipped cream and caramel topping.
While waiting for my drink, I discovered that I’d developed a wandering eye that was intent on surveying the stranger, cataloging every detail. He joined me in the waiting corner. Now he was close enough that I couldn’t look at him without being obvious. But oh, I could smell him. I recognized the cologne instantly. It wasn’t one of mine, but it was a favorite nonetheless. I concentrated on the sweets display, my mouth almost watering at the sight of the blueberry pancakes. Nope. I’ll be strong today. No pancakes.
Our drinks were placed on the counter at the same time. The stranger reached for his first, but the server must have placed it too close to the edge, because it toppled right over... knocking mine as well. I jumped backward as the hot contents spilled everywhere.
“I'm sorry,” the stranger said. Ah, that voice. Just another tool in his arsenal to make him more irresistible to poor souls like me. “I’ll buy you another one.”
“No need.”
“I insist. I knocked it over.”
A man with manners. Will you look at that?
